This summer will be  a period of transition, as I knew it would be with Sasha aging out of the public school system this coming July.  And while I had much time to contemplate the eventual reality of other shifts to the family dynamic, I still found myself ill prepared for the recent loss of my Father, who passed early Saturday morning, June 8th.

As I ponder these new phases, which I’ll share more with you in the coming weeks, I thought I’d first offer some sentiments about my Father as I survey this new chapter in parenting Sasha.

Below is a link to my Dad’s obituary as well as the words I spoke at St. George’s Greek Catherdral yesterday morning.  I want to thank Father Mike Wilson for providing my brothers and I both the opportunity to speak as well as such compassionate support and genuine kindness during this time.

http://www.tributes.com/obituary/read/William-J.-Makris-107178187?fbclid=IwAR2Cmxg-WR2vHT8AwfV3BtbCz9d2BeTX3g0u8cP9CNBXQ2Fdf5R5kpffKoA

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Good Morning. Thank you all so much for coming today.  I realize that we’re all still in the early days of navigating this loss, but for me at present loosing someone like my Dad feels mostly like a ship that’s anchor has been lifted while also being informed at the same time that the ship has no captain.  And yet if our parents do a good job, they provide us with the tools to navigate this life on our own, with strength, knowledge and independence, which I know my Father (and my Mother) have done.

Still, having someone like my Father around was very reassuring.  He was a quiet leader in that he wasn’t one to offer direct advice yet you always knew what he felt the prudent decision was.  He was stoic but ever since I was a little girl, I considered him to be such a dynamic individual.

Dad had an interest in so many things.  The New Yorker Magazine, US and World History, politics and volunteering for campaigns, researching products in Consumer Reports Magazine and driving the Kancamagus Highway. He loved The Tour De France and German Automobiles, LL Bean and the Atlantic ocean,  New England sports teams, Fritz Wetherbee,  A Prairie Home Companion, and 1965 Mustang Fastbacks.

Throughout these past several weeks I’ve of course reminisced on so many memories with our Dad.  Visiting the LL Bean flagship store in Freeport Maine, driving the hair pin turn on the Kancamagus highway (which he would explain to me was one of the very few times you won’t gas it going into a turn). Studying audio products in stores like Lechmere’s and Service Merchandise – with me as a young child never understanding the concept of entering a store and leaving empty handed.  When on longer road trips he used to quiz me on recognizing out of state license plates.  Being more of an adventurous personality he would buy me gifts such as Archery sets, cross country skis and 20 gear racing bikes.  (I’m not sure what he expected of me there).  We’d grill steaks at the ocean and then catch an air show at Pease Airforce Base or go to the movies on dreary days.  Every Valentine’s Day he would buy me a box of chocolates and for as long as I can remember up until he could no longer speak he called me sweetheart.

But more than anything I so enjoyed Dad’s quick wit.  I will never forget the time about 12 years ago when I excitedly told him we were getting our first puppy.  At the time my daughter was quite the handful, and upon hearing this news Dad looked around at no one in particular and said “A puppy?!  Why not get her a baby alligator and give it a fighting chance!”.  There was also the first visit with Dad after my daughter was born, when I asked what he’d like to be called.  “Pappous? “I offered.  “Grampie or Grampa?” I suggested.  “Maybe Gramps?”.  He looked at me slightly annoyed and simply responded “How about Bill”.

I think Dad would be pleased to know that I have a genuine interest in almost everything I’ve mentioned above (with the exception of the Tour de France, to be honest there is only so much one can watch of the chase for the yellow jersey).  My husband Mike can attest to my researching a vaccum cleaner purchase for nearly 9 months and there are ongoing jokes at my place of work about my Fritz Wetherbee fascination.

As Dad’s disease progressed, while none of us around him ever dwelled on it, it did take from him the ability to engage with so many of these interests.  On my last visit at the VA just before the approach of his final descent, a beautiful spring day had finally bloomed. I walked with Dad through the flower gardens and told him what each flower was.  I mentioned how there were clearly many more varieties yet to bloom and that we could come back and enjoy them throughout this spring. We then meandered to the upper parking lot where we stopped to look high above us at the state seal, US and military flags.  Dad was clearly moved.  I told him that next time I came down I’d bring my dog Stoli for the visit and sneak in some Metaxa (Greek Spirits).  (For the record I haven’t done so in many years).  Dad seemed pleased and I was looking forward to this last chapter with him.

Unfortunately that last chapter was cut a bit short.  But Dad provided his most everlasting life lesson in this difficult time.  He showed me that we can make plans but that they might not always pan out.  He lived that most teachable moment every single day for 25 years.   I hope he knows how strong this made us as his children, that the ships anchor will one day again be lowered and that we are forever grateful for his example.