365 days.

One year has passed since my father died.

The past year all I have tried to do is keep on living exactly how he would have wanted me to.

Seems like a good path to stay on.

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Below is the eulogy I wrote for him, and managed to choke out at his funeral. Only now can I go back and read it without sobbing again. It's still heartbreaking to think of his suffering, and all he will miss out on. 

But finally I am reaching a really beautiful stage of grief. Mostly when I think of him I smile. I love to talk about him and remember him. I know you are supposed to "get over it" and I had one person suggest that I'm "just at that age" where parents die. (Really? 38? I dunno any age seems too young), I know it's part of life, and I accept it. 

But still miss him.

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Eulogy.

Before I begin I would like to thank all of you on behalf of my entire family for being here today and for the amount of compassion and sympathy shown to our family over the past week.

For those that do not know – my name is Karen and I am Dan’s oldest (and smartest) daughter.

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My father was my first love. He was my hero, my protector and supporter. I thought he lit the sky.

We all knew him in different ways. But we all have one thing in common – he was one we went to for advice, wisdom – or sometimes he would just say “Don’t worry.”

He truly enjoyed sharing his thoughts and advice.. I know he was a safety net for so many of us. He always knew what to do and was a rock for all of us to lean on. He loved all of us more than he loved himself. There has never been a moment in my life where I have doubted my father’s love and I know that many others are not so lucky. Most people never experience love like he and my mother had.

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Some of his last words of advice to me were “Take care of each other.”  That was my father. Still thinking of others even in his last days.

I always admired the kind of quiet dignity my father had. His stoic nature only amplified his incredibly unique sense of humor. I think we can all relate to my father’s rather dry wit at times. No one was immune from his remarks.

What I experienced last week was enormously profound. He knew what was happening, and even so – and even through a haze of morphine – he was STILL making sarcastic comments. He was still making us all laugh during such a heartbreaking time.

My father literally laughed in the face of death.

They say hearing is the last sense to go, but I am thinking for him it was humor.

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It was a privilege to be by the father’s side during his last moments. He helped bring me into this world, and I was there to help him leave. His death of course broke our hearts, but he also left me with a sense of peace that everything will be ok.

I think we can all agree there will never be another person like my father.

But we can carry on his legacy of kindness and humor.

And we can take care of each other.

Thank you.

If you want to know where I get my twisted, dry sense of humor.
You are lookin at it.