It‘s a mid- November Saturday in Detroit.  Sunny, cold and blustery.  I am standing at a podium in a Unitarian church delivering the eulogy at my father’s memorial service. It is the expected duty of the oldest surviving child and one I gladly accepted – in a sad sort of way.

I’m usually comfortable with public speaking and yet I know that this one is going to be very different. I even practiced it the previous night – something I rarely do these days.

I begin speaking – voice cracks a little – deep breath – lame joke but it gets lots of laughs.  Now everyone can relax a little – especially me.

The room is fan shaped and I move my gaze from left to right as I begin.  To my left is my Dad’s second ex-wife.   She divorced him when she decided she was a lesbian. She is 27 years his junior and there was a family story there for many moons.  Her partner is with her. Amends have been made long ago.

In the center  is his current girlfriend of many years. She too is some 15 or 20 years younger.  A former Miss Denmark from the 1950’s and still a very attractive and with-it woman.

On the right side of the fan is his paramour of 50+ years who now lives in the southwestern part of the U.S.  I kind of knew she existed ever since I was in high school back in the 60’s.  She resurfaced after I had sent a brief death notice to Dad’s entire email contact list. She made it clear that she was coming to the memorial service even though she knew his current girl friend would be there – if I thought it would be okay.  She promised to “not make a scene.”  Until that comment it never occurred to me that she might.  Turns out she had been to see Dad several times in the previous year and they had rekindled their 50-year flame.

I had decided the previous night to not acknowledge any of them by name or reference.  Didn’t want to hurt any feelings or stir up anything.  As I proceeded with the eulogy I mentioned my mother, then I mentioned his deceased third wife who had also been a Unitarian church member and some knew her. I then individually acknowledged the three women in the room and commented how each had been special to my father. None of that was in the script. It just felt right.

It is what my father would have wanted.  Really.  All of them in his house – again – peacefully and his oldest son taking care of things quietly and discreetly. I have learned much in the past year about my father’s personal life that I never knew and never needed to know.  But she needed to tell me – and so it’s okay.  Nobody else knows. 

It will end that way because I have no need to tell anyone.  And it was my Dad’s life anyway.  And I always loved my Dad.  And it is now one year since he died. 

I am sad tonight and miss him terribly and it is all okay.  Really.  Just sad.  But thanks for listening to my little story. I feel better.