A Dad's Funeral

As Wifey pointed out, we're at the stage in our lives when the elderly parents are, more and more, leaving us. Yesterday it was Dr. Dave's Dad Herb's turn. Herb was a classic Greatest Generation guy. He was born poor in Brooklyn, and dreamed of being a jazz saxophonist. But he was drafted right out of high school, and sent to the front lines in Europe because of his ability to translate German to English -- due to German's similarity with his second language, Yiddish. He liberated a few concentration camps, and returned to the US and the GI Bill. He ended up getting a college degree and then went to Brooklyn Law. Afterwards, he tried his hand at "ambulance chasing," as his lawyer hating daughter in law Maureen wrote, but found he HATED being in court. So he found a niche in real estate law, and built a very succesful practice and business portfolio. He and his wife Phyllis had 4 kids -- the oldest being my friend and doctor Dave, born in '52. Herb had homes in LI and Boca, and gave his 4 kids and grandkids a great help in life. Tragically, years ago, he lost one of his sons to cancer. He never got over that, of course. The funeral yesterday was on Atlantic Avenue in Delray. It brought back the many awful memories I have of West Delray -- the place my beloved father died, and later, the destination of many long trips to look after Ancient Mom. Herb was an avid supporter of Veterans Groups, and he had full military honors: 2 Marines attended. One played Taps, and then they folded the flag draped over the coffin, and handed it to Dave. We then drove to Eternal Light, out on 441, the cemetary that holds most of my dead aunts, uncles, and grandmother. Wifey and I were there less than a year ago for the burial of my partner Paul's mother Lillian. Ancient Mom won't be going there. She shared my father's disdain for the funeral industry, and will be cremated and her ashes spread at sea. Mom HATED one sound above all: dirt and rocks falling onto a casket. We heard it yesterday after the Israeli born rabbi said some grave side prayers. Afterwards we decamped to Ben's -- a deli in West Boca that Herb loved. We chatted with Dave and MAureen's lovely daughters. One is headed to Vet School at Penn, the other for a Master's at Ga Tech. We've known these girls since the younger was D1's pre K friend. It's a blessing to see how they've bloomed into amazing, lovely, and accomplished women. I made my way through the Mercedes and BMWs of West Boca. My father always chuckled at the noveau riche Jews' love for German cars. I've leased a BMW and bought one for D1 -- my father, even when he made money, stuck to GM. So another of his generation is gone. The Rabbi remarked how wonderful it was that 7 of 8 of Herb's grandchildren were at the funeral. This was rare these days, he noted. And so it is. My mother gets regular visits at the nursing home from 2 of her 6 grandkids, even though 4 of them live in Florida. I guess it's easy to let the very old fade away -- out of busy lives. Somehow Herb packed them in yesterday. His was a life well lived.