On Sunday January 24, 2016, at 4:22 pm, I received a text message from my sister; it said just this: "He's gone." My grandfather had died at the age of 93, twelve days after his birthday. He was a Master Mechanic; he was awarded a Silver Star for gallantry in action against the enemy during the first wave of the Invasion of Normandy by Allied Forces; he was a careful and dedicated gardener; he was a hard worker. When we talked he never asked me "How's work?" but "Are you working?" He knew I was working, he knew I had a job, but he always asked me like that, as if I wasn't, or as if I could stop working. So, when my aunt, and then my father, asked me to prepare a Eulogy for his funeral I started thinking about his legacy, mainly the work ethic he exemplified, the lessons I tried to learn from his example, and that's where I started. I was deeply honored that I was asked to speak on his memory--I loved my grandfather deeply. And I'm also glad I finally got to read in front of him at least one time.
