The Great Mandala and 12 1/2 Life Lessons From Dad (A Son's Eulogy)

This past Monday, I was asked to give the eulogy at my father's funeral.  It was not an easy feat, as we had the viewing immediately prior to the Mass.  Accordingly, the family was able to assemble around the casket and take one last look at Dad, as the casket door was shut; knowing that any future views of his face would simply be transposed to memory or to photos.  Within 30 seconds of the casket door closing, I shared the words that follow.  Several in attendance has asked for those words to be shared; so, here goes.  Rest in Peace John T. Lynch July 15, 1944 - March 2, 2020.  You live on through those who loved you.....pray for us.

The Great Mandala and 12 1/2 Life Lessons From Dad (A Son's Eulogy):


27,624 chances he was given to change the world.  That’s the number of days he was on this earth. 39,778,560 minutes; each one a treasure.  Every minute that he spent with you was an investment in you; a precious moment in time that you’ll never get back; but that you can pay forward.  And then there were all of the moments that he wanted to spend with you; but simply couldn’t because of distance and some health complications that he never discussed.


I picture Dad meeting St. Peter at the pearly gates and realizing that it’s an opportunity to ask him if he knows Paul and Mary.  For the kids in the room, Peter, Paul, and Mary was a folk band that was popular in the 1960s.  This was typical of Dad’s corny humor.


Speaking of Peter, Paul, and Mary, I remember being about 5 or 6 years old and being in our basement.  Dad never was a drinker; but, he had built a bar.  It had red leather material on the front and wooden top.  It was the 70s, so that design made sense.  Dad had an 8-track player and a turn-table near the bar and he was playing a song by Peter Paul and Mary called the Great Mandala. 

I remember hearing the opening line and it has always stuck with me:


“So I told him , that he better, shut his mouth, and do his job like a man.  And he answered:  Listen father…..”


I remember asking Dad what the song was about and he told me: “the mandala is the circle of life.  You only get so many days and you need to make the right choices in life during those days that you have.  Every person starts life on part of that circle; and their life ends somewhere on that circle.  Where it is; nobody knows.”


The refrain went like this:


“Take your place on The Great Mandala
As it moves through your brief moment of time.
Win or lose now you must choose now
And if you lose you're only losing your life.”


That was the first talk that I ever had with Dad about death.  Dad explained to me that it was simply an unavoidable consequence of life and it was unpredictable.  You had two points on that circle:  birth and death; and, everything in between was simply life.


I think about Dad standing in front of God, spotless from sin and well prepped for his journey to Heaven and hearing those 6 words we all hope to hear:  “WELL DONE, good and faithful servant!;” prompting Dad to tell his first corny joke to God.  “Well done? I don’t think so.  I’ll take mine medium well.”…..and then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card to see if God would pick #3.   Those of you who played Dad’s card game know what I’m talking about.

Growing up in our family was unique.  We had 7 people in a 1,500 square foot house.  That’s about 214 square feet per person; not much.  We didn’t have much in terms of extras; but, we wanted for nothing.  We were well fed (usually by Dad….Mom added a baked potato to every meal; or so it seemed), we had clothes and we had a roof over our heads.  Most importantly, we were given our Catholic faith.


Dad was a quiet man; but so were the best Dads.  Joseph, the father who God hand-picked to raise His son, was mentioned in all 4 gospels; yet he never spoke a word.  There’s something to be said about silent fathers.  Even Dad’s best jokes were simply told by him handing you a card with a joke on it and watching his belly shake as he’d play out the punchline in his mind.  It was priceless!  It was endearing.  It was Dad.


Dad was quiet, but he was there for everything.  He was our biggest fan.  He was at every concert, at every game.  He sat, he watched, he beamed with pride and he led through example; much like Joseph did.   And like Joseph, he was the father hand-picked by God, for us.


