One truth about funerals is...it brings out the best in your family members....especially siblings. <insert sarcastic meme here>

So today I was told that the pastor presiding my dad's funeral does not permit eulogy's during his services. Instead I was informed that I may honor my father's memory by "telling stories" after the service when they serve cakes/coffee etc in the basement. Fucking seriously? I spoke for both my grandparents and my dad's brother, now for my dad, my option is to try and say something while people are chatting after the service, eating garbage sandwiches and clinking coffee cups?

A few minutes ago I was sent a copy of the obit that 'someone' wrote. It reads like absolute shit. It is disjointed and does not in anyway tell the story of who my dad was. Whomever wrote it literally took an obits template and filled in the blanks. For two cents I’d write my own and publish it. LOL …. random thought, I wonder if that ever happens?

Boys, I've not been this angry in a really really long time. If it was not for my sister needing me, I wouldn't even fucking go. After spending all last week in Florida, and now having to fly back again this week for the funeral, (My stepmom insisted on a speedy service, which kills those of us flying in on short notice) I'm into this thing close to $2k...

I'm not bitching about the money (kinda anyway) but my step mom has a lot of expectations of how this funeral will go, and as his only son, I am feeling a bit bitter and angry that I am being excluded from the decisions of how to best honor my dad.

Before anyone suggests it, there is no talking to her. Truth be told, I was tempted to not even go when I found out about the eulogy and the obit. My sister needs me though, so I will be there for her to protect her from my C-Word of a step-sister. Get this...stepsister felt inconvenienced by the too soon funeral, and after getting shut down by mom, she called the pastor directly to see if he would force my step-mom to push the funeral out a week. Yeah, that went over well.

Being a member of the "lost dad club" sucks ass.

Thanks for listening....

Final Update

I'm on the flight home from Florida and attempting to close this chapter. While I did get to read for my dad, it was not the way I would have chosen. That said, I'd like to share it here. He was a Korean War Vet and very proud of his service.

Intro
How do you tell the story of your father in just a few minutes, on just a half-a-dozen sheets of paper?

How do you communicate to so many people, in such a small amount of time, just what he meant to you, without missing anything?

How do you say goodbye to your friend, your fishing partner, your dad?

Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve stood in front of groups of family and friends and spoke for my Gramma, my Grandpa, and my dad’s brother. The words just came to me – it was difficult, but they flowed once I started writing. The truth is I finished writing this today, about an hour or so ago – because as soon as I’d begin writing, I’d have to accept the fact that…my dad is … gone.... No, dead. My dad is dead, and this is the first time I have been able to say those words outloud.

Fishing
Dad loved to fish, in fact if there is a way to more than “love to fish”, that was dad. The trips we took have left me with some of my fondest memories.

Ice fishing on ice that we never should have been driving on, and how we never lost a vehicle I do not know. For whatever reason I couldn’t get him to understand that it was not a pot hole we were driving over (that kept getting bigger by the way), it was a flipping hole in the ice!

We fished on Lake of the Woods when it was so cold the boat anchor rope actually began to ice up. We’d sleep in a fish house, miles out on Lake Winibegash with his friend Ken Sundquist and my Uncle Donnie. We’d pull jumbo-perch out of ice holes as fast as we could bait the hooks, and could see down the hole far enough where we could see the slowly swimming walleye.

Our game was to tempt them take a chance on the seductively dancing worms we were dangling in front of them. If there were fish to be caught, dad wanted to be part of it.

One of my favorites stories though – the year was 1989 and I was just a few months away from going to Marine Corps boot camp. My best friend Todd and I rented a cabin in McGregor, MN to fish for a weekend in June. There was a very old wooden bridge that we fished under, and this particular weekend we found that the Crappies were biting like we had not seen in some time.

The fishing was so good in fact, that that evening I drove into town to use the payphone (cel phones were not even thought of at this point) to call dad and razz him a bit. He had just been at the very same bridge a week earlier and…well to be kind, did not exactly have the success that and Todd and I were seeing. Dad and I had a great conversation and I could tell our fishing luck was eating at him. I left that payphone feeling very satisfied.

