Raymond's Eulogy

DAD

On behalf of our family, I want to welcome all of you as we celebrate the life of our father and say our final goodbyes. Your presence here today buoys our collective hearts for the man we all loved, and I am sure, he would be humbled and deeply honored by your outpouring of affections.

Our Dad was an amazing man. He had an indomitable spirit, infused with an iron will, but tempered by a tender heart and by his easy disposition. Even to his last breath, he fought like hell. A stubborn, feisty Irishman to the end. But at his core, laid a family man who loved his children and his children’s children. He consumed life and lived to the fullest.

His life was forever altered one summer day long ago by a chance meeting with a cute girl named “Tessie” at the shore in Cape May, New Jersey. As he would often say about our Mom, “I met her as a teenager, and she became my lovely wife and the mother of our children. She was a great, great lady.” And so it began, a love story made in heaven. As fate would have it, that very weekend that our Dad met our mother, her own father had passed away.

Our father would regale us of stories of his courtship with our Mom. Our Mother was the youngest in her family, having four older, very protective brothers. One night our Dad came to their house for a date and upon entering, he heard our Mother’s brother Eb’s booming voice from downstairs, “where’s that son of a bitch that’s dating my sister?” Later that night, he would prove his metal to her brothers by holding his own in their dart matches, and of course, his wonderful wit. In fact, he loved all of her brothers- Eb for his honesty, Jimmy for his kindness, Jiggs for his generosity, and Ray for his golden heart.

My Mom and her brother Ray were the closest in age in their family and naturally remained very close throughout their lives. As teenagers, they would get dates for one another, go to dances together, and when our father entered the picture, our Uncle Ray and Aunt Jean and our Mom and Dad often would double-date, play cards, and have a lot of fun together. As they each raised their families, their lives became forever intertwined. Our father revered Ray. As I speak today, we ask our Dear Lord to watch over our beloved Uncle Ray who is very ill.

Our Dad was especially close to our Mom’s mom. She had lived with them for many years. Our Mother would recall the story when they were first dating, when her Mom would say to her, “I saw that handsome Vince Regan at Mass today going to communion.” Our Mom would roll her eyes while our father’s mischievous look on his face said it all. That summer our Dad had returned from the war and was three years older than our Mom. Ex-servicemen could still collect paychecks from Uncle Sam for acclimating themselves to civilian life. Being an incorrigible young man with money in his pocket to burn, he would be out late on Saturday nights going to dances and raising a little hell. Many a Sunday morning, attending mass was a chore. Our mother had him pegged from the beginning. Nonetheless, she loved the rascal in him.

As our family grew, an understatement if there ever was one, our Mom and Dad’s love for one another deepened. Our Dad simply adored her and he showed it for all the world to see. Through our childhood eyes up through to the day our mother died, he greeted her each morning like it was his last and kissed her in the evening, so thankful to be in her arms. On the few occasions where our Mom became frustrated with us, our Dad would step in and scold us all by saying, “You upset my wife”. He made it known in no uncertain terms, she was his wife first and a mother second. Even at our Mom’s funeral, he seemed to summon an inner strength standing resolute and regal beside her because that’s what his ‘Tessie’ would want of her man.

Life at the Regan’s residence was poetry in motion. Our Jamestown house was a 100 year old majestic brick house that had a back stairwell running from the kitchen all the way up to the third floor where we older boys slept. On a typical weekday, our Mom would yell up to the kids through the back stairwell to wake them for school - the stairwell serving as a natural amplifier. Slowly by surely, we would all stumble down and lay in front of the gas fireplace in the dining room. At the table, she would serve all of us tea and toast. The pace at which she prepared and accurately flung the toast in front of each of us would put to shame any major league pitcher of today. Her toast control was legendary.

Once the kids were taken care of, you would hear her yell up to our father to get up for work. “Vince, it's 7:30, Vince, it's 7:45, get up, you are going to be late” she would say. Our Dad loved to sleep. Some of his children are blessed with the same sensibilities. Our Dad would eventually come down to the kitchen in his suit and tie, kiss our Mom sweetly, and drink his coffee. His affable nature on display as sure as the sun rises each morning.

But when a summer day rolled in on a weekend, our Dad was ready for his golf. There would be no need for our Mom to yell up to our Dad on a Saturday. Our Mother would be up at the crack of dawn, doing her daily chores, and she would walk into their bedroom, and see our father, already out of bed- now picture this- our Dad standing in his boxers, peering out the window, judging the weather of the day with his skinny legs sticking out. [God love him] He would say to her, “Tessie, is it supposed to rain to today”. She reassured him that the storm would blow over. She knew what a sociable creature he was and how much he enjoyed getting out in the fresh air and having fun.

