Maura Gregory's Eulogy Notes

Maura’s Eulogy Notes
There are so many stories. Funny stories ABOUT Dad and
Funny stories TOLD by Dad.
He was a fabulous storyteller who held a captive audience
with his bellowing voice, his animated faces, and wild
gesticulations. And the stories were never the same twice.
As adept as he was at telling long winded tales, when Dad
wanted to relay something very important to us kids,
whether it be a life lesson (He’d raise his index finger and
say “Learn from This!”) or to express is love and support of
us, he always did so using a sparse amount of language.
As a freshman in College, I found my new environment
perplexing and difficult. I was surrounded by people who I
felt were nothing like me. They didn’t make decisions I
would have made, they often acted in a manner I found
immature and their values were not at all like mine. I was
convinced that this was not a good fit for me.
In late Oct/early Nov of my first year, I called home to
inform mom and dad that I had decided I didn’t belong at
school and wanted to come home and call it quits.
He heard me out – he was always a respectful listener. He
would always give me the space and time to say what it
was I wanted or needed to say.
First he told me it was too soon to make such a big
decision. I needed to wait at least a full semester, if not a
full year before I could really make an informed decision
about how I felt about JMU.
Then he began to probe me – why did I think after only 10
weeks there that I didn’t belong? He wanted specific
examples… So I told him no one seemed anything at all like
me. Most of the kids partied – A LOT. They lived for
fraternity parties and some did not even study (!) They
seemed to see things so completely different than I… and
they certainly didn’t have the same values and beliefs. I
rambled on about the many ways I did not fit in.
Dad said something to the effect that JMU was simply a
microcosm of the world. In life, there would be all kinds of
people I would meet and have to interact with - have to
work with – have to communicate with. And no – it is
NOT easy because everyone has different life experiences
and backgrounds and beliefs. He mentioned his own work
at the pentagon with both civilian and military personnel,
fellow Americans and those from other countries. Every
day he attempted to be able to effectively communicate
and negotiate with others to accomplish a common goal.
I heard him out and realized he had revealed to me a very
different perspective of my situation. One that made me
second-think my decision (though I still wanted to go
home).
I was quietly digesting what he was saying on my end of
the phone and he was quiet too for a bit.
Then he said, “Maur, let me ask you a question”. It was a
statement we heard often growing up. It meant, “listen
carefully, because I am going to turn things upside down
and impart you with wisdom.”
“Ok Dad… “
“Do YOU know who YOU are Maur?”
“Dad, of course I know who I am. This is not about me, but
about all the people surrounding me…”
“Maur – just answer the question. Do YOU know who YOU
are?”
“Yes, Dad. I know who I am”
Though we were on the phone, Dad’s voice was tender
and I could tell he was smiling when he quietly said, “Then
that’s all that matters, Maur.”
In just a few words, Dad made me totally re-consider the
way I had been looking at my situation. He was telling me
so much by saying so little. He was challenging me
because he believed in me.
I was instantly put at ease. I knew he was on my side, and
loved me unconditionally. I knew he would continue to
stand by me whenever I needed him.
Every time he helped me through a rough patch, he
communicated with me in very few but poignant words
that always left me feeling encircled in love.
At the end of his life, he was unable to verbally
communicate well – the brain tumor had affected his
speech - though he knew exactly what it was he wanted to
say. It was frustrating to him. It was frustrating to us. I
had envisioned having at least a few poignant last words
with Dad but, that never happened.
But in pure Ernie Gregory fashion, on the day of his death,
without even a word - he communicated to me and gave
me peace about his passing.
Dad and I loved classical music and his favorite song was
Nessun Dorma as sung by Luciano Pavarotti. It is from
Puccini’s opera Turandot – the name of the song means
more or less “No Sleep”.
When we were growing up, he would from time to time
play this as loud as the TV room speakers could handle and
the entire house would shake. He would sit with his eyes
closed and kind of conduct the song from his armchair
getting lost in the music. Each time the song reached its
climax, he would be reduced to tears.
October 5, 2016, was a beautiful autumn day – the back
door of my parents’ home was open and a gentle breeze
drifted through the rooms.
My brother Ernie had put on the Pandora station called
‘Italian Classics’ and that was playing softly in the
background.
All of us surrounded Dad’s hospital bed as his breathing
became more and more labored and the time in between
breaths grew longer and longer.
Though Dad could not verbally or otherwise say a final
goodbye to us, he did manage to send a very clear sign
that he wanted all of us to be at peace. Dad let go of this
life, taking his last breath while Nessun Dorma, sung by
Pavarotti, played on the radio.
We considered playing the song (at the memorial service) but
decided it would be better not to do so. It was our hope that as
everyone returned home and got back into their routines they
might find the song on itunes, a cd or even on vinyl and play it
very loudly while thinking of Dad.