The next morning Todd and I tied up to the bridge around 5am (you needed to get there early to get a spot) and no sooner did we get lines in the water then I looked over to the shoreline and there was my dad…fishing pole and tackle box in hand….just staring at us like a puppy waiting for the ball to be thrown.

Turns out after I called him, he sat at home pouting, obsessing over the fact that we were catching fish and he was not. Eventually mom said, “Skip, Go!”. So he did. Making the trip with the “hope” we’d show mercy on him and let him into our boat.

For just the briefest of moments, I considered messing with him and leaving him on the shore for a bit, but I knew if we waited too long we’d end up losing our spot under the bridge. The 3 of us caught our limit of Crappies and Walleyes in just a few hours and by 10am he was fileting fish and cooking us one pretty amazing breakfast.

Truth be told though, many of our fishing trips ended in less fish than we had hoped for, but we never ran short of fun and stories. Typically, the days were arctic cold, and I can remember praying to the good lord above that we not catch even just one more fish…because one more fish meant a guaranteed one more hour of freezing hands and toes. And let me tell you, you have not experienced cold fingers until you have pulled minnows out of an ice cold bucket and tried to bait a hook with those frozen fingers.

There are dozens of examples I could share, but the one that always sticks with me was a cold December in 1993. Dad and I were driving along the North Shore, no particular reason but I was home on leave and it was something to do. At one point we saw a group of guys ice fishing on Lake Superior, about 50 yards off shore….”Hey!” he said. “Look at that!” <Head drop> Was my response.

Within minutes he had found a place to park on the side of the road and was digging around the back of the pickup truck, looking for his toys. As I recall, he found a few tip ups, an old ice fishing pole, and a very large (about 6 feet) and very heavy chisel. I can tell you, in no way were we dressed for this, but if fish were being caught, comfort was of secondary concern to dad.

As we walked across the cold and crunchy ice, he kept his head down, looking for something – finally “here!” he pointed at what looked like an ice hold that had been previously drilled. “Here what?” I remember asking and he said, “use the chisel and open this back up again!” <Head Down> “you have GOT to be kidding me”.

Nope.

This went on for 6 different holes, and let me tell you, these were not “fresh” fishing holes. It took me quite a while to get each hole open and as I’d open one, he’d point to another spot. The worst of it was, I do not recall us catching any fish, but man was it cold.

He was a Prankster
Dad was always ready for a joke or a gotcha, as I recall he would say “Pickle”. The one I remember most was the joke that never was. It was a Sunday morning and he was looking out the patio door to the woods and called my sister Jen and me to come right away.

“Come look at the deer!” he called. Jen and I were pretty young and both thought, “uh huh, we’ve seen this movie before” and were not falling for another dad’s “pickles”. The harder we laughed at him, the more obviously frustrated he became…there actually were deer there, and it really upset him that we would not believe him.

His solution was to come up with a code word – “honest”. If he said that word, then we knew he was not joking. I don’t know if I ever told dad this, but I carried that word forward to my own kids. They now refer to it as an “Anderson Honest”.

Over the years they have learned to reply to nearly everything with,“Daaaad….say Anderson Honest”…which of course has greatly reduced the amount tricks and fun I can have at their expense, but, going forward, I will always smile when I hear them offer that challenge.

He resisted technology at every opportunity
To the point where he took pride that he lived his whole life and never used an ATM machine. In fact it was not that long ago where he literally did not know what an ATM machine even was.

But dad loved developing and fostering relationships with people, and why use a machine when you can walk into the credit union and actually have a conversation with someone. That is a quality about him that I very much cherish, and try to emulate.

One quick technology story that makes me laugh. We were sitting on my deck in Minneapolis a few years ago when he asked me if I knew what the outside temperature was.

My iphone was sitting next to me on the table and without evening touching it I said, “Hey Siri, what’s the temp?”

A moment later she replied, “John, it is 78 degrees outside”.

Feeling pretty proud of my continued embracement of technology, I looked at him with a “what do you think of that?” expression on my face….without missing a beat he said, “Hey John….get me a beer”. He wins again.

