A Father's Own Epitaph

M

y father, Gerald S. Murphy of Sagaponack, died in July 2001. I have always regretted not writing an obituary for him.

When he got the news that his cancer was terminal, he started writing his final instructions for his family. One request was not to publish his obituary right away, in case there were “crooks” out there waiting to prey on the grieving family. After some time passed, I kept putting off the task, since he lived a full and accomplished life, and the task to sum it up seemed daunting. My father was a very prolific letter writer, and I often wished he would have written his own obituary before he went. (He did design and order his headstone.) When I lived out of state for 10 years, I received at least one letter a week from him, filled with news and fatherly advice. I am very glad I saved most of them, since reading them makes me feel he’s alive again.

Sorting through some of his old personal papers one day, I found a rough draft of a letter he had written to his father, containing a memoriam he had written in his honor. I don’t know if he ever sent it. Reading my father’s words about

his

father was touching, and his sentiments mirrored my feeling for him.

I got my wish. My father wrote his own memoriam.

•

Dear Dad,

In the tradition of the Irishman who paid for his wake before he died and ran a rehearsal because he hated to miss a good party, I herewith submit a first draft of your memoriam. That is, if someone asks. Most of the time, as we all know, no one asks.

Remembering My Father—his son’s reflections:

My father left today. Though he knew that his destination was supposed to be better than here, he left reluctantly. That’s because he knew the pain that this would cause all whom he left behind.

My father was not a quiet man or a passive man. I hope that he doesn’t start an argument at the gates with St. Peter, just because the line moves slow and there is no special preference for senior citizens. If he has any trouble that way, it will be because he won’t admit that if you are a youngster of 85 or so, it doesn’t matter much with a gatekeeper who is more than 1,960 years old, and may be a little irritable.

It took a great many years of living to realize how much life had disappointed my father. I know that he wanted to give his only son everything without ever having to say “no.” But he gave all he could give, and a little more, but still had to say, “No, we can’t afford that.” By my lights, I had everything I ever really needed, plus a lot more than money can buy. But fathers judge themselves by a harsher standard than their sons do.

I never knew him to be unkind or unfair to an individual regardless of his race, color or creed. I think he was ahead of his time. If we all acted as he did, what would be left of all the intolerance in the world?

He was, without a doubt, a male chauvinist, and a gentleman. He paid for the first by not being able to boil water when hungry. And for the second by having found a wonderful wife. Talk about being lucky!

I hope that I made him proud that I was his son. I know that I couldn’t have asked for a better father. And I guess I couldn’t ask for a better epitaph when my children say goodbye to me. It is the only real and lasting accomplishment in this life, far more than money, fame or property. He loved the sea, and I think the sea would agree with that. I know that when at sea in the Navy, that is the feeling I got.

If my father was the best-loved man in his community, I’d be surprised. If he was the most respected, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. He certainly had a good turnout at the wake. A great many men pass through life. Some leave it as they found it. Some make it a little better for all. Many make it worse. He was one of those who made it better.

I loved him. He was noisy, loud, opinionated, concerned, caring, vain, hypochondriac, loving, self-centered, selfless. In a word, a man. And, I loved him and miss him. But I know he will be waiting for me if I can walk in his footsteps.

Ecce Hominem, Requiem in Pacem.

Gail Murphy is a resident of Sagaponack.