My father was not a simple man. He was full of love and goodness but he faced his own struggles and share of dark nights. And yet, through the hardest time of my life - he was the family member who stood bravely at my side. I will never forget the love that he exhibited those days and what it felt to be so unconditionally loved. For that and for 38 years of trying to lead by his own living example, I was honored to write and read his eulogy.
Thank you for coming.
I am Mary, Paul’s youngest child and mom to Joe, lovingly known to Papa
as “matey”. We are all at a loss for
the right words to use to describe my father.
He was one-of-a-kind, overwhelmingly empathetic, and certainly eclectic. He had a memory unlike anyone I’ve ever
known – could recall dates, names and details with perfect accuracy and without
hesitation. I believe that’s because he
was blessed with a great amount of intellect but also because he so GENUINELY
cared about everyone and every story he heard.
For the past few years, I’ve been spending Monday evenings with my
parents. They would pick up my son from school and I would join for
dinner. During those weekly dinners, my
dad loved to tell me stories – moving from Charlestown to Medford as children,
his paper route, his beloved uncle who dressed so dapper and took him to Red Sox games, playing dice or
poker with his friends after school, and eventually meeting my mother – the
person to whom he credits as, “the best decision of my life”.
We could go on and on with tales of his generosity, many of
you sitting here today have likely been a recipient of my father’s surprise
cash gestures or helping hand. His long
time employees at the Loft reminded us of the annual Christmas gifts they would
receive from him, I easily recall my father sitting at the kitchen table
writing each member of the kitchen staff a handwritten note. As many of them were from the Dominican
Republic, he would say “Feliz Navidad”, a nod to their shared humanity and his
own expression of equality and goodness. They loved him so much they once gave him a
plaque recognizing him as an “Honorary Dominican” ….. if you know my dad, you
know he didn’t exactly look very Dominican 😊
Similar stories have come from our family and loved ones in Brazil. My father opened the door for his new in-laws
and extended family with a love and graciousness that cannot be explained but
will never be forgotten. His living
lessons of love, kindness, and inclusion have left an indelible impression on
me and by the turnout yesterday and here today, my guess is many of you.
But my dad’s greatest gift to me wasn’t his generosity or
even his stead-fast love, my father’s greatest gift to me was his unwavering
faith in his Catholicism and belief in the hereafter. When I was saddened by someone’s passing, he
would comfortingly say, “Mare, God called them home.” I have carried my father’s gift of faith
with me through the years but never so much as during his passing and through
the days that have followed. It has been
a true gift and one that has given me so much comfort. He wouldn’t want us to be sad. He’d be smiling his big smile, proud of his
family for putting this beautiful day together, reminding us that we are
Christians and we BELIEVE.
My dad made it perfectly clear how overwhelmingly PROUD he
was of his family, I hope he always felt, and will continue to feel, how PROUD
I am that he is my Dad.
