Dad wasn’t very good at good-byes, and he always had one more story to tell. You can appreciate how hard it is for us – his children – in making some final comments, not to keep you for at least 30 more minutes. Each. We will try not to be long.

First of all, thank you for coming today to help us with our grief over the loss of Dad. Thank you Fr. Hightower and Fr. Robinson, and Ann – we can’t say enough good things about your being here today. We’d also like to thank the Island community for putting the circle of hands of the grandchildren and the hearts of the great grandchildren around Dad. We mourn, but we also celebrate.

We spent some time trying to find the right words to express our thoughts. We each have different memories and can’t begin to tell you all of them here. But one thing that repeatedly came up was Dad’s devotion to Mom. Before Mom, we understand he was a bit of a wild one. Of course Fr. Robinson can fill you in on the details. We only saw it in the form of Dad driving an orange Volkswagen mini-bus and telling us kids, “Don’t wave at the police and draw unnecessary attention.”

After he met Mom, he settled down a bit and spent his energy in other ways. Mom and Dad were inseparable. They made each other better. They celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary in April. It was never just Mom. Or Just Dad. It was always Mom and Dad. For example, “Hi Dad. Can I speak to Mom?” They discussed everything, but Dad carried the weight of the important decisions, like whether or not to invade China.

Even when Dad was alone, relaxing, Mom was always on his mind. He liked to listen to music. Sit in his easy chair, and drink tea, and listen to music. One of us might call in the afternoon and say, “Watcha doin?” He’d say, “sitting here. Drinking tea. Listening to music. Got to get up and get something done before Mom gets home.”

In the past few days we have heard many times that Dad’s jokes were appreciated. Almost as many times as we heard the jokes themselves. But, all joking aside, Dad was his whole life a person of integrity and honesty and kindness. There was never a question of who or what was important to him. He sacrificed repeatedly and consistently to make a better life for his family. It was not without challenge, much of it from us children. But, although he had strong principles and values, he never demanded that we live our lives one way or another. He took us as we were, sometimes with grumbling, sometimes with joy.

As we grew older, dad became more to us. He became a friend. And as we gather, and we look at each other, we find that the people we have become share his values and principles. We look at his grandchildren and see small mannerisms and attitudes that surprise us with their similarity to Dad. We love Mom. We tell bad jokes. And we’re not very good at good-byes.

On September 5, the sky momentarily darkened as Dad passed from this life into the next. But each day with his passing, as we experience the love of his neighbors, the support of the community, hear a bad joke, or see the mannerism, the twinkle in the eye, or that unmistakable figure of speech from one of the grandchildren, the clouds get a little thinner, the sky a little bluer, the sun a little brighter, and we can thank God that Dad was able to share his life with all of us.

We hope that you will join us after the Funeral Mass for food and a celebration of Dad’s life. Dad would have wanted that.

Dad – before you go, do you have time for some more stories?

—
The Children of James K. McLean

Thank you.