Amy's Eulogy for Stone Groove

There are endless things that could be said about my dad. All who knew him, even if they met him only once, even if they only heard stories of him from others, had a chance to experience his unique and often bizarre sense of humor. For example, his love and unflagging amusement by the Oriole “Bird in a dress." Originally simply a Baltimore Orioles bobblehead, my dad took a dress off of a pilgrim beanie baby and adorned the Oriole bobble head in this lovely blue dress. Known after that as simply “the bird in the dress," my dad never ceased to be amused by this silly bobble head bird attire.

Another example of his sense of humor was when he would be flipping channels, and land on the Spanish-speaking station. My father, having failed Spanish in college, would make up his own absurd dialogue to the programs.

My father did not often say sentimental things or speak strong feelings directly, often turning these emotions into a joke. But, he showed these emotions in other ways. Like when I was a kid and would wait for him to come home from work everyday, and I would run out the door and hug him around his legs and he would give me a big hug back. Or when my grandfather, David died, and at his burial, my dad took my hand and held it tightly while we both tried our best to keep it together. Or when I graduated from college, walking across the stage and seeing him standing on the other side of the stage with a proud look on his face.

Or after his kidney was removed when his cancer was initially diagnosed. He was recovering at home and could not sleep. In the middle of the night, seeing that my light was still on, knocked on my door to see if I wanted to watch TV with him. We stayed up through the night, watching Friends, Seinfeld, and most memorably The Graduate. My dad would recount that night fondly over the years, often joking that he would wake me up during the night so that we could watch The Graduate together again.

Or when I was living with my parents for a couple years after college and watching the Gilmore Girls with him, an often quite sentimental show. I would always know exactly what sentimental moments in the show would get to him; at these moments I would look across the room to him in his La-Z-Boy to note his “cry face”, which he would always, of course, deny.

Or his initial stubborn refusal to let me get my dog Lucy 3.5 years ago. I luckily didn’t listen to him and he quickly became one of Lucy’s biggest fans. And how much she comforted him in his last days, repeatedly remarking, “Lucy is such a good dog." Lucy stayed with him, under the bed, on the night he died, and she refused to leave the room after he passed away.

On the night he died, I held onto his hand and rested my head on his arm. A memory came to me of my dad taking me to see The Little Mermaid when I was 6. When I was scared of the evil character Ursula, I sat on his lap, and he wrapped his arms around me and I knew at that moment that I was safe. As he lay dying, I felt a sense of panic that my dad was soon not going to be there anymore to protect me. But, I soon realized that his essence will always be with me, and that I was going to be okay.

I am like my father in a lot of ways; not just my looks (which he would always remark how lucky I was to look so much like him); but I also knew him so well that I know he will always remain with me. He passed on to me his sense of humor.

A couple of days before he died he told me how proud he was of me. I am sure he was referring to the accomplishments I have achieved thus far in my life such as earning a Master’s degree and starting my career. But, I think one of his proudest moments of me was when I prank called him. My father was notorious for making prank phone calls. He would often go upstairs with his cell phone and call the house number. My mother and I, seeing who was calling on the caller ID would ignore the phone call. He was so amused with himself and would laugh before he could get through the message. After leaving the message (which my mother and I could hear him leaving upstairs), he would nonchalantly come down the stairs and say to us “Hey guys, I think someone called and left a message." Again, we would ignore him as he giggled to call the voice mail and play his message on speakerphone.

Later, I got the ultimate prank call payback. In the last year, when he was in the hospital, about to be discharged to the Hebrew Home of Greater Washington, I called his hospital room. He answered the phone and I said, “Hello, I am calling from the Hebrew Home to find out about your dietary preferences for your upcoming discharge here. I just have a few questions; do you like matzoh ball soup?” He answered no. “Do you like gefilte fish?” Again, he answered no. “Would you like us to leave a yarmulke for you on your pillow?”

A few seconds of silence followed and my dad finally said “Ohhh, Amy!” He was so proud of this prank phone call, he was bragging to all the nurses and visitors to his hospital room. I was so close to my father, and knew him so well, that he passed on the essence of his personality to me. While I know he is not physically with me anymore, the best parts of him will always remain with me, and that makes me certain that I will be okay without him.