My Dad Passed -- A Eulogy

My dad died a week ago tomorrow. We concluded his final goodbyes today with his burial and family lunch at his farm.

He passed after just a few days at home, proceeding just as he would have wanted after he made his decision to come home from the hospital.  I think we all thought we would have more time, I know I did, but dad, per usual, had his own plans and that was okay too.

Over the years dad and I had spent much time together talking about everything under the sun.  I am no saint and I would sometimes complain about having to care for him, I would get frustrated at his poor health more than at him, but I wasn't perfect in his journey.  That being said, I can honestly say that even after some of my most trying days, I would always say that I knew it was a  blessing that I got to spend this time with him.  To share the stories, wipe his tears, hold his hand, hear the same jokes and stories over and over and laughing all the same.  I know I was lucky, I cherished him and our time together, more than I cursed it.

After he passed, we went about our duties to prepare for his funeral and our final goodbyes.  Thankfully, we all had enough time to sit with him and listen to his final wishes for us, assign us tasks, recount his memories.  He truly did pass peacefully, at home, just as he had always wanted.

The funeral was on Saturday, followed by a lunch reception...no visitation because he didn't want that, cremation because he did.  In the dark nights of his various hospital stays he would make his plans with me, "arrangements" he called them, and I promised to honor them.  My brothers and my mom trusted that I knew the plans and allowed me to lead them.  It was touching, the delicate dance the five remaining Wessels did this past week, difficult for me at times, but for my dad I would do anything.  I have never felt so united with my family, ours a testy past as is the case of so many families, all of us having made mistakes, hurting each other, not enough I'm sorries to make it better, sometimes I'm sorry never even said.  But, for this, for our dad, we came together and joined each other in our grief and sadness and rallied together like the Clan dad always wanted us to be.  I am proud of us and I know dad loved it.

I am not sure why I got to deliver the eulogy, it was one part of the mass dad and I didn't discuss.  I was writing this blog anyway so I offered and I think the others were glad for the volunteer.  Eulogies aren't easy, not that I have ever done one, but I could imagine.  I set off writing, cursor blinking at me from the page, taunting me as I struggled like I had never struggled before, writing always my friend but now had become my foe.

I walked and thought and walked some more, my best writing is done in my head as I traverse my hometown with my dogs on lead...it didn't work this time, words evasive, stories in my head but not making it to paper.  I listened to a recording I had of dad from last summer, his life story in a way, but more just stories he told to me as we had lunch on his farm.  I am not sure why I recorded it but so thankful I did.  It was after hearing his voice again, strong and steady, hearing his laughter, his attention to detail, his corny jokes and funny stories that it came to me and the words poured on to the page.

I hope it is good, I hope it honored my dad in the way he deserved after a life he spent sacrificing for us.  Everyone said it was very well written and that I delivered it well, it is all a blur for me.  My heart racing 400 beats per minute, the slightest quiver in my voice, periodic pauses to catch my breath or to clear the slight lump trying to form in my throat.  When it was over, I thought I would be relieved but, instead I was more nervous than before as I hoped the expectations of my family were met with the story I just shared.  I hoped they thought I did our dad justice.

I share it now here because on this blog it is what I do when things happen to me.  I write and I share and I hope that it matters to someone else who may have these same feelings or happenings.  I share this because my dad deserved to have his story told....the American Dream, an eternal love story with my mom, successful business, proud family and wonderful grandchildren.  I share it because dad deserved nothing less.  I hope you feel the same after you read it.

It is both a blessing and a curse to be the one that gives the eulogy at a funeral.  A blessing because I get to speak to all of you about my dad, I get to tell you from my perspective who my dad was, what I think is important, the stories I remember.  A curse because how in the world do I properly honor this incredible person who was my dad.  I will do my best although I am sure I will fall short. 

First and foremost, dad was an American.  He loved this country and everything it stood for.  He was thankful for the opportunities it provided him, knowing that if he lived anyplace else, he could work as hard and long as he did here in the United States and would never have reaped the rewards that were afforded him.  When asked one time, “If Germany and the United States are playing each other in sports, who do you cheer for?”  Dad couldn’t even understand the question because once he was here he was American all the way.  He cherished his time in Germany, he missed his family and some of the traditions but he assimilated to life here and made this his home, instilling in all of us the same love of country.  One of his greatest achievements in life was when he became a citizen in March, 1963.  In a life of many great accomplishments, this was one of his most proud.

My dad was a farmer at heart.  He loved nothing more than to go to his farm in Warsaw and drive around, look at the deer and turkeys, fix the fences, tend to his bees, plant turnips and clover for the wildlife, and spend time with us – his farm and his family were all that mattered to him the last several years of his life.  I think the 800 acres represented his life coming full circle from his small farming community in Northern Germany to a life well lived only to end up on a farm in Gallatin County, KY.  Besides my mom, us kids and our families, nothing else mattered at the end.

