The other day I did something that initially seemed impossible.  I gave my father’s eulogy.  Losing Dad is a pain I can’t describe. We all loved him very much. And nothing will ever be the same without him.  I took great care to craft a eulogy that honored him honestly. I think I did okay. Below are the words I shared at his funeral this past Tuesday.  My hope in sharing them here is that his memory will live on. And that other’s who loved him might have a place to come to from time to time to reflect on this great man’s life.

April 2, 2019

Thank you all for joining us this afternoon to remember Dad. For those of you
who don’t know me, I’m Michele, John’s oldest and wisest daughter. And for
those of you who do know me…well, you know that only half that statement is
true.
It’s comforting to look out and see so many faces. I know my Dad would be
touched that you all took time out of your day to join us in honoring his life. As
many of you know, Dad had been sick for a while. He went into the hospital last
July and never came home. He fought hard over these past 8 months. There were
many times when we thought for sure he’d pull through. That fighting spirit was
evident. But inevitably, the battle became too much. His time had come. And, for
as difficult as it was for Barb, Dan, Julie, Jonas and I to endure, he passed away
with all of us by his side.
I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say today…there are many ways I
could describe my father. But of all the various stories that coursed through my
mind over these past few days, there was one steady thread…a constant theme
that kept emerging. And that theme is joy.
I imagine there’s not one person in this room today who hasn’t laughed with my
Dad at some point. Laughter defined him. Even if that meant he was the only one
laughing…I mean, not everyone shares his affinity for a Rodney Dangerfield Joke.
Actually, It’s impossible to think about Dad without envisioning him doing a
Rodney Dangerfield impression: This one comes to mind:
“When I was a kid I got no respect. No respect at all. One time I was lost at the
beach and a cop helped me look for my parents. I looked up at the cop and said:
“Do you think we’ll find them? And the cop said “I don’t know Kid. There are so
many places they can hide. No respect.”

My apologies for the horrible impersonation. Although, let’s be honest…is there really such a thing as a good Rodney Dangerfield impersonation? Sorry, Dad…

My greatest memories of Dad will always be the times shared gathering with our
family. I feel incredibly grateful to have been given the gift of so many wonderful
moments. From times at the Outer Banks, to family dinners and celebrations…to
countless holidays…to my many weddings (grin)…..there was always laughter.

How lucky are we? I always knew there was something special about our family. The
way we can gather together and genuinely enjoy each other’s company. There’s
no drama…just love, laughter…and a lot of shooting the breeze.
My Dad’s humor was unique. He was quick-witted. If you were meeting him for
the first time, it wouldn’t take long for you to realize the guy had a great sense of
humor. There was much more to his repertoire than Rodney Dangerfield jokes,
however. He loved Mel Brooks too. Blazing Saddles was one of my Dad’s favorite
movies. It’s not for everyone. But everyone who knew him knew he LOVED that
movie………….And that sound that you may have just heard emanating from up
front was the sound of Barb’s eye roll hitting the floor. She was tortured by that
movie one too many times.
He also loved the movie Diner. How could he not? Dad grew up in York in the
50’s. For those of you who don’t know, Diner takes place in 1959 and is about a
group of high school friends from Baltimore. I remember Dad telling me about the
movie…and how it reminded him of his youth. The way the guys would hang at
the diner, talk about the Baltimore Colts, talk about their recent shenanigans and
generally do what guys do best — shoot the breeze.

