walter's funeral

Death is never a happy occasion. 

But when someone lives a full live, graduates Harvard Law at age 22, raises a family, has a long and good marriage, is immensely successful, is revered in his field, is a published author (his last book was published when he was 91), is a founder of Albert Einstein College of Medicine, is mobile and articulate to the very end, suffers little, and dies at 95 — well, that deserves more celebration than mourning.

Today I go to the funeral of Walter, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law’s father.  It ‘s too bad there can’t be pre-funerals.  Everyone deserves at least one day in their life to hear the good things people think about them — the stories that stand out, the influencers they’ve had, the small anecdotes that contribute to the being of a person.

Walter was brilliant.  The more intricate the problem, the more he liked dissecting and solving it.  He was a businessman’s lawyer, and no deal was too difficult for him to negotiate.

He loved his wife Lucille, who died thirteen years ago.  But at age 83, he befriended a bevy of woman twenty or so years his junior.  One of them spoke today; they had become, as she put it, “best friends.”  When he turned 90, they planned a party for him at the Friar’s Club.  The guest list included 28 woman and Walter.

Those who spoke all described him as having a sharp wit and a commanding personality.  He was the master of every ship he sailed, and he sailed many.

I knew Walter, but not well.  Today I got to know him better.