In July of 2019, mom, dad and I took a drive to his farm in Warsaw.  We planned to have lunch and spend the afternoon looking out the front window at the deer and turkey that regularly wandered in the field.  For a few years now, I had been wanting to talk to dad about his life story, how he came to the USA, his growing up years in Lorup, Germany and his early life with mom and our family.  I am the youngest of the four kids so my memories of dad start when he was about 45.  I always wondered, from his perspective, what happened in those first 45 years.  It was on this day at his farm, having lunch, that I started asking questions.  I recorded our talk and I am so glad I did.  With dad passing it is something my mom, brothers, and our families will cherish forever.  Dad was so funny and quick witted and during the almost two hour conversation, mom and I laughed about 20 times.  He loved to make jokes, I have heard many a nurse fall for one of his favorites.  Nurses always ask, “Mr. Wessels do you have hearing aids?” (side note - he didn’t) and my dad would say ‘huh?’ and the nurse would repeat the question and dad would say ‘huh’ and this would go on, with me laughing at him, until the nurse caught on that she was an unaware participant in dad’s comedy routine, then she would laugh too.  I still smile thinking about it.  Most of all he loved to hear mom laugh – even if the joke was on her – mom always laughed at dad.  It is one of my favorite things about them.  It is one of the things I will miss the most.  And I know mom will miss his humor, his stories and his vast knowledge of so many things.  Just since he has passed mom and I have looked at each other at least ten times wondering the answer to something, or needing a phone number and saying ‘Dad would know that”.  I told mom, I am going to have to teach her how to google since our real life encyclopedia is gone.  It is one of the many things we will have to get used to. 

Dad moved from Lorup, a small farming community of about 1500 people in Northern Germany when he was 17.  He had completed an apprenticeship to become a brick layer and, with his new skill set and tools from his teacher, he moved to Dusseldorf.   The story goes that when dad went to pack his few possessions for the move from Lorup, his mom hid all of the suitcases and told him he wasn’t leaving.  Determined, Dad found a box, loaded up what he had, hugged his family goodbye and set off on his life.    

This move started what would become a 10 year adventure with dad making life changing decisions, meeting some incredibly kind people, getting good advice from mentors along the way, passing on a few relationships and keeping his mind positive - looking at his life as a journey, only he would know when he reached his final destination.  He said, “I loved to read and I knew there was a whole world out there.  I was young and strong and smart and knew I could make a better life for myself in the US than what I could have in Germany.”  His life was calculated, always conscience of his ultimate goal – to move to the USA and make a life here. 

After two or so years working and living in Dusseldorf, dad saw an advertisement in the newspaper for an all-expenses paid trip to Canada in exchange for six months work as a farm hand.  Without hesitation he signed up.  He knew no one in Canada, he didn’t speak French or English, he had little money…all he needed was his passport and a healthy dose of courage…he had both.

After an 8 day journey he arrived on March 11, 1953.  The Caldwell family were his hosts and they started the kindness that dad was lucky enough to enjoy, meeting people along the way that only wanted to help him.  He would read the English newspaper, looking at the pictures and reading the captions to learn his first words of this new language.  The language barrier did, however, cause some funny situations.  One night he was in the field chopping wood and Mrs. Caldwell called out to him “Dinner! Dinner!”  Dad, hearing that word immediately translated it to his native low German and thought Mrs. Caldwell needed him to chop the wood thinner.  He chopped the next pieces as thin as he could and, to his surprise, Mrs. Caldwell came out again yelling, “Dinner! Dinner!”  Frustrated, he thought, “This lady must be crazy, I can’t cut this wood any thinner.”  He gave up, went inside to a warm kitchen with a bounty of food on the table and laughed to himself as he realized what ‘dinner’ was.  He had so many stories like this. 

After his six months of work on the farm were finished, he moved on to Kitchener, Canada.  In Kitchener he rented a room from a Romanian family.  He said once they got to know him they would invite him almost every night to have dinner with their family, they helped him with his English and created a sense of community that helped anchor dad and gave him a sense of belonging.  At this point he had been on his own for about five years with no family or serious relationship, just dad alone in the world.

His mom hated the fact that he was alone, not understanding that the solitude for dad wasn’t that big of a deal.  She was very family oriented and dad inherited that trait as he grew older and had a family of his own.  She orchestrated Dad’s move to Pittsburgh to live with his great Uncle John.  So on December 31, 1955 dad boarded a bus to the USA, arriving in Buffalo and eventually making his way to Pittsburgh.