Our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were sights to behold. All the older kids were home from college and the younger ones were finally of age. Love permeated the air in that dining room of ours. Grace was said. Our Mom and Dad sat at either end of the table with all the kids somehow in their proper seats. You had to be quick. Plates of turkey, potatoes, and vegetables going every which way, all the while, dinner rolls were zooming by in the direction of the loudest voice. Spilled milk was a given. In the kitchen, you could hear our Dad with the electric knife carving up the bird like a conductor leading his orchestra. You marveled at his cutting craftsmanship. Mom had the coffee and tea flowing in anticipation for the games to begin.

Our family loved playing games after these special dinners. You name it, we played it. Facts in five, jeopardy, trivial pursuit… Our Dad and our brother Vincey were usually the pre-tournament favorites, their love of books and knowledge coming to the forefront quickly. You were in awe of their prowess as their intellectual jousts unfolded. Soon other siblings entered the fray, giving them a run for their money. Sometimes arguments ensued but good times and laughter ruled the day. [God, how beautiful those days were.]

The root of the love of games was our Dad’s playful nature. He possessed an almost childlike imagination about things and life. The older kids in our family can attest to the famous Mr. McGillicuddy, a figment of his mind that lived up in front hallway’s light fixture in our house in Levittown. As we greeted our Dad at the door upon his return from work, he would reach up to the fixture and say, “ how have the kiddies been today, Mr. McGillicuddy?” Magically, as he lowered his arms, out came all of this candy raining down from Mr. McGillicuddy’s house. We were starry eyes.

When our brother David was born, our Dad was driving back from the hospital with his girls, Teresa and Patsy, where on the spot they all started singing a made-up song about our brother to the tune from the old Davy Crockett show. [sing- Davey, Davey Regan….] Just picture the three of them driving down the road singing and laughing at the joy of the moment. He loved his babies. He knew what children wanted. On many a Christmas day, you would find a special gift under the tree with a silly greeting from Santa, Rudolph, or whoever in our father’s distinctive handwriting. To this day, his children continue such an endearing tradition.

Our father had a very tender side to him as well. When Teresa was in the hospital for two weeks as a young girl for tests on her thyroid, and our mother being home with the kids, every night after work, our father would arrive at the hospital to comfort his daughter. When our brother Vince was very sick, our Dad was down at their West Virginia home when he received emergency call from his employer to come back to their corporate headquarters in Jamestown. Being the practical man, he negotiated with his employer to fly him back to Jamestown on the company jet, bringing along Vincey and Liz’s girls and our sister Pat and returning them to WV after the weekend. There were other countless trips to the hospital in Jamestown for various broken bones, stitches, and whatnot, that you would think the management at the hospital contemplated giving him a permanent parking space there.

From a child’s perspective, the sight of our Dad sitting in our living room every night reading his books was a comforting feeling. The range of his interests was as wide as the oceans. [Mitchner, Isaac Asimov, the Flashman books, the Harry Potter series, you name it, he read it]. There would be kids running all around, watching TV or up to some no good, there sat our Dad calmly reading, escaping with his incredible mind. On one occasion, my brothers and I were playing with dart guns with rubber tip darts. We all bet our brother Dave that he could not hit the tip of our Dad’s cigarette with the dart. So from the hallway in our house, around five yards in distance to our Dad’s chair, Dave took aim and fired. It was the funniest damn thing. With the precision of a marksman, the dart clipped our Dad’s ash. Our Dad jumped up, “what the hell is going on?” We all scrambled like rats, giggling all the way.

The benefits of our Dad’s love of reading had no bounds. On school nights, we all would utilize his skills for homework. However, the risk was you never got the book back. “Dad, I have to go to bed, can I have my history book back?” we would say. Even as adults, we consulted him on speeches we needed to make for school or work, and he would sit down and write a draft speech for us. His writing was beautiful. As our Dad progressed with his career, he decided he would teach accounting at our local community college. Being an articulate and social man, he enjoyed helping his students. In retirement, our Dad never had to buy a book. The books came to him in the form of gifts, a befitting honor accorded a literary man.

