The Image of My Father Jerry Jr.

These may be the most important words that I will ever be asked to say, but I am at a loss on what to say to honor my father.  I mean:
• There are so many ways a father impacts the life of his son.  
• And there is no way a son can thank a father for all the things that he has done for him and taught him.

So please forgive me, because there are no words that I will be able to recall and assemble to capture all the things my father has meant to you or me.

There is no single image that I can provide which will capture the true essence of my Dad.  But when I do try to think of an photo that best fits the image of my Father today, the one that comes to mind is of a man riding his trusted steed - a yellow tractor - with his determined smile, and a confident look in his eyes that what he was about to do was going to make something better.
The image a son keeps of his father often changes in time, and this was the case for me.
• When I was little, I saw my father as a superhero, strong, confident, and invincible.  He would do physically daring feats that were beyond my imagination.  He was so strong, and his hands were so large that when I held one I could not grab it with mine, and resorted to holding onto one of his enormous fingers.  I trusted in him completely.
• When I became a teenager, it would be harder to see him in the same light. I was certain that the whole “adult-thing” was easier than he made it seem, certain that my journey down the road of life would seem effortless in comparison.
• Funny thing happens when you become an adult, and then become a parent yourself; suddenly your parents seem to become smarter again as you look back to consider how graceful and effortlessly they were able to deal with the demands of life.  Eventually - and it took me longer than I would like to admit - I learned that most everything  my Dad suggested to me was right, and I really just needed to start listening.  When I came to that realization, my Dad once again took his rightful place as my role model, and even as an adult, he seemed invincible to me.  How could he be less than that?  

This fall, he came to visit.  But he got board because I did not have any projects planned for him.  So he took out the ladder at my house to fix something that was just a little off.  Three hours later, he was standing on the top of that ladder, holding a tree branch in one hand and a chain saw in the other, cutting and pruning trees that he felt needed to be corrected in one way or another.  And I, the much younger limb carter, was getting exhausted dragging the branches he cut away.  After the second hour I remember thinking to myself, “He has got to stop soon.  He cannot just keep going like this.”  Fortunately, for the trees, and me, we eventually ran out of gas for the chainsaw.

So, I was stunned when I heard last week that my father might not be invincible after all.  In fact, like my sisters and my mother, I simply refused to believe it.  When I stepped back from the sadness I felt for myself, my mother, Teri, Gae, all of his family, and all of his friends, I was glad that my father was able to go out on his own terms.  For while he loved to help others, he did not like to receive it.  This man, known for doing the hard work he loved, went out twice to enjoy some golf –twice!  After his second round, he went home.  I would like to believe he was thinking about the fun vacation he and my mother were preparing for, when he collapsed and went to sleep. While we would plead for him to wake up and come home with us, he was already where he wanted to be.  Back with the other parts of his family that had gone before him.  Letting us know he would be there for us when we were ready to follow him.

I am incapable of describing all the things my father meant to me; I have no way to express how much I will miss him.  His love was my safety net.  I always knew he would pick me up whenever I needed help.  So while I wish I was able to do this better to honor him better all I can really say is:
I love you Dad;
I'll miss you Dad;
Thank you Dad.

Gaetana's Eulogy
 
As most of you know, my Dad had very humble beginnings.  His family home in Italy had no electricity and no plumbing.  He had to drop out of school in the fifth grade upon the death of his older brother, to work.  My Dad came to the United States at the age of 18 with nothing.  He and his family had no money and did not know any English.  They of course settled in Brooklyn.  My Dad took any job he could get to help support his family.  One of the first jobs was setting up bowling pins.  I think that is where he became so fond of the game.  His other jobs followed the stereotypical Italian immigrant career path, construction.  He was a fast study and quickly became a union worker.  He had no time to attend school of any kind, so he taught himself the language.  
 
He met my Mom at a wedding in Brooklyn and quickly realized that he should marry her.  Women from his hometown in Italy were not that easy to come by, and no women raised in the United States would put up with his Italian shenanigans.  Eventually he started his own construction company of which he shared ownership with my Mom.  It was a true family business.  I started working for my Dad at the tender age of 10.  At 10, I had the strongest command of the English language and handled all of the company correspondence.   My Dad's job was to do the work, and my Mom's job (which was by far the hardest) was to make sure my Dad did not offend too many people and get kicked off projects.  Turns out this was all he needed, his business was very successful.
 