Growing up in York in the 50’s, Dad had no choice but to become a huge Baltimore Colts fan. I can remember Sunday afternoons in my early childhood when my Dad would pace
the living room floor while the Colts did what they seemed to do best: lose.
Despite their horrible record, Dad loved the Colts. He was loyal like that. That
is…until 1984 when they broke his heart and moved quietly out of Baltimore
under the cover of darkness. Fortunately, however, by that time, Dad was living
in Western PA…so it wasn’t long before he began bleeding black and gold. My
Dad spent the rest of his life devoted to the Pittsburgh Steelers, it was by far one
of his greatest passions.
But his passions didn’t begin and end with sports. My Dad was a lifelong proud
member of the democratic party. Politics was one of his favorite topics for
discussion. His character was shaped by some of the values that define that
party: compassion for the underserved, social consciousness, providing a safety
net for those in need, those values and virtues were instilled in him at a young
age, and they stuck with him throughout his life. In no small way, my Dad’s liberal leanings inspired my own desire to become an active volunteer in my local
democratic party.
I have so many memories of us sitting around talking about our hopes and our
concerns for this country. I can remember sitting under an umbrella on the beach
in the Outer Banks many years ago. It was happy hour, the air was warm…we
both had a beer in our hand…and our feet in the sand…and we were discussing
the promise we saw in this young man named Barack Obama. My Dad spoke of
Obama in the way many of his generation would talk about Kennedy. My dad’s
opinions and leanings were clear…he didn’t mince words – which is one of the
many things I loved most about him. He was a great storyteller. He had this way
of saying things that would stick with you. He was persuasive.
For example, my dear friend Jen texted me the other morning to share a story she
remembered about Dad. She and her husband had joined us at the Outer Banks
during our first trip there. Abby was just a baby. Jen reminded me of one night
during that trip when a bunch of us, including my Dad, were chilling in the hot
tub. She said that she never forgot how passionately my Dad encouraged her and
her husband to have children. They didn’t have kids at the time and weren’t sure they wanted to. His exact words to them were, “There are too many dopes
in this world. Good people like you should definitely have kids.” She told me it
made an impact on her and she never forgot it.
That was my Dad. He had a way of using humor to get through. He was straight-forward, charming and funny. And I will miss that most about him every day.

It’s hard to imagine a vacation without him. He loved the beach — another virtue
he passed down to me and my siblings. We’re happiest with our feet in the sand
and a drink in our hand, surrounded by the people we love most. His absence will
be felt in every family gathering from now to the end of our days, but we’ll always
have our memories…and I know we’ll relive them time and again. It will be
impossible to hear a Beatles or John Prine song and not think of Dad. His love for
music provides us with the perfect soundtrack to so many of our cherished
memories.
My Dad loved his family dearly. I walk comfortably through this life knowing
beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved me. And I know this because he
showed me and he told me often. But I am most proud of giving him the extraordinary gift of being Abby’s Bopa. He adored Abby…and carried such pride
in being a grandfather. I can still remember what he said to me when I called to
tell him that I was pregnant. Barb and Dan were in London for a school-sponsored
trip, because they’re fancy like that…and it was just him and Julie at home. His voice was beaming through the phone and he said “I love you, sweetie. You’re going to be a great mom.”

I could instantly tell he was genuinely proud and so happy…in fact, I later learned that
when we hung up the phone that day he made it clear to Julie that HE gets to be
the one to announce the news to Barb and Dan when they return home…He said
something to the effect of “I’m the grandpa so I get to share the news.”

Even though I didn’t spend a good bit of my childhood with my father, I always
felt very connected to him. I look like him, I share his love of laughter, and I carry
to some degree, that quintessential Loeper “laid back” personality. Which can be
both a blessing and a curse.
The other day Barb shared with me a letter that she found while sorting through a
box of old photos. It was a letter I had written to Dad in June of 1989. I would
have been just 20 years old. He was living in Waynesburg at the time, and I was
living in York with my mother. I have no memory of writing it. But when I read it
the other night, it brought tears to my eyes. It summed up perfectly so many of
the feelings I have for my Dad today. So, I’d like to wrap up by sharing that letter with you now:

June 10, 1989

Dear Dad, 

Even though I am not with you, I still feel very close to you. Maybe I’ve never told you this before, but I admire you so much for the things you’ve accomplished in your life. 

When looking ahead, I always use you as a role model. I’ve never really been able to look up to Mom, we just don’t seem to meet eye-to-eye on too many things. But I’ve always been able to say, “I want to to be as happy and successful as my father.”  You have a great job that you love, a terrific, loving wife and three children who love you a great deal. 

I often wish I could sit down and tell Danny and Julie how lucky they are to have a father like you. But I’m sure as they grow they will realize for themselves, as did I, that you are the greatest thing that could ever be in someone’s life. 

I love you Dad.