The Grand Eulogy

My father passed away two years ago at the age of 60, and I wrote this the next day in an attempt to get out my feelings the only way I could figure how -- by using the characters I created. Unfortunately, such a choice also meant my having to face someone I based so heavily on him. Perhaps I made the choice specifically to deal with him, I'm not sure.

The things that follow this...prologue, I guess...are exactly as I wrote them that day, including the title, although I added a description of said Phil-based character. His funeral was held a month later and I didn't speak at it, but didn't want to go at first and referred to him as "your husband" while talking to mom.

My father has a gravestone at a veteran's memorial cemetery here in Florida. He was cremated, which I suppose was done because of how I last saw him -- as a twitching, barely-conscious husk of a shell of the man I once knew, who barely responded to anything any of us said (one of said responses was when I called him "David", the name his mother called him when he was a child; I explained afterward that I remembered mom mentioning it, and figured that it may work because we already tried everything else). I opted not to visit the hospital the next day, primarily because he had a bunch of tubes sticking out of him to keep him on life support; the thought of it disturbed me.

On the morning of February 21, my brother Charles and our friend Rich Karley went to read some scripture to Phil. By the time they got there, he was dead.

None of this is mentioned below; yes, I could've easily added them, but I wanted to preserve the exact emotions and feelings I was going through back then.

So here's to you, dad. Sixty years...I hope I live that long.

========================================

"In life, just as much as anything else, a great loss must be taken according to the field. In sports, a loss might mean very little in the long run; in Chess, a loss simply means that you must try harder, or examine your opponent more closely."

"But in life itself, a loss must be taken as it is. For some, even though the loss might be very close to them, they still cannot feel the emotion that everyone else does..."
-Mark Johnson XVII, Coping With A Loss, published 2014 (pg. 77)

====

"Daniel, I know it's hard to deal with," began a tall, blonde-haired woman as she paced around the small room. "But you have to deliver SOMETHING in his honor."

"Allura, I never really knew my father, okay?" he replied, turning toward her. "I mean, I know he loved me, but..."

Allura extended her arms around Daniel. "It's alright. When you're ready, you'll share." She then walked over to the door and opened it, preparing to leave Daniel to himself for a while-

"SURPRISE! I'VE GOT BOOBIES!"

"Grr.......NOT NOW, CHRISSIE!!!" Allura yelled, looking at the girl who had decided to dress herself in whipped cream and cherries.

"Oh, right...sorry, mother" she replied in a sad, yet childlike, tone. "You are almost nine hundred and sixty-seven years old, and I can't even expect you to act like everyone else for just one day?!"

"Yes, mother."

"It's hard-coded into her, Allura" Daniel replied, having heard the whole thing. "She was, essentially, brainwashed." He smiled. "But you have to admit that your daughter has grown up -- she isn't a Mary-Sue anymore."

The old woman scoffed. "Yes, yes, whatever..." she mumbled as she walked out of the room, taking Chrissie with her. "Sam said he'd come to see you."

"DON'T YOU DARE-!"

But she had gone, the door closed.

====

"Well, growing up he was either drunk or otherwise not around; he wouldn't even play games with me."

"Hm" replied a young boy, shuffling his feet. "I didn't know my dad too well, either. 'Course, that's hardly similar-"

"Yes, because unfortunately for you, your father was-"

"Yeah, yeah, CAN WE NOT GO INTO THAT?!"

Daniel turned to the boy, blinking a few times. "Yeah...my apologies, Soval."

"No prob', Doc."

Daniel turned sharply to him, although suddenly his face drooped. "Never mind. Your mom's probably looking for you -- probably wants you to clean the stuff off your sister."

Soval stared at Daniel. "Pfft, yeah.....like my mom will ask me to do that! Chrissie will get it on with anything that doesn't put up a fight!"

The other turned around, facing the door. "One, Allura is getting senile -- I think we can all agree on that."

Soval smirked.

"And two, in the event that your sister wants you to show the strength your father did (which is pretty disturbing, given that it was how you were born), fight against it. PLEASE. The last thing we need is incest, a fact that your sister has never picked up on. Ever."