Although he only had a limited formal education, he was one of the smartest men you could ever meet, and he made sure you knew that.  He could build anything and his way was always the right way.  It always was, and was so at the expense of much higher educated men.  I went to college and had other jobs, but decided at the point that my parents' business grew rather large, to work for them full-time.  Working for my parents and my Dad, in particular was an adventure.
 
One day my Dad and I went to a meeting for a multimillion dollar job that we were completing for the LIRR.  All of the men attending were dressed in nice suits and polished shoes.  My Dad, true to form came in wearing shorts, a short sleeve white shirt with a pocket protector, black socks and sandals.  He did not look like the smartest person in the room, but he was.  He was not dressing to impress, he was doing his job to impress and it always worked.  Although he was the boss, he was always on site working with his guys.  My Dad led by example.  He didn't just talk about hard work, he did it.
 
My Dad believed that there was nothing that hard work could not fix.  His method to raising children was to keep them scared of you and keep them working.  There was no sleeping in on Saturday mornings in our house.  Unlike regular American households where people slept until 9 on Saturday, Dad made sure you were up at 7 with something to do.  No need to figure out what to do, he would find something.
 
The other really special part about growing up in an Italian immigrant family was that dating was really not allowed.  Marriage was mandatory, but the in between steps were forbidden.  That was very hard to explain to a potential suitor.  I never really did explain my family to Bob until he was faced with my Dad chasing him down the road for keeping me out late.  Upon really meeting my Dad, even he realized that there was no dating in my house, just marriage.
 
When my Dad sold his business and decided to retire, he was a little worried about what he would do since he had no hobbies.  When my Mom suggested they buy a house in Florida to spend the winters, he fought her.  She eventually got her way and he loved being there.  He told me that he thought he could be good at golf because he was really good at hitting the head of a nail with a sledgehammer.  He was right as indicated by the hole in one he got last year, and by the loving patience he had teaching my son Michael his retirement hobby.
 
His retirement did not last very long since he had to take over the nursery he started with his younger brother Pat, upon Pat's death.  He never complained about working seven days a week, even though he was doing something that was never his strong suit, retail sales.  My Dad was not cut out for that kind of job.  First of all he had a problem with the retailer's motto that the customer is always right.  Customers and vendors found themselves in a hard place dealing with his thick Italian accent and the fact that he was almost completely deaf.  Given these obstacles, he, my Mom and my sister went to work every day and made the best of the situation.
 
My Dad could be stubborn and hard to get along with, just ask anyone who ever worked for him.  But my Dad was also the kindest, most generous man you could ever meet, and it has been my honor to be his daughter.
 
I will miss you, Dad.

In the deep dark basement of a lonely old store
Graffiti on the walls, echoing footfalls from
Above, in the light, with the flowers, and the sight
Of a strong old man peddling propane
Tending plants, selling flowers, often in vain
As the cars flew by on the busy lane.

We're just playing around- I'm spray painting 
Mikey's using a grinder, and he's straining 
To sharpen a knife, danger seems rife
To the outside observer, he's risking his life
But we know we're secure, our grandpa's at the door
And even if he knew, we're sure he'd want us to explore.

So we pass the time by as he turns a blind eye
And we say our goodbyes, go back to our lives
Where danger is serious, but we face it with experience
By ourselves, alone now, no safety nets, no insurance
But I can't shake the feeling that somewhere he's aware
List'ning, if not watching, like he'd just gone upstairs.

sorry for you lost, praying for you and your family

So sorry for your loss, We will  always remember Uncle Jerry's beautiful  smile . God Bless Love Susan Papszycki  and Brittany Imbriale

You have our deepest sympathies. You and your family are in our thoughts and prayers.

I'm sorry for your loss.  May God bless and comfort you and your family.

Praying for your family during this time of loss. Trust in the Lord to comfort & keep you.

our thoughts and prayers are with you all at this difficult time, we will always cherish the memories we shared.

Thank you Dad. I will always carry your heart in my heart

May your hearts soon be filled with wonderful memories of joyful times together as you celebrate a life well lived. The family is in my thoughts and prayers through this difficult time. God bless you.

We are praying that you find comfort and peace during this time. Many prayers and love being sent your way.

Our deepest sympathies in the loss of your beloved husband, father and grandfather. May God bless and keep you in his care through this difficult time. Much love and prayers for peace and healing of your hearts.

OBITUARIO

Gerardo De Santo

5 marzo, 1937 – 28 enero, 2012

James Funeral Home

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