Eulogies: True Lessons for Personal Growth

A relatively new feature of my life is that at almost 79, I’ve gone to many more funerals for classmates, friends and family in the last ten years. I asked myself when is this going to stop? The answer is that it isn’t. The older you get, the more of it you’re going to see. Until it’s our turn!

My book, It’s a Matter of Life and Death: Growing Up in a Funeral Home and What I Learned Since, in spite of its title, is really a happiness and self-help book, emphasizing how to truly value life, what I learned growing up in a funeral home and how it can help others when loss of a loved one or friend strikes.

One of the sections, “Eulogies Can Be Great Teachers”, talks about eulogies and the unparalleled and highly motivating learning experiences they can be for finding real success and happiness in life. It appears below, augmented by some recent additions:

Have you ever heard anyone in a eulogy going on and on about how much money someone had, how many homes they had or how beautiful their outfits and jewelry were? What gets emphasized are not those things, but what really counts: the kind of mother and father the deceased was, how he was a friend who helped those in need, how she took care of her parents and her siblings, how they were ready to lend a hand to anyone and to their community, how they inspired others, how ethical they were in business and in life, how trustworthy they were, the humorous stories and phrases that were them, and how that person made a real difference in the lives of others. Strong models for those of us who remain to aspire to.

Not everyone wants a eulogy. My dear friend Maria said her father-in-law didn’t want his past life told at the funeral. He said, “Bury me. I lived my life, go live yours.” Excellent advice for everyone, especially for those who mourn to the point that they don’t live their remaining life in the fullest way, not only for their benefit, but for the benefit of others.

I attended a funeral luncheon where several men stood up and said how Herb, a quiet, unassuming and humble man, who had just been buried at a local cemetery had made such a difference in their lives, some of them being completely turned around to march in a new and far better direction. What a wonderful legacy to leave. We might ask how we might be able to leave a similar one.

A ninety-five year old physician, the father of one of my Gloucester Catholic classmates Frank, and beloved by his family and community, died recently. He was a model man having served in the US Navy and, for many decades, as a community and industrial physician, football team doctor, and caring health care provider to many nuns and priests in “The Holy City” of Gloucester City, New Jersey. A number of my classmates, now nearing eighty, had him for their childhood physician.

His oldest grandson gave him a wonderful tribute: “We treasure the times we learned from him. He reminded me of a Norman Rockwell painting. He was good, holy and honorable. The legacy of those who pass is in our hands now.” And so it is for all of us. How will we do, following the good example of those who have gone ahead of us, setting an example for those who follow us?

To emulate the good that exceptional men and women have done, is quite a charge. We might not be able to imitate it or match it in our business and personal lives. But the important thing is that we use it as a springboard and motivator to become our best selves.

As I was driving away from the church, many of those attending the doctor’s Mass were standing outside. I drove past a man crossing Monmouth Street holding the hands of who appeared to be his two small grandchildren. I heard him say, “He must have known a lot of people.” He did. And he was good to all of them. That’s why so many people came to pay their respects. Those in their nineties typically have very small turnouts for fairly obvious reasons. A virtually full church here was a striking exception - and everyone knew why.

My classmate Bob was a dynamic person and a gifted contractor. He restored historic buildings and made a real impact every place he went, personally and professionally. At his funeral luncheon, over thirty people stood up and commented about the quality of his work and his dedication to his wife and family, and just the super guy he was. Bob and I ran what is now “the 400” in high school. Luckily, he never beat me - although a whole lot of others did! He wrote on my yearbook picture, “I’ll catch your skinny ass someday.” He didn’t do that, but he far surpassed me in many other ways, including beating me out for a lead in “Bye,Bye Birdie”, by being a highly successful entrepreneur, a true example of craftsmanship for all who knew him and loving husband with an unparalleled sense of humor. Bob was a true friend to everyone who knew him.

When I was about ten years old, my father hired Jack Marinella as an apprentice funeral director. Jack was the brother I never had, to go along with my exemplary sister Marianne, now a caring hospital chaplain in Michigan. Jack was everything a good brother would be. I forever value his kindness to me growing up which I detailed in my book. He established Marinella Funeral Home in Hammonton, New Jersey. Jack died right before Christmas in 2022. His funeral was Christmas Eve Day. His two eulogies highlighted his true concern for the families he served, his love for his wife and family and his long and generous support of his parish and his community. Jack knew where he came from and didn’t miss the opportunity to be there for others - another good example to follow.

The following month, my classmate Trish died. Her funeral was New Year’s Eve Day. Her loving husband Bob, who showed great kindness to me, pre-deceased her five years prior. Trish conducted a Grief Counseling group for over twenty years. ( I listed many suggestions she gave me for dealing with grief in my book, so her good advice lives on.) She was a spark of life and good humor every place she went. I can still hear her hearty laugh. She donated a window for her husband and family in the church where they had her funeral Mass. The celebrant, who grew up with her son, pointed to it during her eulogy. Trish died on Christmas Day, in her daughter and son-in-law’s home, concerned that she might put a damper on her grandchildren’s Christmas. That was Trish - others first, me next.

Our classmate John worked for several major corporations. He left to pursue a career in education, serving as a long-term principal in a Catholic elementary school. He had an immeasurable impact on the lives of hundreds of students. I’m very glad that I told him several times how fortunate the school was to have a man of his character there.

He was a loving and faithful husband for over fifty years. In a true outpouring of love, his son and daughter eulogized him as a tremendous role model, as well as a man of great sensitivity. John was a big guy and former lineman. Friendly and direct. A man who could get your attention. His daughter said in her eulogy when she was young, he used to sing “Daddy’s Little Girl “ to her at bedtime. Who does that? John did. His children, and those in his school, long remember his strength, support and sensitivity.

Donna, a classmate a year ahead of me who barely knew me, died this year. Her obituary listed so many good and caring things she did for others that I felt impelled to go to her funeral. Her grateful son Scott gave a beautiful eulogy highlighting her strength and concern for others, even though she had been dealt a cruel personal and financial blow losing her husband in his thirties leaving her to raise multiple young children, which she did with grace and a lot of hard work. Sometimes we even surprise ourselves by how we can respond to difficult, unexpected circumstances and set a high standard for others to follow as Donna did.

Stephen Covey in his New York Times best seller, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, suggests that we should write our own eulogy - what we would want speakers to say about us after we’re gone - then use those thoughts as a guide for our own life. It surely would produce many improved eulogies in the future - and clear markers for others in finding happiness and success in their personal and business lives.

The next time you attend a funeral service, pay careful attention to the eulogist’s words. A life well-lived, and well-described, can provide important guidance for us as we move forward with our own lives.

I’ve been privileged to have done the eulogies for my mother in 1988 and for my father in 2001. Their lives made that part easy because they were both charitable and caring people and exemplary parents to my sister and me. The other part, knowing that you are saying good-bye to a loved one is never easy. You may have had, or will have, an opportunity to give a eulogy someday. Think of it as an opportunity to underscore a life well-lived and as an inspiration to those in attendance to follow the good example they set, to improve the lives of those around them.

***(Please see my subsequent posts:

• Eulogies: True Lessons for Personal Growth - Part 2
• Eulogy for Paul