Eulogy for Al
By L.M. Perrault
Smashwords Edition
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How do we celebrate Al's life? By some accounts, it was a life lived fully. By other accounts, a life lived on the edge.
Rumor has it that the man was flawed. As his younger sister, I have to admit I never noticed any flaws. I was forever happy just to linger about in his formidable shadow. His passing, though, has prompted reflection on his life and the very idea of imperfect individuals.
Al flawed? Well, he was scarred at the very least. The scar twisted its way up from his thumb to the middle of his arm, from major surgery as a young teen. He and our younger sister Keri, about five at the time, were horsing around in the kitchen. Al was chasing a giggling Keri around the table, when she suddenly tripped. There was a piece of jagged glass on the floor that Keri was about to fall on - face first. As Al pushed Keri aside, his hand landed directly on the large glass shard, cutting a major tendon. Keri escaped unscathed. Al never did regain full use of his thumb. And they say the man was flawed.
There are less heroic tales to tell; of a cancer-stricken brother telephoning a sister living alone in Japan - calling her every month for several years just so she wouldn't feel isolated. Even through the pain, up until a week before he died, he had telephoned. "How are YOU doing," he'd ask. "How was YOUR week?" And they say the man was flawed.
I could go on about a dying man who once crawled under the broken down car of his young female hospice worker to make the necessary repairs. About a dying son, wanting so much to help his retired mother that he, on the very day of having minor surgery to close up his tracheotomy, insisted on doing landscaping for her - holding a finger to the opening on his throat as he bent down to lay border stones. And they say the man was flawed.
If Al were flawed then he'd be in good company. There were persistent rumors that our much beloved grandfather, Charlie, had in his earlier years lived life on the edge. Yet as my brother and sisters will attest, gramps shined brighter than most in our eyes. We share a childhood of weekend visits to gramps' cottage, of fishing, swimming, and playing cards into the small hours of the night. Gramps was a beacon to all of his grandkids, yet they say the man was flawed.
As I reflect on this idea of flawed individuals it occurs to me that perhaps a different view is in order. Take the Japanese perspective on art, for instance. Dents and rough edges in Japanese pottery aren't considered defects. In fact, they are purposely worked into the artwork, valued for the added dimension they give the piece. Traditional Japanese paper isn't bleached flawlessly white. Rather, bits of discolored pulp are peppered throughout, adding depth to the craftwork. From the Japanese perspective that which would normally be dismissed as imperfection actually adds value - character if you will.
They say that Al, like his grandfather before him, was flawed. That's certainly one way to look at someone who has lived life on the edge. I choose to see Al as both being a character and as having character.
As I end this tribute to Al, I'd like to ask my children, Becky, David, and Matt to be just a little bit flawed like their uncle Al. Be- and have - the character of uncle Al and great-grandfather Charlie. To my nephews, I ask that you continue in the fine family tradition - be a little bit flawed. To my niece - Al's daughter - go ahead and feed that rumor mill. To all of you - live your life fully, yet allow yourself to live, every once in awhile, on the edge. And from that edge, take in the view. I hear it's intoxicating….
To my gloriously flawed brother Al on this, the fourth anniversary of your passing...I miss being in the light of your shadow. In loving memory, L.M. Perrault