Family
Dad loved his children and hated saying goodbye. It became a bit of an inside joke that saying “good bye” was difficult for him, and you did not have to try very hard to find a tear in the corner of his eye.

He was fiercely loyal to Terry, and about the only way to get him genuinely angry with you was to say or do something that he considered a slight towards her.

So thank you, mom, for taking care of him all these years. As siblings, the 3 of us have often talked about the belief that if not for your dedicated commitment to keeping him well, he likely would have been lost to us long ago.

Closing
I asked earlier, How do you say goodbye to your dad?

I still don’t know how to answer that – but I am trying. Before I left him at the hospital to fly home to Minneapolis, I stood with him for an hour.

I caressed his cheek and just talked to him. I told him stories, I told him that I loved him. And then I told him that I had to go.

Leaning over his hospital bed, I gently kissed him on the forehead and said, “Goodbye Poppy”…and for the first time, it was I who was left with the goodbye tears in my eyes.

In closing, I will leave you with this quote from my wife Jennifer:

“He was such a sweet, gentle man, I am really going to miss him.”

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Ronin1069,

You dad raised you, he knew you and what manner of man you are.

None of what other's do here changes that.

And unfortunately, the "better people" at times must suffer people like this.

When you have done all that you can, stand tall.

"spend the time with your dad", go to a place in your mind, and "sit with him" and "talk".

My dad was killed in a dragster crash before I was born, I have been in the "lost dad club", my whole life.

And yes, it sucks.

Thank you, Monkey.

Ronin,

If the pastor is doing a service (Anglicans do) for funerals, there will probably be a semi polite time to interrupt.

Sorry for your situation but it unfortunately is all too common. In my younger days I had a part time gig at a funeral home. It amazed me when families put the "fun" in dysfunctional at the time of the funeral.
When my mother died, my family came to me and said they had no money for the arrangements. I then used my entire paltry savings to pay for the funeral and a simple memorial service. My family then told me that they were very unhappy with the arrangements and that I should pay for a much more extravagant send off and coffin.
I then went to the funeral director and demanded my money back.
That's right, I got a refund on my mothers funeral. I told my family they were on their own and broke all contact with them. My life was much better off.
Based on these experiences, I will leave very explicit instructions for my last arrangements with a very simple cremation and no service. Any other memorials will be up to those I leave behind to plan.
A funeral should be for all who knew the deceased to come together and honor and celebrate the life lived. All too often it comes to just another family fight.

Ronin,

Sorry for your lose. Family time for me is trying, even in the best of times. I always try to figure what people's motives, or unsaid agendas are. It sucks, and I'm sure I over analyze.

Sounds like your sister needs you there, I'm sure she appriciates you. Good luck - and be strong. Few people ever say "I wish I hadn't been there" in serious family times.

Eric

Ronin you have my deepest sympathies for the loss of your Father.

My Father passed away seven years ago today.

We would be honored to hear the eulogy or obituary in your own words.

Also the Carrie Underwood song 'Temporary Home' was very meaningful to me after the loss of my Father. I hope it gives you some comfort.

Semper Fidelis

Sorry for your loss brother. Im in the club too. And i also had step siblings that royally fucked things up, its bax enough you have to grieve for your dad. Hang in there buddy, you re there for your sister, stay cool. I'm sorry for your loss.

Any chance you can get your written tribute in the funeral program?

When my mother left this earth I told my sister take whatever you want. No need to fight over things that I have lived without for 60+ years, I'm sure I can survive. Chris

I'm fortunate that my sister is nothing like that and will call before any decisions are made with my mother's care. I'm lucky that I can leave so much to her and not have to worry things will be handled correctly.

She was there for me when my wife passed and helped me decide that it was better to not even try to have a formal funeral. She knew my wife as well as anyone and knew what was the right thing to do.

sucks at this time to have to fight family. hang in and get past it. You'll find that friend become more of a family at these times.

I believe more ministers/priest/churches have adopted the no eulogy rule after dealing with some crazy people.

I have attended a number of funerals where family members turned, what should have been a solemn remembrance, into a a remembrance of a different type.

