In Gratitude

We would like all of you to know what you have meant to us during this time in our life. In the death of my father-in-law we found untold life. To those of you who were able to be with us for the wake, we thank you in a special way. To those of you who attended the funeral service, we thank you in a special way. To those of you who sent and spoke words of encouragement, we thank you in a special way. Masses will be said in our home during the next year so we who benefitted so much from his life will keep alive that part of us enriched by him. Through these Masses we will not be mourning his death, but celebrating that part of his life that remains within us. For all these we sincerely thank you.

Dad passed away on Saturday, May 10, at 5:30 AM, after suffering a stroke just one and one half weeks before. His death was the finest gift he could have given us. We suffered only briefly the sight of a loved one in pain. He had spent the last year and two months in the Lutheran Home and Service for the Aged in Arlington Heights. Because of the dignity given the residents there, he thought of this as his home shared with many friends, not just a place to live out his life. He worked in the craft shop making pencil holders which sold faster than he could produce them, and helped the home out by maintaining the pop machines. So he not only lived there, he worked there and helped to make it a finer place for the others.

He was waked on May 12, in the chapel on the 2nd floor of his home. The night brought all life's teaching into sharp focus.

There was death before them—his grandchildren who viewed it for the first time, with shock initially, then resignation, then joy because death had freed Grandpa from the cage in which his stroke had captured him.

There was death before them — the other residents most of them older than Dad. They walked up to the casket and said good-bye to their friend, then left to wait their turn with peaceful anticipation. Their steps up to the casket were not marked with the hesitancy of the young.

There was death before them — his remaining relatives who were blessed to know a different man in death than they perhaps knew in life. A man with friends who loved, respected and would miss him. They could treasure his memory as a man who finally found joy, happiness, and now knew peace.

There was death before them — a stranger to them in his death as he was a stranger to them in his life; these were our friends. Friends who had forsaken what was important to them in favor of what would be important to us.

There was death — calling forth life — and our memory will not be clouded with sadness, but filled with the goodness of all these people.

On May 10, a man left behind the possessions of one life to travel unencumbered into the joy of another. He took with him the chocolate Easter bunnies, the poinsettias on Christmas, the trips to Kiddyland and the cold pop from `his' pop machine on those Sunday afternoons.

He left behind:

a family who learned about the beauty of growing older
through him and the friends he shared with them;

friends who would miss the kindness and joy he brought;

the promises of a day to day existence;

and traveled to his Lord
who gave him a world without end.

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