Grampa

This has been a long, tough week for our family. This morning we prepared to say goodbye (well, see you later) to Grampa. We thought it only fitting to start the day with ice cream for breakfast.


Stephanie's eulogy was beautiful, and she has given me permission to share it here.

Yesterday morning right before I tried finishing off this eulogy, I decided to have ice cream for breakfast. It seemed like an appropriate way at the time to commemorate my grandfather’s memory. I took it out of the freezer section of the mini-fridge in my dorm room, and struggled with the top, trying to get it off for a few seconds. Finally it burst open slopping half-melted ice cream onto my carpeted floor. In my surprise I looked down to the floor, spilling even more in the process. It was almost like Grandpa was there, making sure I knew he was still here for me, or maybe just playing a trick on me. Grandpa always had a trick up his sleeve, or a joke to tell us. He was a man of many faces and of many ideas and of many emotions.

First, Grandpa was a man of faith. He was deeply religious and in touch with his Catholic faith. He went to daily mass each day with Grandma at his side for years and years. Sometimes he brought friends or neighbors along as well, enjoying their company and spreading his faith and good will among them. Grandpa radiated faith. In past Thanksgivings, he wouldn’t be able to make it through grace without crying. He was so aware of how blessed he was and thankful to God for these blessings. He was compassionate for those who weren’t as lucky as he was, and it was as if saying grace validated all of these realizations for him.

Grandpa was also immeasurably faithful to and in love with Grandma. Perhaps as a result of his faithfulness to God, Grandpa was enamored with her. They shared a love that lasted throughout a 54 year marriage, a love that was deeper than many couples learn because of how faithful to her he chose to be.

In addition to being a man of faith, my grandpa was also a man of love. In addition to loving my grandma, his Donna Jean, Grandpa loved by extending his affection throughout generations of people. He loved his children, all six of them, his grandchildren, all twenty of them, and his great-grandchildren, all 9 of them. He didn’t stop there, either. He loved any chance to see his beloved siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, in-laws of family member, and friends. We all loved him as much as he loved us.

The other day, my dad and I were reflecting on different parts of his life, and my dad said “I really think that he was born to be a grandfather. He started young, and it was probably his favorite job ever.” It made me remember how if someone was small enough to fit in his lap, chances are they had spent time cuddling up with him to hear one of his innumerable poems and stories—an old favorite or a new one he made up as he sat there. While it’s obviously true that Grandpa seemed to be a champion among grandfathers, it doesn’t end there. See, another thing to remember about Grandpa was his nickname for his girls-“Flower.” He had a way of saying it that made it his own. We were all his flowers, all of us his little blossoms of hope at the beginning of spring.

That brings me to my next point: Grandpa was a man of wisdom. Grandpa saw the beauty in each and every single person no matter what. He could see the passion and the love and the individuality and the worth of anyone he talked to. This recognition was his wisdom.

He also knew not to pick favorites. Grandpa would often evade the task of telling anyone he or she was his favorite. I remember hearing very often that I was his favorite granddaughter from Franklin with brown hair who was in the room with him right now. Then he’d go on and qualify every other person to be his favorite person for other distinct reasons. One of my best memories of Grandpa was visiting him recently in the hospital and watching him go around the circle of people gathered around his bed, telling each one in turn that he or she was his favorite: Anna, you’re my favorite. Ruthy, you’re my favorite. Jean, you’re my favorite. Mary, you’re my favorite. Donna, you’re my favorite. Maybe it was fear of the Sullivan ire that kept him from making a finite decision, but I think it was the knowledge that none of us could outdo the other for his love. This revelation of beauty was his wisdom.

Grandpa also had a positive word or two of advice for anyone who needed it. His favorite advice to give was, of course, “You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose. But you can’t pick your friend’s nose.” This advice was his wisdom.

Grandpa recognized the balance between pride and humility. He was very fond of telling a story about when he was in the service or about his ancestry, but he was always humble about it, and was never assuming about the role he played in each story. This knowledge, this balance was his wisdom.

My grandpa also loved nature. When he lived in Duxbury, he had a jean jacket he liked to wear, the pocket of which he’d fill with seeds. When he went outside, chickadees would land on him and let him feed them right out of his hand. The birds must have known what an extraordinary gentleman Grandpa was because only a true gentle-man could be allowed so close to something so delicate. He really was a gentle man, and his appreciation and his care were his wisdom.

Finally, Grandpa was a man of kindness. He was never short a kind word or a good deed, whether it be extended to an old friend, a new acquaintance, or a stranger not yet lucky enough to have met him. For years Grandpa volunteered as a driver for Meals on Wheels. I remember one of his stories was about an old woman to whom he delivered meals often. She couldn’t drive herself, but she was still healthy and robust enough to do yard work, a task in which she found pleasure. I remember Grandpa telling this story, and seeing how amazed he was by her strength even at an old age. He would never give himself credit for it, but it took a kind of strength for him to show all of the kindness he showed, and to make the effort to brighten people’s days as often as he did. His kindness continued through the years, ranging from offering help to neighbors to get to hair appointments, to making sure we all had enough ice cream for breakfast.

Everyone who has met Grandpa has a story about him. Many of us have experienced a holiday dinner with him, or listened to him singing a song in a thick Irish brogue, or raiding the candy drawers scattered throughout his house in Needham.

Around the village, he was the go-to man for everything from doctor’s appointment-chauffeur to grocery bag carrier. Around the house he was known as a loving, devoted husband and a goofy father or grandfather. To each person, he means something a little different, because he focused on each person when he spoke to them so as to cater to what they were most interested in, or to what they needed the most. Grandpa was a gentleman, a gentle man, a man whose compassion distinguished him from other people, so that no matter what quality he boasted at the moment, he was lovable and admirable all the time.

One of Grandpa’s goals was to instill kindness into the hearts of each one of us. His legacy consists of learning to love one another, being silly enough to laugh at one’s self and make others laugh, and stirring a sense of knowledge and creativity in everyone whose life he touched.

I couldn't have said it better myself. Thanks again, Steph.

Grampa told me many times how much he loved to come here and see the new pictures of the boys. I don't know if they have the internet in Heaven, but I am sure he will still be checking up on us somehow. So Grampa - we love you so much, and miss you like you wouldn't believe. I'm so sad you didn't get a chance to meet Mya, I'm pretty sure you would have liked her. I know you will be watching over her and all of us. You will live on through every one of us in some way, and I know we will all work to keep your memory alive as well. I still can't believe you're gone, thank you for the gift of 25+ years of knowing you. And in case I never told you - you're my favorite Grampa with 6 kids, 20 grandkids, and 10 (and counting) great-grandkids, who has been married to Gramma for 54 years, and has been known to have a sweet tooth - ever. I really mean it. I love you.