This weekend marks the one year anniversary of my fathers passing away. The following is the eulogy I read for him at his service.

For Those Amongst Us

By Al Horn

Welcome to those who are now gathered. We have come together to remember a man that touched all our lives. His passing has brought its share of sorrow. His time on earth brought its share of joy, hope, and understanding.

For many people it is easy to recollect the moments of joy that an individual brought to them in some action or words said at just the right time. For some it is just as easy to recall the moments that an individual made their lives miserable. When it came to my father, I have met many people who have positive memories of him. I can't honestly say that I have met anybody that didn't like him. Maybe that was because I was his son and they didn't want to hurt my feelings. I would like to think there isn't anybody who really had a bad thing to say about him.

My father was honest to a fault. He was also generous and compassionate. These traits endeared him to most anybody whose life he touched. Those same qualities are the reason I never hesitated to ask his counsel. Well, I must admit that wasn't always the case. Once I was old enough to realize I didn't know everything, I would seek out the one person who knew the answers or at least was honest enough to say he didn't instead of leading me down the wrong path.

If there is any truth to the old saying that opposites are attracted, then my father was proof. I think he always hoped for the best, privately. I grew up hearing of all the things that could go wrong in a situation. It was his way of counseling you to use caution. You couldn't help but hope he was wrong. In fact, when things would always turn out better in some way or another, you couldn't help but have faith in your own actions. When I was younger and would come back with how something had not gone as wrong as he predicted it could have, he would just smile, shrug his shoulders and give you a look that said 'hey, I'm happy for you'. That look would disarm any further comments.

That was something he was good at; disarming a situation. I'll repeat a story many of you have heard time and again. As a small child, I had fell and banged my head on some piece of furniture. It was only a bump and there was no blood involved. Still I went crying to my father as if the world was about to come to an end. After calming me enough to get a somewhat coherent statement, he simply said: "well, don't do that". I was dumbfounded. That wasn't the response I expected or had hoped for. By the time I got myself together to try and respond, I realized I didn't hurt anymore and there was no good response. I am quite fond of repeating that statement; as my family and many coworkers will attest.

I think that most all would agree that my father was a great mediator. He did a fairly good job of keeping the peace in our family as I grew up. I saw him act as go between in disputes between members of his own family and members of my mom's family. He didn't always have the right answers. In many cases he would help the quarrelling parties to find their own answers. And when no answers could be found, I don't think he gave up hope that one couldn't be found. I think he believed that if nothing else, time could heal any wound.

Yes, I would be fair to say that my father could almost always be counted on to say something unexpected. It was a gift. It made most people stop and think for a second and almost always put a smile on your face.

Moments after my daughter Heather was born, I hoped that I could be as good a father to her as mine had been to me. Later, as I tried to be a father to her and her brother from a distance, I came to understand many of the things he had told me.

If he was sitting here among you now, and for all we know he is, he would be shrugging his shoulders and smiling. Yeah, that's what my DAD would be doing.