If there was ever any question about how much Dad loved us, we need to look no further than his last day on this earth.  I raced to PA from Florida when I heard that Dad was failing quickly.  When my plane landed in Atlantic City, I knew that there was still about an hour and 15 minute drive, under the best of circumstances.  My sister, Meaghan, put the phone up to Dad’s ear and I told him.  “Dad, I just landed and I’m coming to see you.  Hold on and I’ll be there soon.  I love you.”  He could not respond to me then; but he said “I love you” back, the way that he always did:  He waited for me.  He did what he did for me his whole life.  He waited for me like he did after band practice, after trumpet lessons, after a football game at Northern Burlington High School, after a school dance, after a day at Six Flags Great Adventure with friends, after I was done working a late shift at Mastoris Diner and before I had a license.  He waited on me to arrive.  That’s one of the things that Dads do….they wait.  But, this time, he waited to make sure that all of his kids were in one room.  He taught us about faith and he needed us all there to see what the grace of a happy death looked like.  And we saw it. 

Because we have faith, we could see beauty in the saddest moment of our lives.  He waited to give us that gift and to teach us one final lesson.  Marking that spot on the circle of life, the Great Mandala, is an honor when you’re spiritually ready for it and when those who YOU waited on your entire life and there waiting with you as your soul jumps out of the shell of a body and in to its heavenly home; and what a home it is:  1^st Corinthians 2:9 tells us that we simply can’t fathom what God has prepared for us in heaven.  It’s beyond what human senses can comprehend:  “what eye has not seen and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him.”


When you watch somebody who is a righteous person you see the words of God put in to action.  For many people who encountered Dad, he may have been the only Bible that they ever read; and he gave them a good read.  I’ll share some stories with you.


Dad was a white car person for practicality reasons.  He told me, “Black shows the dirt.  White is more forgiving.”  That’s why Dad almost always drove a white car.  I remember the Lincoln Continental that Dad had for a period of time.  It was the one thing that he ever splurged on; but Dad wasn’t a splurger; he was a saver.  I remember Dad coming home one day in a white Datsun pickup truck and; until his last day of his life, he was a white truck guy.  I asked him what happened to the Lincoln Continental, and he calmly said:  “You know those big trucks that paint the lines in the middle of the road?  You know how they’re hard to miss?  Well I didn’t miss it….I smashed the heck out of the Lincoln.”  It was God’s way of telling Dad, “Who are you kidding with that Lincoln?  You were meant to be a white truck guy.  Now get back to work!”


I remember the gear shifter on that first truck.  It had a boot that was ripped and when it rained, the water would come up and splash you if you were the passenger.  But that truck was great.  When I was younger, we’d take rides in that truck and search out Victrola record players that were advertised for sale in the paper.  Dad loved those Victrola record players; he collected them.  We also chased a lot of yard sales in that truck and we went to look at several vintage fire trucks.  Dad always wanted to own an antique fire truck.  We looked at many and bought none.  So, on to life lessons learned from Dad:


Lesson #1:  time in the truck matters even when you drive far and come back with nothing.  The adventure was the time in the truck, not the object that we were hunting.  It is in coming back home with nothing, that we still came back home with something great:  time invested in each other.  How many of those 39 million plus minutes of life did we share in front of the windshield of a white pickup truck?


Other life lessons from Dad:


Lesson 2:  Serve those who serve you:  David was a waiter at the Jade Inn.  We would not go out to eat too often; but, when we did it was usually after church and it often was Chinese food.  David was a nice waiter and he got to know our family well.  One day, we went to the Jade Inn and David wasn’t there.  It turns out that he had stomach cancer.  Dad quietly dug around for information as to where David was and he visited him often while he was in the hospital.  Dad served his server.  He did not forget about him.  He gave him the best tip he could give him:  he shared some of his 39 million minutes and treated him as his friend; not his waiter.


