Because I like to dwell?
This isn't really negative. My mom emailed me the entire eulogy my Aunt Mary wrote. Here it is for your reading pleasure (And keep in mind when she said that Father asked her to write everything down, afraid she would go over, she did in fact hold up a thick notebook and said "So I did" which everyone laughed at. You have to read it with a bit of humor):
(Italics are mine)
Robert V.E.
May 7, 1946
February 4, 2006
Susie asked me to say a few words on behalf of the family.
At the calling hours Father warned me to write my thoughts out. So I did and brought this thick notebook. I think Father was afraid I would go on too long. But not to worry. We are the family who invented the twenty minute Christmas dinner (Gramps always had us on a tight schedule for meals.).
Bob came into our lives when he began dating our sister Susie. I can still see him in his plaid jacket, and his chino pants, and his saddle shoes---shoes he continued to wear long after they had disappeared from fashion. Bob was eighteen; Susie sixteen; and our youngest brother, Steve, was five or six, about the age of Bob's granddaughter Maddy (Bob and Sue's first grandchild).
We have known him for a long time. And when we were young Bob was always there. He just sort of merged into the family. And finally he became the other brother we hadn't even known we needed. I don't know what we would have done if Susie hadn't married him.
Bob was a kind and gentle man who never missed a good time. And you just had to love the guy…..
*even if he did mangle the punch line of every joke;
*even if he fumbled the Jumble
*even if he turned into the Mad Caller, with phone cards holding hundreds and thousands of minutes he used to call his daughters, at opportune and inopportune times.
*even if, as the Host with the Most at Moody Beach, he took it upon himself to teach life's little lessons:
Bare-chested Bacon frying;
Lightning-like hammering, never striking in the same place twice;
The Son-in-Law Finishing School lessons in playing craps;
And the long philosophical discussions with my father about how to insulate a cottage by trapping dead air.
Not a lot mattered to Bob, but what did matter, mattered a great deal.
And that was living his life and loving his family. Constantly his doctors wondered how someone with a heart so injured could continue to live. We know how. Bob loved his life. And Susie took care to see that he could live it.
As one of his doctors said, "Do you know why he is still alive? Two words. Susie Elwood."
No matter what his challenges, Bob was having a good time. And his positive attitude was infectious. If I had a penny for every person at the calling hours who said they were cheered or amazed or inspired by Bob's attitude, his smile, his laugh, I would be a rich woman.
Family also mattered to Bob. Many of you remember his pleasure in those Friday nights when he and Susie would finally get to the beach and bring out the steamers and the lobsters.
And his daughters. Erin, I don't think Bob ever got over the fact that God had given him a daughter who shared his sense of humor. And Meg and Shan. Your father backed your lives so. He wanted you to be everything you could be. He wanted all his daughters to be in a league of their own.
Bob loved his grandchildren so much. He had a morning ritual. Every day he used a special cup that had a picture of Erin's children on it. He called this "Having breakfast with my grandchildren."
And at Christmas, when he told me about Shannon's new baby, Sean, his grin was so wide it was hard for his face to hold it in.
Now Bob was not perfect and it is probably true that he had heaven confused with Moody Beach (where the whole family went every summer).
Many of you remember him being wheeled down to the beach with his crossword tucked in by his side. And staying there all day with the family spread out around him.
And no matter what the challenges to his health, every so often he would look around at the waves and the sand and the sun and the family around him and say-
"This is the life. This is the life!"
And that is a lesson that Bob leaves us. No matter what our sorrow. No matter what our challenges. Look at the love in this room. Look at the family gathered here. And say, "This is the life!"
And so Bob,
May the road rise with you;
May the wind be always at your back;
May the sun shine warm on your face
and the rains fall soft on your fields;
May God keep you in the hollow of His hand
until we meet again.
(Italics are mine)
Robert V.E.
May 7, 1946
February 4, 2006
Susie asked me to say a few words on behalf of the family.
At the calling hours Father warned me to write my thoughts out. So I did and brought this thick notebook. I think Father was afraid I would go on too long. But not to worry. We are the family who invented the twenty minute Christmas dinner (Gramps always had us on a tight schedule for meals.).
Bob came into our lives when he began dating our sister Susie. I can still see him in his plaid jacket, and his chino pants, and his saddle shoes---shoes he continued to wear long after they had disappeared from fashion. Bob was eighteen; Susie sixteen; and our youngest brother, Steve, was five or six, about the age of Bob's granddaughter Maddy (Bob and Sue's first grandchild).
We have known him for a long time. And when we were young Bob was always there. He just sort of merged into the family. And finally he became the other brother we hadn't even known we needed. I don't know what we would have done if Susie hadn't married him.
Bob was a kind and gentle man who never missed a good time. And you just had to love the guy…..
*even if he did mangle the punch line of every joke;
*even if he fumbled the Jumble
*even if he turned into the Mad Caller, with phone cards holding hundreds and thousands of minutes he used to call his daughters, at opportune and inopportune times.
*even if, as the Host with the Most at Moody Beach, he took it upon himself to teach life's little lessons:
Bare-chested Bacon frying;
Lightning-like hammering, never striking in the same place twice;
The Son-in-Law Finishing School lessons in playing craps;
And the long philosophical discussions with my father about how to insulate a cottage by trapping dead air.
Not a lot mattered to Bob, but what did matter, mattered a great deal.
And that was living his life and loving his family. Constantly his doctors wondered how someone with a heart so injured could continue to live. We know how. Bob loved his life. And Susie took care to see that he could live it.
As one of his doctors said, "Do you know why he is still alive? Two words. Susie Elwood."
No matter what his challenges, Bob was having a good time. And his positive attitude was infectious. If I had a penny for every person at the calling hours who said they were cheered or amazed or inspired by Bob's attitude, his smile, his laugh, I would be a rich woman.
Family also mattered to Bob. Many of you remember his pleasure in those Friday nights when he and Susie would finally get to the beach and bring out the steamers and the lobsters.
And his daughters. Erin, I don't think Bob ever got over the fact that God had given him a daughter who shared his sense of humor. And Meg and Shan. Your father backed your lives so. He wanted you to be everything you could be. He wanted all his daughters to be in a league of their own.
Bob loved his grandchildren so much. He had a morning ritual. Every day he used a special cup that had a picture of Erin's children on it. He called this "Having breakfast with my grandchildren."
And at Christmas, when he told me about Shannon's new baby, Sean, his grin was so wide it was hard for his face to hold it in.
Now Bob was not perfect and it is probably true that he had heaven confused with Moody Beach (where the whole family went every summer).
Many of you remember him being wheeled down to the beach with his crossword tucked in by his side. And staying there all day with the family spread out around him.
And no matter what the challenges to his health, every so often he would look around at the waves and the sand and the sun and the family around him and say-
"This is the life. This is the life!"
And that is a lesson that Bob leaves us. No matter what our sorrow. No matter what our challenges. Look at the love in this room. Look at the family gathered here. And say, "This is the life!"
And so Bob,
May the road rise with you;
May the wind be always at your back;
May the sun shine warm on your face
and the rains fall soft on your fields;
May God keep you in the hollow of His hand
until we meet again.
-MCS
Or because it's beautiful.
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