For the few of you who may not be in the know, Dan's heroic struggle ended on July, 25th 2011.
To say that these past few weeks have been hard would be the understatement of the century. Mom, me and Dan, our wives and Dad's entire network of family and friends have been trying to figure out how we're supposed to go on without the spark that was my father in our lives. His presence was one we always appreciated, never took for granted, and is very sorely missed.
Mom has asked me to make one final post on Dad's blog. She wanted me to share with you folks the eulogy I said at Dad's funeral on July 29th. I'm going to post that first and then share a few final thoughts that I'm sure Dad would have wanted expressed on his blog below.
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Eulogy for Dan Lyons by Joe Lyons
First, I'd like to thank all of you for being here. The sheer number and quality of people that are here today to celebrate Dan's life and honor is passing is truly humbling to me and the rest of our family. I know that if Dad were here, he'd be speechless...for once. I know that he would have a kind word, a warm hug, and at least one fond memory of each and every one of you. He may not be here to say it himself, but I know in my heart how grateful he is.
A eulogy is a cruel thing to ask of a loved one. In a few brief moments, I have to do my best to some up the breadth of my father's entire life and for those of us who knew Dad, that's an impossible task. Though he was taken from us far too early, Dad crammed enough life into his years that would last the most of us until we were 145. Even in these last 2 years.
Two years. For two years, Dad conquered an obstacle that, on average, claims most within months of discovering it. Over these last 2 years, Dad really exemplified what it was to live. He took my Mom to Disneyworld...twice. He saw his two boys marry the loves of their lives. He did and said so much in the blessing that was these last two years that I don't know how I can ever live up to the standards he didn't know he was setting. Dan made sure that he touched as many people as he possibly could until it was time for him to leave us. Of course, it's not really enough for all of us, is it? We all got the gift of these last 2 years, but I think it's safe to say that, if we could, we'd demand 200 more.
So how do I properly eulogize my Dad? He was my loving and wonderful father, but he was so many things to so many people, beyond just being my Dad. Mom, he was your husband. He would have walked to the ends of the Earth for you, especially if he thought there was something with Jiminy Cricket on it to bring right back to you. You were his partner. You were his friend. And between the two of you, you made humanity's most handsome sons.
Dan, he was your Dad too. You were the Little Dan to his Big Dan and even though he's not here anymore, I'm sorry, but you'll continue to be Little Dan. He was always your coach and your friend. When he got sick, you were there for him and when you got sick, he was there for you. He was so proud of everything you accomplished and whill continue to be for ever and ever.
Dan was still more than that. Jim and John, he was your brother. No matter what, he was so proud to be your big brother and regardless of anything, he loved you so very much. Dan was a powerful friend. A brother-in-arms to the people that shared his passions. An uncle. A cousin. A son. A hopeless romantic. He was the guy all of the little kids loved to play with and he'd be the first to buy you a Guinness and listen to your stories. He was our inspiration and our pal. Our on-call tech support guy and our movie expert. A collector. An Irishman. A fan. And one terrific model American.
So I can't write one eulogy to cover all of us. It's impossible. He was too great and too much to too many. So, I want to say one thing on the one job I knew he would have loved at, but never got a chance to do. He was going to be a grandfather. I know how much Dad was looking forward to being a grandfather and it breaks my heart that he can't be with us phsyically when the time comes. And anyone in charge of the manufacture and sale of Notre Dame onesies has just lost a dramatic amount of money. Before he passed away, my wife and I got to his side in time to tell him the name of his grandson. I needed to share it with him before he went on his way and knowing him...he probably wasn't crazy about it. I can't tell all of you what the name is, since that's between me, Dad, and Sarah at the moment, but I do want to share with you the letter I wrote to my future son. In order to protect his identity, I will be referring to him as Dilbert. I promise you, that's not the name.
Dear Dilbert,
I lost my Dad today, so please put down the nunchucks or whatever it is you're doing in there and listen to the story I have to tell you. His name was Dan. Some people called him Dad, others called him Meatball, I called him Daddoo. You would have called him Grandpop. He knew who you were before you got here and he loved you so very much. Even when we didn't know if you were going to be a pirate or a princess, Dad immediately knew, you were going to be a pirate. He's also the one to blame for your father's upsettingly skinny wrists.
I'm so sorry that you never got to meet him. I wish that he could tell you his own stories, but now you're going to have to hear them from me for the rest of my life and I promise you I'll try to make them good. He grew up in Philadelphia. He had fantastic friends that stayed with him, even up until his last moments. He went on adventures. He even went to Woodstock, but I'll tell you those stories when you're much older. He met your Grandmom and he fell in love. He married her and loved her more and more every day for 37 years. He had two boys, your father and your Uncle Danny. He was a great Dad to have and I promise you I'll try to be just as good as he was. We played games and made snow forts. He would make pizza dogs for lunch when Mom wasn't home and showed us how to be funny. We watched thousands of movies together and I wouldn't trade any moment I got to spend with your Grandpop for anything. He got very sick, but even when things were at their worst, he always had a smile and a joke for anyone lucky enough to cross his path. He fought bravely and will always be remembered by everyone he knew. And now that he's gone, he's there looking over you now. God had a guardian angel already picked out for you, but I think it's safe to say that Grandpop is now on the job.
I promise to try to be as good a Dad as he was. I promise to tell you all about Grandpop whenever you want to hear about him and maybe you can help me grow up to be as good a man as he was. Now stop kicking your mother.
Love, Dad.
Once again, thank you all so much for being here. My family is forever indebted to the kindness you have shown us on this day. Dan will be greatly missed, but he's already put his thumbprint on all of our hearts and the only way can pay him back is to be as good to others as he was to us. I miss you so mcuh, Daddoo. Thank you so much for everything. You were my father, you were my teacher, but I'm so grateful and honored that you were also my friend. I love you.
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So now here we all are, in a world without Dan Lyons. This blog was a good bit of therapy for him, since it allowed him to write out the dangers and the treatments he was up against. I think seeing them in print made them easier to face. He always appreciated all of the comments and notes he got on this blog, because I know that any kind word would always lift his spirit and for that, I thank you all so much.
This blog was really a testament to Dan's bravery and fortitude. I don't know if I would ever be able to face the odds that Dad faced and display the courage, grace, and will that he did over these 2 years. Even after more than 30 years of being his son, he never stopped surprising me and giving me a new reason to look up to him.
Dad always ended his posts with this symbol:
I made this symbol for him on his request not long after he started his blog. And really, it sums up what Dan was all about. Ever the child of the 60s, Dad was proud of the peace and love that he experienced in his life and tried his best to spread peace and love wherever he could.
And really, there's no better way that we can all honor him. Live courageously like Dan and always have a heart filled with peace and love. Even though Dan's not here anymore, this is a battle that cancer has lost, because even though it claimed his life, it unleashed his spirit into all of our hearts and nothing, not even cancer, can ever put that out.
Thank you all so much for reading this and for all of the love and support you have given our family. When times are at their toughest, life has a funny way of showing you how much love that can be had.
On behalf of my mother, my brother, my family and myself; PEACE and LOVE.
I love you, Daddoo.
- Joe Lyons 08/22/2011
