Long before dad got sick he would always say he wanted to write his own eulogy. For those of you who REALLY knew him, I am sure it’s not surprising to hear. He would say, who knows me better than myself? He made a valid point.

Remembering this, on a trip down to Sloan for treatment, with just the two of us in the car I asked him if he still wanted to write it. He said no Courtney, you can write it. I have faith it will be magnificent. There was a long pause as I tried to catch my breath, feeling incredibly touched that he would entrust me with such a beautiful tribute. I looked at his frail body and smiled. As my tear filled eyes met his he said, as only dad can, just make sure you don’t screw this up.

That was dad. He always knew how he wanted things to be, and believed in those he loved enough to know that if it wasn’t his exact way, it would still be great. I am honored to have been the chosen one, but selfishly wish we weren’t all here now. Being here means dad isn’t and that is still such an unbelievably hard pill to swallow.

Dad was a man who wore many hats. He was a supportive and loving husband and father, doting grandfather, wise cracking father in law, loyal friend, respected coach, mentor, second dad to many, and die hard Dodger fan. He was a great listener, gave the best hugs, had the brightest smile, and the most contagious laugh. He believed that actions should have consequences and that it was important to learn from your mistakes.

His sense of humor was unmatched, as were his sarcasm and quick wittedness. The running joke in the family was there wasn’t anything dad didn’t know. Anytime we had a question we needed answered, he was right there to provide it. It always came quickly and with such confidence. Even if it was the most ridiculous answer, we never questioned him. Dad was ALWAYS right…even when he wasn’t.

From the time Jennifer and I were five, starting our softball journey on the Chicks until well into our teens, retiring as Hawks, dad was always in the dugout coaching us. He enjoyed nothing more than sharing the love of the game with his players. He worked us hard but also made sure we had fun. There were three things you were certain would happen every game. Dad would be wearing his Dodger hat. He would be chewing bubble gum flavored bubble tape, and he would be yelling at me to pay attention and stop fooling around. As the years progressed, our antics became quite the comedy routine for spectators.

So many of his softball girls loved and respected him. Since his passing I have heard from quite a few with stories about dad I never knew. His heart was kind, and he clearly took the time to get to know his players on a personal level. He found a community he loved at New Windsor Girls Softball and we have so many incredible memories from our time with them. Lifelong friendships were made. Many of the families he coached are sitting here now.

More than anything though, dad loved his family. He and mom were married for 48 years. We rarely saw them fight and they could always be found doing things together. Dad loved to buy mom cool gadgets at Christmas and there was always one unexpected big gift for her under the tree. His gifts were thoughtful and always had a backstory. Not just for mom, but for all of us. He loved Christmas.

Their love was inspiring. When dad got sick mom was the light in his darkness. She was his biggest cheerleader and made him fight hard until his last breath. When he was weak and could barely speak she filled him in on the daily happenings. She made sure he was eating and drinking and carried on as if it were any other ordinary day. Watching the two of them together the last two weeks before dad died made my heart full. She was his person, and he was hers.

Dad was the best girl dad. When I think back on our childhood there wasn’t a moment he wasn’t involved in. He supported us through grade school and college, checking homework and editing papers. He made every event that we had, even the most painful of band concerts. He was our biggest supporter and greatest defender. When we messed up, he let us know, and honesty was always highly regarded. Our friends were treated like his own. He held nothing back. His love was unconditional. There was never a lack of I love yous and he made sure we spoke daily.

When the grandkids came, Dad got soft. He defended them, spoiled them, and made sure he was there to support them. He enjoyed his pre-teen conversations with Arianna, was in awe of Haileys skills as a gymnist, and thought Jack was the funniest and most active child he had ever met. CJ was his absolute best buddy. They played cars for hours each time we would visit, spoke their own special language, and dad always answered the 900 million questions CJ would have. Never once did he tire of hearing him say Pa, followed by rapid fire questioning. Ella though, she was his special little girl. She grabbed his self proclaimed joules and smiled as only she can each time Grandpa had her on his lap. He watched her struggle, and triumph, and was her biggest cheerleader. A smile from Ella always came with the biggest grin and genuine laugh from dad.

He also had the greatest respect for Steve and Frank. He would often say he didn’t worry so much about us anymore because we are in good hands. Their relationships were authentic and dad always took the time to check in and see how they were doing. As painful as listening to those long sport related conversation were, I would give anything to hear them again.

We all miss him. Every day. Family was his everything, and we are all feeling his absence. Dad lived a good life and I bet if you asked him if he had any regrets, he would tell you no. His life was full, as so is ours because he was part of it.

When the grandkids would ask Grandpa how many friends he had, he would always say three. He sold himself sort. He was incredibly loved by so many people.

It has been said that a person dies twice. Once when their body makes its heavenly journey and once when the last time their name is spoken. I believe this to be true, and know that as long as those Dad loves are here to share his memories and speak his name, he will be with us for years to come.

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