Yesterday, like last Tuesday, I went to a funeral. This was a much different one. This man was 17 days shy of his 89th birthday when he passed away, and he was surrounded by family who loved him and caregivers who had grown to love him over the time they’ve been with him and his wife in their home.
He was my sister’s father-in-law, and because my sister and her husband started dating in high school, fifty years ago, we have all known each other a very long time. The family has always included my family and me as part of their family.
His name was Marty, but he was also known as Lefty, and with the seven grandchildren, he was Pop. He enlisted in the Navy at 17 (he lied and said he was 18), met his future wife, married, and had three children. He was an embalmer for the family funeral home, owned a gas station at one point, and eventually settled on owning a boarding kennel in 1975, shortly after my sister and her husband started dating.
We would spend Sundays at the pool on the kennel property during summers in college, and again when our son was young. He would walk up from the house or the kennel to see what was going on. Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day were spent there with him and his wife, their kids, and grandkids. My dad was always included in the picnics and Sunday afternoons.
In the winter, they lived in Florida, and for the summer, they traveled to Connecticut. Several years ago, they started slowing down, so the condo was sold, and they moved north full-time.
Over the past few months, he declined quickly, and he passed away on Wednesday, December 10th.
There were calling hours and a service at the family funeral home where he worked, and he was interred with military honors at the cemetery in the family plot. His son-in-law and two granddaughters gave eulogies, and as they spoke, I remembered the man he was. He always had a smile on his face, was quick with a joke, loved to push people in the pool, and was happy to talk to you. He lived a long and full life. ❤️
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 