From his own life experience, our Dad found and knew the value of education. Education transformed his life. He took full advantage of the GI bill afforded returning serviceman. At the time our Dad graduated from his beloved Villanova University, he was married with two children, worked constantly at night driving a taxi in Philly while being a student during the day. It was a given in our household that each of the children would go to college. He demanded it from us. Our mother supported his thinking all the way. That was the proudest accomplishment of his lifetime in his mind. All of his children attained their college degrees.

Our Dad was a self-made man. He was a man of honor having crafted a remarkable career through his hard work and integrity. Our family could never remember a day when he missed work. His colleagues and business associates admired his business acumen. His business adversaries respected his negotiation skills. In our household, he exacted personal effort and honesty from each of us as he demonstrated it daily through his own actions.

Our brother Bob tells the story of the time when as a little league coach in baseball, our Dad literally traded away Bobby to another team to avoid even the slightest perception of nepotism. I, personally, felt my Dad’s wrath as a young boy. I had stolen some things from various stores for the purpose of birthday gifts for my brothers and sisters born in the month of November. We have a lot of birthdays in November. I hid the items in the back of my closet. Of course, my mother found the ill-gotten gifts. Who ever heard of fall cleaning? Our Mom was such a hawk.

Our Mom proceeded to tell our Dad upon his return from work that night. Our Mom always brought in our Dad to speak to us when our actions were beyond the norm. Our house in Pennsylvania was small and you could hear everything from the steps. I remember over-hearing her explaining my thefts to my Dad. Ever the sweet soul, our Mom said at least I had my heart in the right place. Our Dad would hear none of it. He proceeded to take me to each store, walked me up to each store manager, and demanded I tell each of them what I had done and required me to hand over all the stolen merchandise. When my Dad and I had gotten home, he said in front our whole family at the dinner table, “ Raymond, go up to your room, you do not deserve to sit at this dinner table tonight.” To this day, that episode and its morality about honesty stick with me and my siblings.

Our family and friends all know and love the keen sense of humor our Dad had. Whether at home, at the Elks Lodge, on the golf course, or a card game, our Dad had an incredible wit about him. His humor was sometimes biting, and sometimes, just plain hilarious. Our brother Matt recalled the time when he lost his temper in our living room in Jamestown when the Phillies blew the lead in late innings and lost the game. Matt proceeded to lose it, throwing things around the room. Our Mom promptly yells out to our Dad, “say something Vince, he’s your son”. Our Dad responded, “Tessie, I lay no claim to an asshole.”

Our Dad loved his sports. He was a man’s man. From stickball and baseball as a kid to darts, golf and pool as an adult, he loved to compete and have fun playing. Watching him hit ground balls to little league teams as a coach was a thing of beauty. He had amazing eye-hand coordination. You would see that in him as a batter in baseball, in darts and playing pool. As a father, he always took us boys to baseball games and Villanova basketball games. I remember my brothers Vince, Bobby, and I going with our Dad to a Phillies/Mets game in New York. It was bat day at the stadium where each child with an adult got a free bat upon entering the stadium. Our father quickly deducing the situation, strategically situated Bobbie and I with two guys in line behind us. As we entered the stadium, each of us was holding a brand new Louisville sluggers. We were in heaven.

Our Dad loved his friends. Throughout his life, whether in Philly, Jamestown, or Raleigh, he had a social grace about him. He was such a gregarious man and probably his Irish upbringing had much to do with that. In retirement, he had no better friends than his brothers and does at the Elks Lodge in Raleigh. You were his extended family and you returned his friendship in full measure through your acts of love and kindness to him, especially after our Mom died. Our family is so grateful to all of you.

At our family reunion just last week, our Dad was at the doorstep of heaven. He was dying as he lived. As he lay on the couch at our beach house, he enjoyed his grandsons playing cards at the table, viewed the latest movie with some of his granddaughters, loved his daughters taking care of his every need, and witnessed the usual antics of his sons and in-laws for the annual Vinnie Golf Tournament. For the first time, he saw the last of his grandchildren in Matt and Shilpa’s Lilly Bay and all of his great grandchildren in Ella, Juliette, Joshua, and Caleb. He willed himself to live that reunion week.

A few weeks back, our sister Teresa and her husband Jeff came over to our Dad’s house for dinner. Our Dad proceeded to tell us all of a bad dream he had had regarding Mom the night before. He described first how during their marriage he and our mother always had a very romantic love between each other, and each was each other’s soul mates. In his dream, he had died but found upon reaching heaven that our Mom had found another soul mate. He was so devastated. Dad, the good Lord is meeting you this day with your soul mate waiting for you. Goodbye Daddy, Goodbye Grandpop.