A funeral. A eulogy. An ice storm. Evan Sagerman puts his father to rest.
My father died on Tuesday, February 1st. He was 92. As my brothers on the East Coast made the funeral arrangements, they assigned me the job of delivering the eulogy.
Jewish funerals take place as soon after death as possible, so the funeral was scheduled for Friday. Unfortunately, an ice storm was going to hit the Hudson River Valley that day, making travel impossible. Then on Wednesday my mother tested positive for COVID, making an indoor ceremony impossible. An outdoor, graveside ceremony was set for noon on Sunday.
The aftermath of an ice storm is usually broken tree limbs, downed power lines, and treacherous footing. The high temperature for Sunday was expected to be in the teens. Not a good time to gather outside.
As my wife graciously handled cross-country travel logistics, I worked on the eulogy. Below freezing temperatures meant I would need to keep it short. Everyone at the ceremony would be family, so I would skip formality. Grief hits unexpectedly and can screw up any reading, so I would write an outline and ad lib. Come Sunday, as we left our hotel for the cemetery, I felt as prepared as I could be.