Remember your father in life. Don't focus on the events surrounding the funeral. I never knew how cruel, crazy, uncaring, assholistic, and rude some families can be until my step MIL passed away. Hold your head up and be classy.

Mike

Ronin, if you want to give a eulogy, you should interrupt and give one. They can't stop you if you are aggressive enough.

I am very sorry for your loss Brother. Do what you feel good about doing despite efforts to silence you.

quote:

Ronin, if you want to give a eulogy, you should interrupt and give one. They can't stop you if you are aggressive enough.

Jeff, don't think I have not considered that. But...as a final gift to my father, I will show up in Florida, take care of my sister, hug my step-mother, and avoid my step-sister. I will show up to the church as directed, hold my tongue when asked, and say whatever I can to whomever will listen if given the opportunity.

When I come home Thursday night I am going to post here the eulogy that I write for my father. I am then going to pour a very fine bourbon and smoke the finest cigar in my collection. My hope is that at some point during that period, I will finally be able to permit myself to feel some emotion. And cry.

quote:

Originally posted by Ronin1069:
Jeff, don't think I have not considered that. But...as a final gift to my father, I will show up in Florida, take care of my sister, hug my step-mother, and avoid my step-sister. I will show up to the church as directed, hold my tongue when asked, and say whatever I can to whomever will listen if given the opportunity.

When I come home Thursday night I am going to post here the eulogy that I write for my father. I am then going to pour a very fine bourbon and smoke the finest cigar in my collection. My hope is that at some point during that period, I will finally be able to permit myself to feel some emotion. And cry.

You seem to have found the perfect path to walk through this. I'm considering it good advice as well and will remember it when my Dad passes.

Condolences on your loss.

I'm sorry to hear this. Prayers for your loss and your strength during a challenging time.

Sounds like you have a good plan. Good on you.

I think you are doing the right thing in honoring your father in the way you mentioned. It takes an incredible amount of courage to do the right thing while having to sit quiet in the middle of all of that.

May God bless you with peace as you go forward.

quote:

Originally posted by Ronin1069:

quote:

Ronin, if you want to give a eulogy, you should interrupt and give one. They can't stop you if you are aggressive enough.

Jeff, don't think I have not considered that. But...as a final gift to my father, I will show up in Florida, take care of my sister, hug my step-mother, and avoid my step-sister. I will show up to the church as directed, hold my tongue when asked, and say whatever I can to whomever will listen if given the opportunity.

When I come home Thursday night I am going to post here the eulogy that I write for my father. I am then going to pour a very fine bourbon and smoke the finest cigar in my collection. My hope is that at some point during that period, I will finally be able to permit myself to feel some emotion. And cry.

I am off Thursday night, I will pour a Jameson's and have a Ghurka Warrior while I read it about 25 miles south of Boston

quote:

When I come home Thursday night I am going to post here the eulogy that I write for my father. I am then going to pour a very fine bourbon and smoke the finest cigar in my collection. My hope is that at some point during that period, I will finally be able to permit myself to feel some emotion. And cry.

Great plan, spend some quality time with your dads memory, nothing else matters in the overall scheme of things.

Weather the storm that are funerals enjoy those you love, avoid those that are problems and do your part...

quote:

Originally posted by Ronin1069:

quote:

Ronin, if you want to give a eulogy, you should interrupt and give one. They can't stop you if you are aggressive enough.

Jeff, don't think I have not considered that. But...as a final gift to my father, I will show up in Florida, take care of my sister, hug my step-mother, and avoid my step-sister. I will show up to the church as directed, hold my tongue when asked, and say whatever I can to whomever will listen if given the opportunity.

When I come home Thursday night I am going to post here the eulogy that I write for my father. I am then going to pour a very fine bourbon and smoke the finest cigar in my collection. My hope is that at some point during that period, I will finally be able to permit myself to feel some emotion. And cry.

Ronin, I lost my father in Oct 2016. I too, am/was, an only son. I can't even imagine dealing with your "instructions" and based upon your post above, you sir, have an extreme amount of grace.

Prayers sent, best of luck at the funeral, and I will now pour myself a very nice beer, and toast our respective fathers.

Prost!!!