Lesson #3:  Loyalty begins with your barber.  Henry was a barber at Ralph’s Barber Shop which was located by White Horse Circle.  Dad walked in to that barber shop and sat down in Henry’s chair and the small talk soon began.  Dad explained that he was newly married and just moved to the area from California.  Dad was job hunting and wanted to good haircut for the interviews.  As Henry finished the haircut, he did what barbers do.  He put the mirror to the back of the head, awaited the thumbs up from Dad.  He then spun the chair around and told Dad.  “I’ll tell you what.  I know that you’re trying to get settled here, so I can’t take your money.  So, this one’s on me.  When you get your job, just come back to me.”  For the rest of Henry’s life, he cut Dad’s hair and mine too.  I’ve taken my son to the same barber for most of my son’s almost 18 years of life.  I followed my barber from shop to shop to shop when he changed jobs.  It would have been easier to stay in one place and move on; but, that’s not the lesson taught to me by my father.  Loyalty matters.


Lesson #4:  Get a real haircut:  Do it right the first time.  Dad told me the story about his father giving him money and sending him off to the barber when he was a little boy.  On one occasion, Dad told the barber to just trim a little bit off.  When Dad got home and his father saw him, he sternly told him:  go back to the barber and get a “real haircut.”  Dad told me that story often and the moral was simple:  when you’re asked to do something, do it well…..do it right the first time; or, you’ll have to go back and get a “real” haircut.


Lesson #5:  The most important people on the ship are not the officers.  It’s not the captain.  It’s the cooks.  Be friends with people like them because they sustain life and can give you extras if they like you.  Dad spent 4 years of life on an aircraft carrier; a floating city called the USS Coral Sea.  A buddy of mine from high school served as a Marine.  After reading Dad’s obituary, he sent me a private note to say:  any true Marine loves a good Navy hospital corpsman.  Guys like your Dad were golden, because of the role that they played.  They saved guys like us.  Why do the Marines like the Navy corpsmen?  They’re the servants who sustain life.  This gave me perspective.  It’s the servants who are the front line folks who sustain and save lives.  Get to know the servants; not the commanders.


Lesson #6:  Vacations are about leaving home.  Life happens when you’re in the house with family…so why leave home? 

We never took vacations when I was growing up, so we definitely had togetherness and we got to know each other well.  There was the one trip to Williamsburg; but, that doesn’t count.  It simply ensured that we’d serve less time in Purgatory. I guess modest amounts of money can truly build richness of family; and it did.  


I tried to find a way to copy some of Dad’s philosophy while also folding in the togetherness of family and working in vacations without leaving behind the home dynamic.  For me and my crew, we went the RV route.  Sometimes we had 10 people within a 450 square foot living space that we lived in, ate in, slept in and traveled in for weeks at a time.  That experience fostered family togetherness by forcing the family into uncomfortable situations while we travelled together through something like 43 states in an RV that we affectionately called the “Misery Machine.”  In this instance, I anchored to Dad’s main premise about life happening in the house and simply made sure that the house had wheels on it.  We can always learn from our parents by either replication of what they did, by not repeating what they did, or by focusing on the goal and shifting the means to the goal.  With Dad, I’ve incorporated all 3 approaches to try to become a better Dad, based on what I learned from him.


Lesson #7:  It’s not about you, so don’t act like it is:  Dad’s distaste for holidays….At times, Dad would seem a bit grumpy; but, in retrospect, it seemed to do with the commercialization of things that should be more solemn.  People are so excited about getting gifts for themselves on Jesus’ birthday.  How warped is that?  Thanksgiving; what’s that?  We should say prayers and thank God before every meal. And, every time that family can be together in the same place, at the same time, it’s thanksgiving.  According to Dad’s logic, TODAY is not a funeral, it’s Thanksgiving and he’s provided the excuse.  Thanks Dad, and happy Thanksgiving to you too.


Lesson #8  Give a firm handshake and look them in the eye; it’s your first impression.  You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.

I learned this lesson at the swimming pool of the Sheraton Hotel in Bordentown.  One of Dad’s friends from the Navy came to visit.  I remember Dad calling me out of the pool to meet his friend.  Dad pulled me aside afterwards and said:  “ a firm handshake is a sign on character.  Do it; and always look them right in the eye when you shake their hand.”  I can’t tell you how many hands I’ve almost broken since that talk with Dad.  If I shake your hand, you’ll remember me.  Thanks Dad.


Lesson #9:  Never hit your sisters: because they’re the first women in your life; and, you never hit women period.  They’re your first chance to live life right.


