EULOGY FOR MY FATHER, FRANCIS HERRMANN

Someone once said "You can choose your friends, you can choose your spouse, you have a choice when it comes to a lot of other things, but you can't choose your family". The family you are born into is the outcome of some kind of cosmic roll of the dice, and let's face it, the odds aren't always that great. So it is truly a gift to be born into a wonderful family; and you are especially blessed when you have wonderful parents. I/We have been blessed with such a gift - a sentiment that I realize and appreciate more, as I grow older.

As I contemplate the conspicuousness of this moment, I cannot help being struck by the irony of it all: Dad was a modest person, one who never relished the limelight. As such, I think he would have felt self-conscious about this service, this eulogy, and everyone's attention being centered on him. Instead he would have wanted us to change our focus - from him to ourselves. He would have wanted us to use this time to look within and gain a new appreciation of everyone in our lives and find new ways to make our time together more precious, more meaningful. If you will, take a moment with me to do just that.

In this time of transition from "being with" to "memories of" there is some consolation for me, indeed for all of us, in the good feelings that our memories give us. Memories of "playing in the back yard" and coming face to face with Dad, a crouched man, with open arms, waiting to catch and hug you. He had an unselfish devotion to family. Gone to the firehouse at the crack of dawn and returning home well after dusk - my father was not afraid of hard work.

I had the distinct pleasure of being with dad during his failing years. The grandchildren were very special to him, I saw the pleasures he had nurturing and caring for these children. At times it was obvious that he no longer had the strength and mobility that he was used to, he would still pick them up at every opportunity. He would sit for hours in the backyard with his grandchildren on his knees, telling them stories, and answering all the questions that inquisitive children ask. Even though his grandchildren were only months old I think he had understood it all. It was as if he was passing the mantle onto his grandchildren. This was quite evident in the few hours before his passing when he kept asking for his children by name.

My father had a very simple philosophy - Do all the good you can to all the people you can and good will forever follow you. Dad impressed upon us the phrase, "If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything." He had a simple existence - he would always impress this philosophy upon us, as a guidepost for continuing to do good knowing that his rewards won't be here on earth.

Most important, for me, however, are the fond memories of the love that he had for his children. On the day before his passing, while visiting him in the hospital, and in trying to console him as well as myself, I turned to him and said " Dad, do you know that I love you" and he replied "I love each of you, and am proud of every one of my children. I know that my brothers and sisters can attest to this love, if not let me translate "It has been said that a man who has a son is blessed. There are five boys here today who would say that they are blessed. Blessed for having a wonderful, devoted family man for a father. For 30 years dad was the source of unyielding guidance to us. He was my guardian a trusted confidant and friend. He was always there to share a laugh or give his unique insightful perspective on any issue that I wanted to talk about. You see, as a father of seven children, he had suffered a near fatal stroke, which left him disabled for several days. After recovering, it seems as if he made himself a promise - That if and when he recovered, he would make it his personal responsibility to see to it that none of us would find ourselves in a similar position. We are all the better today as a result of his vigilance.

In the final analysis-when you're lying down there and everyone else is standing/sitting out there, and the votes are tallied about your life, it doesn't matter what kind of car you drove or what you did for a living. You are remembered for what is important: did you have a heart? did you love people? did people love you? did you give more than you took? were you thoughtful, kind, easy to be with? did you have an impact on people's lives? were you fun? did you have a sense of humor? and ultimately, will you be missed? To all of these questions I can say, YES, a resounding YES, about my father. Above all he will be remembered for the richness of the memories and the depth of the feelings that he gave to others. My father has enriched my life beyond measure, and for that, I will always be grateful. He will always hold a special place in my heart, in our hearts. During my reflections I came across a poem written by Mary E. Frye. I know my father would have loved it dearly, entitled:

DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep, I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the mornings hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I did not die.