The day that my Dad died, a good friend of mine (who had also lost his Dad a few years back) emailed me this message. I often think of it and find it to be true: “Over time there will be less grief and more gratitude for the privilege of having a great Dad in the first place.”

So many years later, over thirty, I still can hear me Dad’s voice, his sense of humor, his wise counsel. I know what he would think about given situations.

There are many things I would love to share with him, most of all the men in my life. But, I have made a point to share him with my boys and I can’t help but think he knows them too.

And by the way, even though I lost my Dad and my Mom has Alzheimer’s, I still have not grown-up!

When my mother died, my best friend sent me a poem about losing a parent, which included a line about “no one standing between you and the abyss.” For me, the abyss *is* life without my mother. And still, I forget so often that I am that person to the little guys who share my home and my life. Thanks for the reminder and the beautiful piece.

And commenter KLove: beautiful eulogy. Clearly he was deeply loved.

Caryn

On behalf of our dear mother Karin, my sister Frances, my brother Richard and the brother and sisters of Rolf Wankel ~ thank you all for being here with us today as we mourn his passing within the sanctuary of this beautiful church in the Valley of the Moon.
As his first daughter, I am here to express what his loss means to us. Quite simply: we have lost our compass.
We have loved him as a husband, father, grandfather, brother, father-in-law, uncle and friend. From his parents of long ago, he received inspiration which he passed on to all of us. His arms and heart were always wide open to us. He gave us strength in times of trouble, wisdom in times of uncertainty, and sharing in times of happiness. He was always accessible and always by our side. He enriched our days.
He was a wonderful man, although by his own admission, at times stubborn and quick tempered. However his loved and was devoted to us, his family above all else.
He loved us even when as teenagers and young adults, we sometimes made it hard. Our awareness of this over the years has served as a source of strength. He taught us that real love is something unselfish and involves sacrifice and giving even on the days one feels least compelled to give it.
He was an intellectual and emotional source. Our family dinner table was always the center of great discussions and heated debates. He was very talkative, friendly, outgoing – a man who loved to laugh out loud and have a good time.
He taught us kindness and humanity. He made us gently aware. He was always there for people who struggled, were poor and needed help. He cared deeply for those less able in body and mind that needed our understanding and patience.
Through no virtues and accomplishments of our own, we have been fortunate to live in the United States under the most comfortable conditions. This was not always the case for dad during his own childhood. He grew up in a time of war, uncertainty and fear. Yet though his experiences were the kind of stories you read about in novels, he rarely mentioned them. His motto was always, “what’s the difference?” He, like the writer Max Ehrmann who penned Desiderata, believed you must always strive to be happy.
He loved life completely.
For the fortunate among us, there is the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who enjoy the privilege of education. But this was not an easy path for my mother and father. They emigrated from Europe following World War II. Theirs was a meeting in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, aboard the M.S. Nelly, where they fell in love on a voyage to Canada. They were open and adventurous to the creative energy of men and women seeking a better life. Ultimately, their travels took them to their beloved California where they are among a handful of family members who ventured away from the familiarity of language, culture and loved ones left behind in Europe.
Though the future did lie beyond their vision, it was not completely beyond their control. It was dad’s belief in American ideals that neither fate, nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of his own hands, mind and heart, that determined his and mom’s and our family’s history. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. It is the way his own inner compass guided him.
When asked just a few days ago what he was most proud of, his reply was immediate. “My loving family. I was able to provide for all of you to the best of my abilities, and I was able to save to share and live a wonderful retirement with mommy and Ricky.”
At the end of his life it was terror of pain that dominated his days. Yet he never gave in completely. He was very brave. As one of his doctors told us, “he endured everything his failing body would throw at him.” He so wanted to continue to live even enjoying a glass of wine on the last night of his life.
Our dad is not to be idealized or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life. We want to remember him as a good man, wonderful husband, loving father, best of friends – one who always looked out for others.
Dad – we all know it was time to let you go to a better place, free of pain. You gave us so much!
We pray as we take you to your final resting place today that what you are to us, and what you wished for others, will be remembered. We hope to always keep your memory alive by paying forward the lessons you taught us.