Life lesson 9.5:  Suck it up….offer it up for the souls in Purgatory.  I like this verse from 2^nd Corinthians for two reasons:  (1) it references the joy that we receive through affliction and (2) it talks about having pride in those who you love.   Dad often referred to his family as his “Pride and Joy:”   2 Corinthians 7:4 “I have great confidence in you, I have great pride in you; I am filled with encouragement, I am overflowing with joy all the more because of all our affliction.  Dad showed us how to have joy in affliction.

Lesson 10:  Search for the happy home; not the big one.  This one is self-explanatory.  The home that Dad grew up in, in Pasadena, had a living room that was bigger than the whole home that I grew up in.  I lacked nothing though.  At the end of Dad’s life, he talked more about growing up in the smaller La Cañada house than in Pasadena.  That’s because his Mom was still alive and his family was whole and happy in La Cañada.  When it comes down to it, the house was always secondary to who lived in it.  A small house filled with loved ones is a home.  That same small home, full of memories, but empty of family is as big and as empty as the Pasadena mansion.  Bricks and mortar won’t make you happy; the people who you love will make you happy.  Chase them going forward.  Never forgo the future by clinging to the past.  The house that I grew up in did not make me……my family did.

Lesson 11:  Be a friend to your dog.  Let them walk you.  Sometimes they’ll even train you.  My best memories of Dad are of looking out the window and seeing dad peeing in the yard while holding the dog leash in the other hand.  In time, the dogs knew what Dad’s nighttime bathroom schedule was and they made sure that they took him for a walk.  Dad had one dog that would wake him up at 3 AM every morning.  Dad got frustrated that the dog would never relieve itself when he took the dog out at 3 AM.  Soon, Dad realized that the dog knew what time that he liked to use the rest room; so, the dog woke him up and took him outside for a walk.


Lesson 12:  The first shall be last, the last shall be first……so make your “first wife” your last wife.  Sacramental marriage matters.


And the lesson that I learned from both of my parents:  marriage is where good people go to die. 


Dad passed away recently; but, he started to die to himself the moment he said “I do.”  It’s the way that things are supposed to happen in marriage.  For TWO to become a new ONE, you both need to die to yourself.  It’s God’s plan.


Dad moved to the East coast.  He worked some jobs that were less than desirable to keep food in our bellies and a roof over our heads.  He spent 54 years of marriage dying to himself while he was living for family.


Mom did the same thing.  She started to die to herself the minute she said “I do” too. 

While Dad was in cardiac ICU and in hospice, we all knew that he was dying; but, Mom was the one dying to herself to care for Dad.  Some of the best lessons that my parents ever taught me, they’ve taught me recently.
  

For the young people in the pews, if you want to see a great glimpse of what marriage is all about, look at a picture of mom and dad holding hands in side-by-side beds at the hospice facility.  THAT was the wedding bed that they were in.  They were experiencing a second honeymoon; not of passionate love called eros; but, of agape love; a type of love that surpasses all other forms of love that God gives us on this earth. 


It’s the “Great Mandala” of marriage.  The first point is the day that you get married; when you think that you can’t possibly love that person any more.  The more that you die to yourself and live for the marriage, the more that you love in ways that you never dreamed imaginable.  And, when you absolutely love with all of your heart, to the extent that you actually can’t love that person any greater; God allows you to hit that second point on the Great Mandala of marriage….because God is the only one who can love your spouse more than you can.

So those are my 12 ½ life lessons from Dad.  Dad may have said that we were his “pride and joy.”  Today, I’m happy to be in a room full of people who use those same words to describe him.

In Navy tradition you “weigh” in an anchor when it’s removed from the ocean and you hoist and raise it.  “Aweigh” means that function has been completed and it’s time to sail the ship.  So, with a good life completed and the race won, I salute you and send you off with the words to a meaningful song about your voyage:



Anchors aweigh, my boys, anchors aweigh,

Farewell to foreign shores,

We sail at break of day,

Through our last night ashore,

Drink to the foam,

Until we meet once more,

Here’s wishing you a happy voyage home.