A Eulogy for an Unforgettable Man

Best friends from the start

I read the below eulogy exactly two weeks ago to a room filled with family and friends. It is truly a celebration of the most influential man in my life; a man who loved his family with such reckless abandon. John “Jack” Whitney – or Pops as me and my cousins referred to him – lived a simple life devoted entirely to his family. He had an amazing sense of adventure, a deep appreciation for music, and was his grandchildren’s biggest cheerleaders.

 

These last few weeks have been strange (to say the least) and I’ve been forced to grieve in the privacy and confines of my own house. It’s not how I imagined grieving this great loss but it’s given me an opportunity to pause and sit with the grief as it transforms (and transforms me). There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t miss him. Some days, it’s a lovely memory that reminds me his love is never too far. Other days, it’s the deep ache of loss that burrows deep within my heart.

To the very end.

During the last week of his life I spent every single evening with him. I rubbed his head and neck, held his hand in comfort, played music, and recounted some of our favorite memories. He made me laugh, he made me cry. We talked about my testimony at the state capitol and he worried about how I was going to afford my insulin (one of the last things he said to me). He made me promise to keep giving those legislators hell. On his very last day, he still requested kisses; ones I didn’t know needed to last forever.

Each of those moments I’ll carry with me forever.

This eulogy was written for my family and the close-knit group of friends he kept. There are a lot of inside jokes below that speak to his constant ability to make us laugh. If anything doesn’t make sense- ask me. I’ll take any chance I can to talk more about this unforgettable man. Any chance to keep his memory alive:

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I first want to thank everyone on behalf of my family for being here.

We are so thankful to have so many people celebrating the life of my beloved Pops. Writing this eulogy is the best way I can think of honoring him today, so thank you for joining me as I remember him the best I can.

I think it would be inappropriate to start this off any other way than with a joke:

What time do you go to the dentist? Tooth-hurty.

That was one of Pops’ greatest hits. I like to think of him as the originator of “Papa joke,” the jokes that always elicited a light groan but nevertheless left you smiling and hoping for another.

After everything that happened to get here, I think he was more excited than me for this graduation.

Jack, Papa or Pops was the patriarch of our family and the start of the never-ending “John” trend. So many members of our family have the great honor of being named after this amazing man. And if that wasn’t good enough for our family, well, then the women went out and found their own Johns. Since naming me John was out of the question, I decided on the next best thing – adding Whitney to my last name.

In so many ways, I chose to add that name to honor the man who’s been my best friend since day one. The man who stepped in as a father figure during my teens and the man who was never shy with his “I love yous.” For so long I wanted to honor the man who had been with me every single step of my journey and I couldn’t think of a better way to carry him and my family with me forever.

There are a lot of things I could say about Pops. He was an incredibly hard worker, working at Carpenter Steel for over 30 years to provide for his family. I could also talk about his love of music, bowling or playing pinochle. But the one thing that ties all of this together is his undying and unending love for his family.

See? My biggest cheerleader.

No one loved their family as much as Pops. He was never afraid to tell us how much he loved us. He was our biggest cheerleader– he showed up at every game, 10-hour dance recital, first communion or play that his grandchildren were in. Some of you may know that when I announced I was going to California to do a year of service; Pops was absolutely furious with me. He was worried about my health, he was worried about my safety, he was worried about a million different things. Throughout my time in California, I started blogging about my experience. Both Nana and Pops would periodically tell me that they read it. However, it wasn’t until I posted a speech I gave about how much the experience had meant to me that Pops told me how he really felt. He told me just how proud he was and how happy he was that I went to California. Fast forward to a few weeks ago and as we were sorting through some of his belongings, we uncovered a file that him and Nana kept of every piece of writing I had ever written. Everything from my dinky little blog to my more recent published works. I will so sorely miss him cheerleading me from the sidelines of my life, my biggest fan.

I think everyone from the family will forever remember Pops’ “slippery pants.” These shiny blue track pants allowed each and every grandchild to slide down his leg with glee for hours at a time and probably at the expense of his knees. This tradition started with his first grandchild Karen and continued for 37 years with the birth of his great grandchild Billy, who he absolutely adored. He always loved warming up hugs and kisses for each of us.

In California.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the love he had for his wife of 62 years, Pat, or more fondly known as “Pergus.” I am not exaggerating when I say that she is the love of his life. Nana was Pops first and only girlfriend. Impressed by Nana’s ice skates artfully swung over her shoulder, Pops decided that she was the woman he was going to marry. Unbeknownst to him, she had no idea how to skate and had borrowed these skates from one of her friends for the sole purpose of nabbing Pops because, as she put it, she hated the cold but knew she wanted him.

This story provided plenty of laughs and much comfort during Pops last week of life. Even on his final day on this Earth, when words failed him, he pointed to his cheek to get the kisses he so cherished from his sweetie.

I am so honored to have accompanied my grandfather these last two years since he moved to Connecticut and most especially the last few weeks of his life. Alzheimer’s can be a tough and trying disease but through it all, this man wanted to ensure each of us knew how much we were loved and worked double-time to make us laugh.

As I was going through his old yearbook, I found a quote that sums up his humorous disposition:

“One of the boys… he’ll fire a joke when your defenses are down and the world starts looking better”

My favorite dance partner

I can’t think of a better way to sum up what his laughter meant to me, meant to all of us. Through every difficult and challenging moment he fought to bring a genuine smile to our faces. And 9 out of 10 times he succeeded- mostly because his own laugh was so contagious. He taught me to laugh at myself, not take the world so seriously, and the importance of laughing at our own jokes.

During his last week, all I could think about was how I wasn’t ready to lose his laugh, his caring spirit, his unending love. I don’t think any of us are, nor will be. He will be missed so damn much. But I can’t help but think how lucky we are to have a person we are not only here to grieve but someone who we deserve to celebrate. He’s an amazing man that has the chance to live on in each of us — in our name, in how we choose to love our family, in how we show up for one another and how we find the humor in every situation. Personally, I choose to carry his spirit in my fight for insulin — something he was worried about even up until the end. But just like you told me Pops, I promise to keep givin’ em hell.

As we continue on with Pops forever in our hearts and in our spirits, I know through time we’ll all be s’alright (s’ok) if we make this journey together.

And Pops, since you got there first, I’ll let you make the mark. And when I get there, I promise to erase it.