While in Pittsburgh he worked in a machine shop.  He said the money was good, it was a union shop, but it wasn’t work he particularly enjoyed.  He wanted to work his trade, build things, be outside.  After about a year, his friend from Lorup, Willie Gerdes had written him telling him he had recently immigrated to Northern Kentucky.  Dad had heard that other people from his hometown, now known collectively as The Lorupers, were also in Northern Kentucky.  As he told me this part of the story he affectionately called them a Tribe when recalling his first visit here to see everyone.  While none were directly related to him, when he came to visit, he knew this would be his forever home.  The man who would become my Uncle Matth (my mom’s brother) offered dad a job on the weekend he visited and dad readily accepted.  Matth was a cabinet maker and had just started his own building business and had plenty of work, dad recalled.  So for the promise of $1.45 an hour, dad packed up his belongings and headed to Northern Kentucky. 

When he got here, the Lorupers hosted a party.  He laughed recalling Herman Moeller on the drums and Willie Gerdes on the accordion – honestly all of us first generation Lorupers fondly remember Mr. Gerdes playing his accordion any chance he got.  Dad loved it here immediately. 

It was soon after moving that dad and mom met at a dance.  They knew each other from Germany but dad was 6 years older than mom.  When he first left Lorup she was a little girl who was best friends with his sister.  Dad was working for Uncle Matth and mom had recently immigrated herself.  To hear dad tell it, several people had to encourage him to ask mom for a date and mom was just pining away for him…like I said, dad was very funny.  Either way, they started dating and mom was drawn to dad for his work ethic and goals.  Mom was also a huge Elvis Presley fan – young Elvis in 1957 – and while dad couldn’t sing a lick he did have a striking resemblance to a blonde Elvis – tall, strong, thin – so handsome, healthy and young.  I am sure mom was smitten. 

After about a year of dating, mom was very homesick, she came here when she was 17 and had a series of jobs where she didn’t like the work and people were not very nice to her.  She told dad she wanted to go back to Germany.  Dad told it this way, “I knew I wanted to marry her but I wasn’t moving back to Germany and I wasn’t going to be with mom if she really wanted to live in Germany.  I told mom that she should go back to Lorup and look around and see what is there. She should stay for two months and I would wait for her and if she came back I would be there, but if she went and stayed for longer than two months I was moving on…”  I never said dad was a romantic type – instead he was practical, down to earth, and straight forward - that was his style.  I am sure mom heard what he said and, I mean, who could resist it…she didn’t leave and the rest is history. 

They married in 1960 and proceeded to build what they both look back on as the best life they could have imagined.  Mom would say that dad’s adventurous spirit never died. He would take chances in their business that would keep her up at night as he lay sleeping peacefully next to her, confident that things would work out, and they usually did.  One time, dad had a problem with zoning for one of his apartment communities – the city changed the zoning status and told dad he couldn’t build the apartments anymore.  Dad had already sold one of his other properties and had put all of that money into the new project so the hardship the city had imposed on them was palpable.  Facing the thought of losing everything, dad took his backhoe and just started digging and building…no building permit, nothing, and the city trying to stop him.  Eventually, they ran out of the money he had on hand, the development stopped.  He and mom got in their car with my older brothers in tow and drove to Cincinnati where they met with a man from 5/3 Bank.  With an interview and a handshake, the banker made the construction loan to dad and the project continued.  It is now Devou Village Apartments in Fort Wright.

I could go on and on about dad’s business success but I am not sure that is who he really was.  Yes he was an incredibly hard worker, leaving at 6 in the morning, coming home to eat at 5 and then going back out until dark, sometimes running the car so the lights could illuminate his work.  He built both of the homes I grew up in with his own two hands, he could do it all – from foundation to finish, he was incredibly talented.  All the while, as he was working hard and having a young family, he also was involved in so many other things.  He served on city council for many years in Crescent Springs, he was a member of the Building Association, he served on the planning commission and he and mom were active here at St. Joe’s on committees and helping with the festival.  When the city of Crescent Springs consisted of nothing but a two lane Buttermilk Pike surrounded by farms, dad secured federal funding for sewer lines to be put under the city streets.  He then helped each homeowner get the pipe to their homes – he would go with his backhoe after working all day and do the install, with the help of the homeowner.  That was just one of the many things he did for the city, there are many more.

In the years after us kids graduated high school and college and went on to have our own lives, mom and dad surrounded themselves with great friends – they travelled, had parties, and hosted events.  They transition seamlessly into empty nesters, buying a home in Florida, owning a boat, making new friends and spending their winters in the Florida sunshine.  They had earned much success with their hard work and sacrifice and they, rightfully, enjoyed it. 

