In Memory

I recently gave a eulogy at my grandfather's funeral.  Preparing for it and standing up in front of my loved ones made me think a lot about who I want to be as a mother and how I want my children to remember me.
When my grandfather passed away, it started a whole emotional chain reaction within me. By watching my grandfather pass and witnessing my family's responses made me consider my whole family's mortality. It's impossible to keep death off your mind when it's right in front of you.
Two days before my grandfather passed away, the hospital room was filled with family members, scattered across the floor and cuddled together on the one recliner chair in the hospital room. We haven't been a close family for a very long time and to see this intimate gathering was a shock in its own right. It was one man's hold on all of us that brought us together of the end of his life. As a parent, I want to inspire my kids to lean on one another that way. I want to teach and demonstrate the power of family.
Tradition goes a long way, I want my kids to be influenced by their grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. I want them to listen to older people's stories with patience. I want to remain a link to the past so that as they grow up, their great-grandfather's values remain part of their lives.
When I sat down at my computer and wrote my grandfather's eulogy, the idea of reading it at the service terrified me, but I knew if I didn't do it, I would regret that missed opportunity. The opportunity to let everyone see my grandfather through my eyes. It was tough, I won't lie, but as I stood at the podium and looked out at the faces before me, I was filled with pride. Pride that I was given the honor to be this man's grand-daughter. It was an honor and also a daunting task to do justice to a life that spanned 93 years.
Following is my eulogy. I'm proud of it, it shows what my grandfather was like as a person, and it will serve as a great reminder to me about special memories I had and my family shared over the years.

"It is an honor to be here before you. And it is a pleasure to share our families stories of this extraordinary man. But it is daunting to do justice to a life that spanned 93 years. Do I know enough about the whole of Pappy’s life? Probably not. I can’t tell you what he was like as a young man during the Depression. I don’t know what he faced while flying planes in World War II. I only know a  little about how he met Grandma and their wedding. And I can’t tell you what he was like as a young father or co-worker.

But I along with my cousin Brent, have had the greatest of luck to be his grandchildren. And we can tell you what it was like to know Louie Sailhamer as a grandfather. And really, is there any better title that can be bestowed upon a man than Pappy?

For us grandchildren that are now adults, it is almost impossible to think of Pappy without also thinking of grandma. The strength of their bond, both as a loving couple and as supportive grandparents, has steeped through the years to remind us that for our entire lives, pappy was with his better half for 66 years!

At family functions, Pappy was always the guy sitting in the basement turning the handle of the ice cream machine, getting it just perfect. Even into the years when he could no longer or should I say no longer wanted to brave the cold, the first question asked was usually, “Who made the ice cream?”

Pappy was generous and kind. When Brent and I were young, he would sneak us money and let us buy baseball cards or candy when our grandparents would take us on special day outings to go mini-golfing or go to Devils Den in Gettysburg and climb the rocks. I’m pretty sure he would always let us win at mini-golf, no one can hit the ball out of the green that many times without trying, right? And as grandma would stand nervously at the bottom of Devil’s Den in Gettysburg and watch us climb through and over the rocks, pappy would just laugh and tell us to have fun. "Squeeze through that tiny crack in the rocks...go explore, see what you can find." We would be hidden in the rocks for hours.

As my husband and I were sitting at lunch yesterday with our three children, pappy made his way into our conversation. I asked the kids what their favorite memory of pappy was. My oldest, Kemper said, “The way he did the victory dance after beating Joey in checkers. We all laughed, because he was happy when he would beat my 8 year old son in a game of checkers. Next Joey (the checker player) said, “My favorite memory was playing checkers with pappy. And the best game of checkers took place just two weeks ago while pappy was in the hospital. Joey said, “for the first half I was letting pappy win so he would feel better, but then pappy actually started to beat me, he was so happy!” My youngest, Emma said her favorite memory was “his hugs, because he would squeeze you till you couldn’t breath and then he would laugh while doing it”

Every one of us in this room has wonderful memories that we have treasured and shared this week. And it’s been through this sharing that I was surprised to discover how similar our perceptions of this great man really are. No matter if you saw him every day or lived far away and only saw him a few times a year, pappy had an uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the most important in his life.

One thing about pappy, he seemed to always know how each of us was doing. You may have been busy with school and work, or even focused on establishing your own little family, but pappy, well, he was up to date on all of it. And he was silently cheering you on to find happiness and success.

He made time to attend all the big events in our lives, but it was the smallest of moments that pappy truly made you feel special. I hope I never forget the way he said my name when he would see me walking up the path to his house. THere was a ring in his voice and a smile on his face that left no doubt in your mind, that at least for that moment, you were the center of his world.
How did he do it? How did he make that special connection with everyone?

His time in the service spanned only 4 years of his over 9 decades. Yet it was undoubtedly one of the most defining chapters of pappy’s life. I don’t know a lot of detail about what he experienced during those years, but surely there were days when he thought his life would end there  rather than quietly in bed 69 years later.

I wonder if pappy had any idea how his future would play out after he returned home from war. Did he imagine a beautiful young woman with a bright smile that would soon become his wife? Did he have any idea that he would become a respected leader of his community and church. Did he image that he would get to spend time with the first 3 of his great grandchildren? That in the last years of his life, one of his greatest joys would be to sit in his kitchen, a half smile on his face, concentrating hard on  a game of checkers?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I would venture a guess that the reality of his life is much sweeter than anything pappy could have imagined so long ago.

He was a family man in the best possible sense of the word. From day one he has been teaching us what it means to be family - and you have no further to look than his relationship he had with his wife of 66 years. It was his family that kept him going, a wonderful perfect sized loving family. A family that reaches out to help its own and many others; a family that loves being together because it never fails to be a good time, a family that is so often recognized by others as something pretty special.

This kind of thing doesn't happen  by accident. I starts  at the top. It started with pappy.
This family is the best possible testament to the character of pappy.

I know this week has been hard. There has been sadness and tears and we are all feeling the emptiness of a home that will no longer see pappy eating dinner at his table or churning ice cream in the basement.
But you only have to look around you right now. Look at what pappy has given us all. It is this family. This beautiful family is his legacy and you are all part of it. How did we all get so lucky?

And should you find yourself missing pappy today, well, I won’t name names, but there are a few apples of this family that didn’t fall very far from the tree. Go sit by them. I promise you will feel better.

Pappy, we love you. Rest peacefully."