A Passing

Last week, I attended a funeral mass for a neighbor, who was 82-years-old. Another member of the greatest generation to pass away. Ed was a husband, a father and a grandfather. He served in the Navy. By trade, he was an upholsterer…and a good one at that.

 

My oldest son, Matt, was the connection between Ed and myself. When Matt was young, he had a newspaper route and one of his customer’s was Ed. One day, years ago, Ed offered Matt a job working for him. It was a job, Matt couldn’t refuse and a friendship began that has lasted almost over 30 years. Ed actually taught Matt more than how to reupholster; he also taught him how to tie a necktie.

 

Occasionally, I would run into Ed and his wife, Betty at mass. Every time that I talked with them, I was always struck by their kindness and happiness. They were always upbeat and always inquired about my son, Matt. They would sing their praises about my son, and tell me how proud they were of him, as if he was their son. They actually treated Matt like their son and enjoyed when he would visit them with one of his little children in tow.

 

While greeting Betty before the service, between tears, all she could say was, “60 years of marriage. I don’t know what I will do now that he is gone.”

 

Sixty years of marriage is a long, long time. But then like my old 7^th grade teacher, Sr. Mary Johanna, said year ago pointing to a raid drop on one of the long windows in the classroom, “Our life is like that rain drop.” As I watched it slowly making its way down the glass, before I knew it, it was at the bottom. Its life journey was over.

 

To me, Ed was one of the last of his generation: the Greatest Generation. He was truly a good man, a religious man, a gentle man, as well as a gentleman. He will be deeply missed by Betty, his family and his friends.

 

But to echo what the others said – we are here to live our lives the way this wonderful man lived his and showed us how to live.

 

After the funeral, I sat on my upholstered furniture, the pieces that Ed re-upholstered, many years ago, thinking about Ed.  I sat there lovingly stroking the fabric, admiring the workmanship and finally all I could do was murmur -  “Thank you, Ed for this and much more…”