Tribute to My Dad
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Eulogy
Im John Bondon, Michaels son. Or as Dr Laura Schlesinger would say, "I am my fathers son." :)
When I was younger I would sometimes think
ahead to this day, trying to prepare myself for the inevitable trying to imagine
how it might feel and what I would say at this moment. But the pain of such a thought
being too great, I instead would turn those thoughts of life and death to myself and try
to imagine my own death. What it would feel like, what I would see, how I might be
remembered. That thought is also scary for me, so I never did come up with any solid
answers. But recently I did figure out one part of what I wish for when I die. I think it
was a TV show or movie that gave me the idea for what kind of funeral I would like. In
this funeral there were no tears. There was no reminiscent talk of how great I was or how
much I will be missed. Instead each person presented both the good and bad about my life
and talked of the ways in which I made a difference in the lives of my family and country. But in the case of my dad, he does not qualify for such a funeral, for I can find no real fault with the life he has lead. Surely I can stand here and talk about some of his past mistakes, but no one is perfect, and such talk seems trivial now. As a person, as my father, he was the best.
Growing up, my father never had the opportunity to really get to know his own dad even though they lived just a few blocks from each other. Thats why it was so important to him that he and I spend as much time together as possible. And he fought hard to win this time with me, even when I was too young to appreciate or understand this. That is without question the greatest gift he could ever give to me, and I am forever grateful.
Did you know that my father was self-taught in 5 languages? Besides English, he spoke German, Spanish, Italian, and French. Of course I dont mean to imply that he necessarily mastered all 5 . I remember a story when my father was a young man in his twenties, performing in an Opera in Germany. He was in a café when he overheard some of the locals talk about a hunting trip they came back from. He was intrigued by their talk, so he piped in and intended to ask the group about the shooting. Now, for those of you who speak German, you know the difference between the words "schiesen" and "scheisen". One means to shoot, the other, to say it politely means to go to the bathroom. So you can understand the look of confusion by this group of men, then the sudden roar of laughter, when my father asked how they went to bathroom all over this animal rather than asking how they shot the animal! :)
We have chosen to hold this memorial service here today because this was a very special place for him. He loved being part of this congregation. You helped to make his last few years very fulfilling. And my family thanks you for that. So long, Dad. I know you and God will watch over and protect Elizabeth and me. We will miss you always, but God has a supreme purpose for you. And I know you will sing on and compose in his choir of angels. You will live on through us. So long Dad. So long my friend, my very best friend.
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