My Father's Eulogy

In December 2020, I wrote my dad's eulogy for an intimate celebration of life

On November 17, 2020, my Dad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. Below is the eulogy I wrote for my dad’s celebration of life held in Fort Myers Beach, Florida in December 2020. I thought this was appropriate to publish and share on Father’s Day.

Thank you all for being here today to celebrate the life of our Dad, Dan Fitzgerald. I know that’s what he would want us to be doing, celebrating his life, what he meant to us, laughing, and reminiscing, instead of sulking around, wrapped up in our grief and anger.

Dad was born in a city most of us call home - Philadelphia, and it was his love for this city that shaped my love for it. He grew up on the Jersey shore, in Wildwood, and it was apparent how much love he had for this geographical location as well. When I think about Philly or the shore, I think about Dad. I think about Wawa’s hoagies and soft pretzels, greasy cheesesteaks, ice cream on the boardwalk, Philly sports, and “wooder ice.” All of these things are inherently Philadelphian, just like Daddy.

So much of Dad’s life story and personality traits were like mine. He was outgoing, knew how to have fun, and partied a bit too much. We both love sweets - ice cream and cake and chocolate! We both rocked our glasses. He had many different groups of friends throughout his life, all of whom loved him and kept in touch with him until the end. We both felt things very deeply. We felt our feelings and we didn’t hesitate to cry. We both struggled with numbing our emotions in unhealthy ways. We both went through periods in our lives where we hurt those who love us. And fortunately, we both had moments where we decided to change our lives for the better. We did it differently, and for different reasons, and our journeys looked and felt very different. But what we did was the same - we left behind an unhealthy substance that was preventing us from living our best life.

Because of this, I feel like I didn’t fully appreciate my dad until later in life. That’s when he started showing up. He started attending all my soccer games. He became successful at his career. He supported me. He supported us. He wanted to see us become successful too, to thrive on our own, have budding careers, own property, and make lives for ourselves. Even though I had no clue how to do any of those things.

I’ll never forget the summer internship in college I had at Dad’s work. He was so proud to introduce me to everyone. Everyone I met already knew who I was, where I went to school and a few random facts about me. Back then I would roll my eyes thinking it was funny, I know now it’s because he talked about his daughters all the time.

For Dad family was everything, even if he could never really articulate it. Coming from a family where he experienced loss frequently, it makes sense to me that he took every opportunity he could to tell stories about us and his grandkids. Let’s be honest, he enjoyed talking in general. He liked talking about himself, his achievements, and the achievements of his family.

That was Dad, embellishing stories, loud talking, and loud laughing. And over time I grew to love and accept these qualities about him.

My dad was smart, not just book smart, but street smart and tech-savvy. I can’t tell you how many times he brought my old computers back from the dead, helped troubleshoot a tech connection issue, or helped me do research for certain products or services. He was the one we trusted to help us find and purchase our first home, and cars, and to explain the crazy world of mortgages and credit cards.

As his co-workers have said, he was a problem-solver, always finding a way to fix or solve any issue that came about. For the last several years he had been doing the same for me. I could call or text him about any random thing and he would have an answer for me within a few days at most, but probably more like a few hours.

In fact, he spent his last few days on this Earth power washing our driveway, fixing our toilet, preparing to install a new closet organizer in our house, and surveying one of our carpets for mold. I believe these small acts of kindness and good deeds became his way of showing love.

I am grateful to have had many recent conversations about life with Dad, learning more about who he was and his outlook on life. Some were intense and dramatic (just like him) others were full of random facts I never knew about him. I know we never had the perfect father-daughter relationship but I am glad we were able to come to a mutual understanding and respect for each other.

Dad got to see the Phillies win the World Series, the Eagles win the Superbowl, and Donald Trump get voted out of office, and I know these events were enough to make his life complete. He spent so many recent years tanning on the beach and golfing away on the greens.

I know the way we lost dad wasn’t fair. We weren’t ready and it doesn’t make sense. But I will take solace in the fact that he lived a good life, one where he overcame obstacles, became successful, and shared his life with his family and friends.

Dad was not a perfect human being, father, husband, or grandfather, but then, who is?

What he taught me by his example is to not live in the shadows. Be proud of who and what you are. To live life one day at a time, for your own happiness, not the happiness of others. Do enough research and familiarize yourself with anything before purchasing or agreeing to it - or find a husband who can do this for you. To always say yes to a piece of cake, or a chocolate bar. To prepare for the future, even when I don’t feel like it. And to find peace in the mundane - an afternoon nap, a Florida sunset, or a good song.

I will miss our talks, learning new things about you, your endless help and advice, eating good food and drinking non-alcoholic beer with you, and your hugs.

Love you to the moon and back Daddy. Thanks for being mine.