Eulogy

So, tonight a friend proposed to me a question. “Can you write something to be read at a Eulogy? It’s for my Grandfather. “ Now, I’ve never met this man in my lifetime, but maybe I will in the next one. The only thing I can safely assume that due to the time of his death that he was a World War II veteran. Which, by the grace of God is something that I can relate to. Not because I’ve fought a war, fired a gun at another man, demolished a building, or yelled commands in a forigen language to the people I am fighting against. Oh no, I can write this because my great grandfathers were veterans. Proud veterans. Two men whom I love dearly, and would even give my own life to sit and have coffee with them one morning.
The greatest gift that they have ever passed through a bloodline is their pride. Ignore the diseases, the health problems, the “addictions” (if you will), but their values are more evident than any other generation of the twentyith century. These were earnest men, hard working, dedicated, loving, caring, observant, and most of all, family men.
They went across an ocean to fight a war and weren’t exactly expected to come back. Their dog tags, a valiant medal hung around their neck to give to their grandkids. To give to their best friends in order to give to their wife. A medallion to be given to their children back at home that they had to leave behind. Forget their boots, forget their helmets, forget the neatly folded flag that was given to them by their country, forget the white cross stapled above their grave, the dog tags hold the most meaning one man can have.
Their name, their blood type, their identification number, their legacy hung around their sun beaten, or frost bitten necks. These were men of valor, honor, integrity. Men in which we should remember for their contributions not only to a war, not to a country, not to end a tryanny…but to a family, a wife, a child, a future generation, a promise, a wedding vow. Wasted and wounded these men fought for what we have today.
Letters from a loved one stuffed in their chest pocket. The smell of the sweet perfume their lovers wear. A secondary letter written of love, lust, and instructions also folded up nicely behind their lovers letter for the “just in case”. Given to their best friend to send back to their wives, their girlfriends, their children.
John Steinbeck says it best, “It has always seemed strange to me... the things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling, are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest, are the traits of success. And while men admire the quality of the first they love the produce of the second.”
Which is why we should honor the fallen. Not just the soldiers, but the generation that they came from. They re-appear as stars dotting the sky. Giving us hope, direction, guidance, even more so a chance. The twinkling lights on a clear night are all the lost loved ones we have had, along with the thousands of other loved ones who admire the sky every night looking for that special twinkle. That recognizeable twinkle that let’s us know we are being looked upon from the heavens.
Much like the look of two star gazed lovers with crossed eyes, staring intently at every movement, every rise and fall of the chest while they are sleeping, their hair tossing back and forth across the pillow while they toss and turn, the way position their hand in yours, the way they seem to fit magically between your arms, how they smile in their sleep during a dream. In the same way our lost love and family stares upon us from the stars. We can’t see them in the daytime, but the stars still shine through the blue skies. A perfect sonnet if you will.
We choose paths in life not for eternity, but for the times. What the times shall bring? Nobody knows, that’s the excitement of it all. We trip, we stumble, we dream of something better, but in the end? We all close our eyes and lay down to rest. Our dreams never cease. For we keep searching, we continue learning, we continue growing long after we close our eyes. We search for clarity, for purpose, for love, passion, desire, success…our dreams become part of our lives.
We are all born as rain drops. Full of meaning, full of hope, full. We patter against the walls, the windows, the wills of other human beings. We start floods which turn into lakes, lakes which branch off into rivers, rivers which feed into oceans, oceans which crash against shores of far away lands. Full of life, full of wonder and beauty.
So let us not view the greiving process as something that is morose and mundane, but a celebration. A gathering of friends, of family, of a legacy. A gathering of a room full of “remember that time when…”. A gathering of love, respect, admiration, and determination.