My dad passed away last Thursday and I feel heartbroken. Over the last few weeks, my sister and I have been with him in the Royal Victoria hospital around the clock. He suffered a lot and it was so hard to see and not be able to help more.
I was with him the night before he passed away. My sister was with him the next day at the moment he died. I'm glad that he was never alone. Everything else was really hard.
Here is an announcement from the funeral home, and below is what I plan to say at the funeral service.
It’s easy at times like these to try to paint a perfect picture of the person who passed away.
But I’m not interested in painting a perfect picture. I want to be real and honor my father for who he was.
My dad was not perfect, like none of us are perfect. He faced inner and outer challenges, as we all do. But I didn’t need him to be perfect to love him. I loved him because he was who he was.
There are so many things that will stay with me about my dad. There’s no way to mention them all. All I can do is highlight a few, that come to mind in quite an arbitrary way:
I remember him when I was small in Romania, teaching me math, pushing me to do the hard problems with the star from the back of the book, kindling my lifelong interest in math and eventually physics and engineering
I remember when he took me to visit his work place in Bucharest, at the factory where they made/assembled airplanes, showing me ball bearings, which I thought were the coolest things.
La mare! Seaside! Every year, in Romania, we went to the seaside. My father was always the one to take my cousins and I in the water, and do the fun things with us. The Black Sea was quite agitated, but he would carefully watch all of us and we would have so much fun playing in the waves, floating on special mats, looking out for jelly fish and the small insects we called penite.
I can picture my dad always tinkering with and fixing his car “in fata blocului” in front of our apartment building. There was always a lot of cussing and complaining, but secretly, I think he enjoyed the process. And he always offered to help others whenever they had car troubles as well,
I remember my dad waiting for us in NYC, when we first arrived from Romania in December 1986. We had not seen him in 2 years because that’s how long it took the communist government at the time to let our family reunite. I was so happy to see him at the ariport, and I remember that as such a magical time, seeing the lights of NYC as our plane landed, and my dad waiting at the airport with bananas and Pepsi which to us seemed as such a luxury at the time
I remember how he could look up at a dot moving across the sky and be able to tell us what type of aircraft it was, what engine it had, the manufacturer, and basically give a whole dissertation on the subject to anyone willing to listen
His lifelong interest in F1 racing. In fact, the last two days he spent at home a couple of weeks ago, he was so happy to be able to watch his F1 races. I asked him when he was in the hospital who his favorite team was and he said Mercedes so I will definitely be watching and rooting for them going forward.
In Canada, I remember his daily walks and bike rides. He would walk kilometers every day and bike by the St Laurence River, and just loved being outside and very active. The bike path and river path in Brossard will always be associated with him in my mind and I will continue to walk there to feel close to him
I remember his constant tinkering with and fixing anything mechanical
His love of classical music
His vast knowledge of history and current events. He always knew what was going on in the world and had deep insight into geo politics and the driving forces behind events, and so he was very interesting to talk to.
How his radio in the kitchen was on every morning and he enjoyed so much when I brought it to him in the hospital as a little piece of home
How he was always willing to help Romanian immigrants who came here. He helped many over the years find jobs, gave sound financial advice, and generally helped them integrate into the new culture and living environment
His story about being a refugee himself and how traumatic a moment that was in his life in 1984; how he left with nothing but a toothbrush and 100 dollars, afraid for his life, and how he found God in the transition. Because of him, we and our children have good lives here now. He literally made our lives possible.
I remember his love of travel, which I feel I also inherited from him, and vast cultural knowledge,
How he stayed faithful to his roots and culture until the very end, while also making good friends from other cultures here in Canada, like his "choir" group, neighbors, etc
How he was always appreciated at work, as an engineer and in a broader way by every circle he was part of, as a serious, respectful person
I could keep going, but I don’t because there’s nothing I can say that could do justice to who he was, his life history, his impact on me. Suffice it to say that he will live on through me and the rest of our family.
He would have been grateful to all of you who came to honor his life today. Thank you!
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