Worst Saturday Ever.

Yesterday, I gave the eulogy at my father's funeral, a task I don't wish upon anyone. I suppose I had previously pondered what that day and moment might be like, however, I never expected I'd be living it so soon. At 59, Dennis Hailey left us far too early, but easily stayed long enough to leave an indelible mark on all who met him. As some who could not attend the funeral have requested, here is the eulogy I delivered:



I have thought about this moment before, but I hardly thought it would be occurring so soon. First, I'd like to thank everyone who came from near and far to celebrate Dad's life. It shows how many people my dad reached in his all too brief time with us.


It is impossible to sum up anyone's life in a page of text or a matter of minutes, so I'm not even going to try. Instead I'll focus on the theme that popped up most often while I was deciding what to write for today. The word that came to me over and over when thinking about Dad was service. Service to his country. Service to his employer. Service to his community. Service to his Parish. Service to his friends and neighbors. And, of course, service to his family. My Dad gave and gave and gave, rarely asking for anything in return.


Dad worked for the phone company in one capacity or another for 30 years. He started out racing through the streets of Washington DC and its suburbs collecting coins from pay phones. He progressed to installation which included spending time in growing federal buildings and the expanding Metro system. He especially got a kick out of working in the secure, secret clearance tunnels beneath the White House and Capitol. Eventually, he made his way to the Eastern Shore where his job titles continued to change as technology demanded it, leading to roles as cable splicer and fiber optics technician. And while Dad and his buddies may have been busted a time or two for lingering too long at their favorite lunch joint there is no doubt that the phone company is where dad honed the work ethic that was instilled by his father. The phone company also provided the stoic man I knew a place to find his voice as his shop's Union Steward. Dad took very seriously his role of representing fellow employees in grievance hearings.


Dad served his community in more ways than I can mention here, not only because he enjoyed it, but because he felt it his duty to help where possible. He worked with Habitat for Humanity, first as a volunteer worker than as a board member. He took great joy in watching people work towards fulfilling their dream of home ownership. Dad served on numerous fair housing boards and also volunteered at the Parish's homeless shelter because he felt a safe place to call home, even if only temporarily, was something that everyone deserved.


Dad also spent many hours working in this very building, donating his time and energy to his beloved St. Francis parish. Since his retirement from the phone company Dad spent most Mondays volunteering here, lending his knowledge and strong back to the maintenance team. The school PA system, the new parish center, the lights dangling above you right now and many other items on these grounds have Dennis Hailey's stamp on them. Dad was also a devoted member of the collection counting team and within the last couple of years found one of his new passions, the church's sister parish, La Merced, in Nicaragua. On two trips to Managua, which for Dad were part mission, part vacation, he had wonderful experiences that he truly treasured. He was very much looking forward to another volunteer venture this summer.


Dad was quick to help his friends and neighbors. He, at times, was sort of the neighborhood handyman dispensing advice and cleaning up messes for those who didn't know a wing nut from a coconut. He'd lend a hand hauling furniture or repairing electronic equipment or assisting with a science fair project. And usually all it would cost you was a beer and being the butt of some good-natured ribbing.


These have all been facts about my dad. Important pieces of his life, no doubt, but not what I will remember most. I'll remember the man who was a complete contradiction of terms. He was laid back, but hard working. He procrastinated on starting a project, but was a careful craftsman. He kept a sloppy work truck, kept many of his account records in his head and has a garage full of tape measures because whenever he couldn't find one he'd buy another, yet Dad was a stickler for details. Dad never missed an opportunity to needle me about rolling through a stop sign, wondering aloud when they started making yield signs with 8 sides. He relished pointing out that saying PIN number was redundant and I can promise you that if they get the Daily Times delivered in Heaven he checked yesterday's obituary for typos. These are the things I will remember.


I will remember the dedicated husband who stood side by side with my mom for nearly 39 years honorably raising two boys who lacked nothing in their upbringing. I'll remember the man who worked overtime and took night classes so upon retirement he could open his own business that could simultaneously pay the bills and allow him the freedom to work when and how he wanted. Dad grew this business into something I don't even think he expected. Despite the fact that he never took my advice to make his electrical truck look "cool" by painting lightening bolts on the side of it, this one-man gang grew so popular that loyal customers would wait weeks or months for Dad's services instead of finding another electrician. I'll remember the family man who used the freedom of his retirement to visit far-flung relatives, lending a hand on projects large and small. I'll remember the hard worker who nearly single-handedly remodeled my first house because I was qualified to be nothing more than a gopher.


And I'll remember most distinctly the grandfather that adored his three grandchildren. He routinely joked that he couldn't wait to have grandkids so he could fill them with candy, wind them up and send them home to mom and dad. And while he fiercely protected his grandkids, his joke wasn't far from the truth as I think the grandkids had Grandpa wrapped securely around their fingers.


In fact, it was his most recent and last interaction with one of his grandchildren that perfectly illustrates for me the way my Dad lived for 59 years. Last Sunday, my wife and I both had to work so Mom and Dad were babysitting our daughter. Mom was a bit under the weather, so my Dad took Grace to a friend's birthday party. It didn't matter that he barely knew anybody attending the party. It didn't matter that he would have to single-handedly chase Grace around. He did it without hesitation because he knew it was important to us and that it would make Grace happy. Simple as that. He gave and asked nothing in return.


I could fill these pages with a hundred more stories or memories like this, but I don't have to because most of you wouldn't be here today if you didn't have your own. So I'll close with this:


My dad had two sayings that always stuck with me. One, which he often used to calm a family of hypochondriacs, was that, "I'll worry when there is something to worry about." The other was that, "When your number is up, your number is up." It didn't matter how careful or safe you tried to be, when it was your time to go, it was your time to go. Well, on Tuesday my dad's number was called. But the beauty of it is now he has nothing to worry about ever again because thanks to his faith and his contributions to this world, he has moved to the next to enjoy the eternal rest that he has earned.