We talk a lot in our family about business and work. I think that is nature of being German, it equates with being hard workers.  Being a hard worker and building his business was important to dad but an incident a couple years ago, taught me even more about what he truly valued.  In January, 2018 dad fell and broke his leg.  It was traumatic for him and took a special kind of strength for him at age 85 to come back from.  During his stay at the rehab hospital, a social worker came to visit and did an extensive interview with dad.  I am not sure why but it seemed they were trying to measure his cognitive ability.  This makes sense but anyone who knew dad knew he remained sharp as a tack up to his last days.  Even the social worker was amazed at the level of detail he could recall.  She asked him question after question about his life…and one question, in particular, stuck out to me….”If you could name one thing in your life that you are most proud of, what would it be?”  My mind raced as I thought back on dad’s life – coming to the USA, becoming a citizen, his company, the Gateway Center, his farm….but when dad answered he said, “you know the one thing I am most proud of is my family and my wife. I have the best kids and grandkids anyone could imagine and my wife is a saint who has put up with me all these years.”  It was sweet, poignant and truly shows that all the success in the world can’t make up for the love of family.

The last two years dad hired a man to help him with his exercises and drive him to various appointments and, of course, take daily visits to the farm.  Jerry has been with dad almost every day since, dad ended up calling Jerry his best friend, he would tell me Jerry was his arms and legs at the farm as dad became less and less able to do certain tasks himself.  I am sure Jerry could stand up here and tell you stories about the situations the two of them got into that would have us all in stitches.  They were quite a pair.  When Jerry learned of dad’s passing, he was as devastated as the rest of us and his first response was, “your dad taught me more about being a husband, father and love of family than anyone else I know.”  That was dad…in a nutshell. 

A lot of people who met my dad when he was younger would comment on how tall he was, intimidating almost, not knowing him well, not knowing that under that burly exterior was one of the gentlest men I know.  An old softee…that was my dad.  Oh yea when we were younger, more my brothers than me, dad wasn’t afraid to discipline.  Like all of you, we have the usual stories of a childhood full of crazy rules and even crazier punishments if you broke them.  If friends spent the night on Friday night, they were up with the rest of us on Saturday mornings doing chores.  On Sunday, we were regularly woken up for 9:30 mass by the German music blasting through the surround sound speakers. I remember one night when I went to my cousin Jack’s 21^st birthday party and, to noone’s surprise, had a little bit too much fun, earning me quite the hangover the next day….while mom didn’t speak to me for a week, it was dad who snuck me chicken noodle soup as I suffered in my bedroom.  He could not bear it when one of us hurt or were sad.  Another time, dad tried to raise cattle at his farm. This venture didn’t last too long as he had a harder and harder time sending them off to slaughter, suddenly he and mom were the proud parents to a herd of cattle – dad’s newest pets – he was so kind and soft hearted underneath all that gruff.  

All of us kids and grandkids have been given so much by our parents, especially dad.  His most loved farm will live on under the direction of my brothers and their sons.  The business he created and made so successful also lives on with the help of my brothers.  I will keep alive his memory for the grandchildren.  I promised dad that I would always take care of my mom, one of his biggest worries as he realized he would soon be leaving us.  I know we will all live on in his honor, we will make decisions just as he did that will help us attain our goals in life.  We will all strive to make him proud.

I see dad in all of us.  Bernie is becoming a farmer like dad – he has a beautiful farm right next to dad’s in Warsaw, he is also, underneath his tough exterior, the biggest softie in the bunch.  Carlo is a gentle soul – he has dad’s quiet strength and cool head that helps all of us as we face challenges, he is dependable and someone we all count on.  Rick has dad’s work ethic, intelligence and a thirst for knowledge.  He loves to read and, like dad usually has the answer. Me – I have dad’s love of family and love of a good time – I take pride in surrounding myself with my family and close friends – dad kept a small circle and so do I, but once you are in the circle, our loyalty knows no bounds.  Mom will always have dad’s memories and the incredible life and love story they built.  I had the privilege of watching that love manifest itself for my entire life but even more so in these past ten years as dad’s health began to decline, they both taught me so much. 

Dad also lives on in the grandkids…Kent is an entrepreneur, Nick and David strive to be farmers, Jon and Jake are wicked smart, Michael is always up for a good time, Rylee is an adventure seeker, Norb is funny and outgoing, Micaela is our gentle soul, Chris is still young but has a quiet strength about him, Ben carries on dad’s name and with it his work ethic, and Lainey is a leader, out spoken and direct. They all love the outdoors, the boys all hunt and fish, they will carry on the traditions Opa so dearly loved – above all family first.  They sure did love their Opa and their Opa sure did love them.  I know they all will miss him every day.

We love you dad, we will miss you, but we will make you proud. Thank you to everyone who is here and who listened to me.  We hope to visit with all of you after the mass at Fort Mitchell Country Club to share your favorite memories of dad, have a nice meal and enjoy a drink in dad’s honor.