It was with love and tears and yes, laughs, that we said goodby to Maurice on his final journey - to heaven. Many of his nieces and nephews, who are diehard Red Sox fans, donned Yankee baseball caps for his final farewell. My brothers wore Yankee pins on their armbands. They sent him off "to the great ballpark in the sky," as Maurice would say. These are the words his eldest son, Brian, shared, speaking for both of our sons, Bill and Brian.

It’s been hard to sit down and think about exactly what to say about my dad. What do you say about someone who has had such an all-encompassing impact on your life? Over the past several days I have recognized that he has had a deep and lasting impact on every single corner of my life. So where do I even begin?

I could sit here and rattle off a million and a half stories about my dad from my lifetime. Great memories and special moments. At the same time my dad wasn’t really a “big moments” type of guy. He wasn’t about grandiose gestures or an outsized personality. He wasn’t about long-winded speeches or rambling stories. Don’t get me wrong, I love listening to a good storyteller regale an audience with a good adventure or tale. But that’s not who my dad was. 

It’s hard to talk about my dad because on one hand he was a very simple man. He was no-frills, straight to the point, and could often view things in a very black and white way. But the more you got to know him the more you recognized that he was a richly complex man who could exist comfortably in a variety of settings because his wide array of life experiences and his core values and authentic self, allowed him to know what was important in any situation.

He was a consistent man in nearly every facet of his life. Until he got sick towards the end of his lifetime, his taste in foods didn’t ever change… cheese and onion enchiladas, hot dogs with yellow mustard and relish, bologna sandwiches, and a few other favorites, most with tabasco on them. I could set my watch to the way he would respond verbally to different things. For example, as kids we knew that when he’d fall asleep on the couch, he’d tell us that he was “testing his eyelids for light leaks” ... or that when one of us spilled a drink at the table he’d exclaim in exasperation, “Every meal we got through this! Every meal!”. When you’d ask him a question that he was sure to say no to he’d put his hand to his head, like he was thinking really hard about it and ask, “What’s today, Wednesday?”, as if the day of the week had any bearing on his decision, and then he’d quickly say, “No.” The sort of things that growing up I’d roll my eyes at but that as an adult I find charm in.

I think a lot of people knew those things about my dad because he was always his authentic self, in any circle of people that he existed in. But there were sides to him that a lot of people didn’t know about. A generosity and commitment to his community and the people in it that is to be admired. When my brother Bill and I were kids, my dad started a youth baseball league through his church community. It started with about twenty kids and over a few years' time grew to over 600 kids on his watch. He donated hundreds, if not thousands, of hours to that endeavor, even after his own children were no longer playing in it, all for the benefit of his community. 

As much as we all knew him as straightforward and black and white most of the time, he could be widely accepting and open to helping anyone who needed it throughout his life as well. He’d volunteer his time to help others within his community or sit and talk, without fanfare, to someone who was struggling as well. And he could do that because he had been through his own struggles. He was born into very humble means in San Bernardino, California and had a litany of challenges thrown at him early in life. But he was nothing if not his mother’s son and like her, he fought his way through those struggles to build a life he could be proud of. 

I can’t continue speaking about my dad until I acknowledge his mom, my grandmother, Genevieve. As I have grown and aged and learned more about both of their lives, I have come to see how he, her oldest of six children, mirrored her. Quiet, dignified, proud, and a fighter. All qualities that exemplified my dad. All qualities that he got from her. Qualities that allowed him to extend himself to others within his community and lend a helping hand or an ear to listen to. Qualities that allowed him to earn the trust of others and allowed them to share their struggles with him.

There is another quality that he inherited from his mom that embodies who my dad was in his life and that is his commitment to family. As many of you know, my parents were married for over fifty years. Their love for each other crossed many boundaries, some visible and many not, and merged two widely different families and backgrounds into what I have come to know as my family. 

My parents and I, along with my wife Dana and my brother Bill, have often laughed at the different ways each side of my family operates and shows love to each other. On my mom’s side she and her siblings cannot be clearer about their love for each other, with effusive praise for one another dotting every conversation. Whereas on my dad’s side my grandma still will remind her kids “No fighting!” before a shared meal together! Where a deep love for and commitment to one another simmers below a surface of verbal jabs at one another. A lot of people have come to know that my dad referred to my mom as his “lovely bride” or that he always referred to my daughter as “the beautiful Isabella”. But what they may not know is that for a long time he referred to his youngest sister as, “The brat”. Because with his family he could needle them like that and yet underneath that, there was a deep love for each of his siblings, and later their families, that came with an unspoken understanding that he would do anything for them.

Of course, knowing my dad as a community member, a spouse, a son, or a sibling were all things I witnessed from the outside. Based on years of observations. But what I experienced him as, was a father. And let me tell you, he was an extraordinary one. Everyone deserves in life the type of dad that I had. The type who loves you unconditionally and without reservation. The type who, after your biggest screw ups in life, is there to hug you, tell you he loves you, and tell you that he’ll help you figure it out. My dad readily accepted flaws and mistakes and was such a consistent and loving presence in my life that I don’t quite know what I will do without him. There are moments I feel rudderless and disoriented without him here anymore. It’s almost panicking. But then I think about what he’d do… Show up on a consistent basis to love my family in whatever ways I am capable, give of myself to my community and those around me, and accept humanity in all the different forms we come in.

Rest well Dad… and thank you for all the ways you have loved us and all that you have given us.

When I get help with moving photos from one form of tech to another, I will post some photos of the celebration of Maurice's life. 

Many thanks to those of you who have followed Maurice and me on this journey and who have offered us words of love and support and encouragement throughout our journey. We are eternally grateful.

Love,

Jane