In Loving Memory of my dear Grandpa, Neal Berghoef
April 20 1922- January 21 2014
(The eulogy I wrote and shared at my grandpa's funeral on Saturday, January 25, 2014)
One of the things
I will miss the most about my Grandpa is his voice. Not the voice of the past few years, the
voice of Parkinson’s and age, but the voice of my childhood. It was a strong, robust voice, with his
characteristic Dutch brogue. I heard it throughout
my childhood: on the phone, in prayers which often seemed far too long, in
mayoral speeches, and in what our family lovingly called “campaigning” long
after his mayoral years—working the church narthex or the dining area at
Russ’s, before eventually returning to our table. The voice that asked me well into my 20s if I
was still growing (and I had to bite my tongue from replying “No Grandpa,
you’re shrinking.”) That is the voice I
will remember.
But what spoke
louder than that dear voice were my Grandpa’s actions. His actions were loud, louder than that voice
(which is saying something , because he could be pretty loud). His actions were
so loud, they had a voice of their own.
They said (in no particular order):
●
Love and respect each other.
●
Honor God in whatever you do.
●
Nothing beats a good cup of coffee, and when
good coffee isn’t available, just find coffee.
●
Fight for the underdog.
●
Live simply.
●
Educate yourself (and that doesn’t just mean
school).
●
When you speak, speak with conviction.
●
Spend time in nature.
●
Seek out ways to serve.
●
Make beautiful things.
●
Take risks.
●
Embrace change.
●
Enjoy your food.
●
Roll up your sleeves and work hard.
●
Travel.
●
Take care of your community.
●
Help those who are less fortunate.
And in the past
days, I’ve been thinking about my family- what you all--my parents, my aunts
and uncles, my brother and sister in law, my cousins—on what I see all of you doing. As you all interact with your spouses, as you
go to graduate school, as you find jobs, as you raise your children, as you
travel through your lives. And I hear
Grandpa’s voice and see his loud actions in what all of you are doing. And it’s not because that’s what he told you
to do, it’s because in your hearts it’s what you want to do. And that is our Grandpa’s true legacy.
Grandpa, we
love you. You set the bar incredibly
high for us and we are so grateful. We
cannot wait until we see you again. Well
done, good and faithful servant.