"She's your sister, too!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't born from Allura's-"

"Sovaaalll~" cooed a sweet voice from outside the room. "Mother wants you to wash me off!~"

Soval shuddered as he exited the room...

====

"They fought...my parents fought so often, Mew. They really did. And for what?! Really, for what?!? A few pennies here, the ability to save a failed marriage there?!"

A small, pink arm reached out, its hand wiping away one of Daniel's tears. "It's alright, Mister Benfield" replied a soft, soothing male voice. "I sometimes wonder if it's good for Mrs. McCoy and Miss MaCockenshipiel to fight as they do. Granted, it isn't as often, but..."

Mew smiled a bit. "They do remind me of your parents. I wish...."

"Wish what?"

The pink cat wiped away one of his own tears. "Never mind...but I do hate to see Mrs. Benfield cry like this. She's been in tears since we learned of her husband's passing."

Daniel grabbed a tissue, handing one to Mew. "Who's watching her now, do you know?"

Mew sat in silence for a second, minus the blowing of his rather large nose (which took up most of his face). "Mrs. McCoy, at the moment -- she, Soval, and Mrs. Napier have been changing shifts. I suppose I better take a few moments to comfort her, then -- hate to have people think I'm useless..."

He stood up, then bowed in his ever-gentlemanly way. As he exited, Daniel smiled a bit at the fact that Mew didn't walk -- he floated, his feet just a few inches above the floor.

====

Daniel stood behind a podium, a small urn on a pedestal in front of him. "My father... you know, we had some fun memories. I remember one time he took me and my mom out to see the carnival, which was right near our home -- first time I rode on a ferris wheel, I kid you not. Thing was HUGE, man!"

He laughed a bit, as did some of the group in front of him. "Then there was the time he took us out to get some food from...McDonald's, I think it was...and we went to a park to eat it. My mom and I, we were throwing the odd fry to some squirrels...and my dad, I totally didn't see this coming, he actually threw half of his sandwich to a seagull!"

"... My dad was very fun to be around -- well, most of the time -- and he, despite his rough exterior, was a very kind man to everyone. He never took any crap from anybody, if he could help it, and would not hesitate to kick the butt off of anyone who did him wrong."

He wiped away some tears. "So, even if I did not see him very much in his last three years of life, I can rest easily knowing that I have some great memories of him."

Daniel rose a glass, filled about three-quarters with a brown beverage. "To my father -- you shall be missed."

The rest applauded as he walked, a bit slower than usual, off the stage.

====

He inserted a small, gold key into his room's lock; upon entering, he was surprised to see the last person he wanted to talk to at this point -- a white-haired, blue-eyed man about 60 who looked, sounded, and mostly acted like his father.

"Hey, Daniel -- heard the speech out there, thought it was pretty nice" the man said, smiling a bit.

"Get out, Samuel Dleifneb."

"What?"

"I don't want to talk to a man who I based so heavily upon my father."

Sam remained seated. "Why did you make me, huh?"

"I don't understand-"

"Why did you create me, Daniel? Why did you base me so heavily on Phil?"

The tears returned to Daniel's face, despite his attempts to block them. "Because..."

"I know why," Sam continued. "Because you loved him enough to create someone who was just like him, but a bit different -- someone who had all of Phil's attributes, minus the parts you felt detracted from his ability to be the father he should have been."

Daniel continued to fight back the tears, now in a losing battle. "He couldn't be around all the time, that's why-"

"It's why you made someone different enough from Phil, that you could look at me and say to yourself "Why didn't I have you for a father"-"

"WHY DIDN'T I HAVE YOU FOR A FATHER?!" Daniel replied, letting the tears come forth as Sam calmly embraced his "son".

"I know, son...I know." They stared into each other's eyes. "But you've still got me. And you can learn from Phil's mistakes as a parent -- I've made mistakes with my family, but I don't spend time worrying about it."

"I'm so sorry, Sam..." Daniel said, moving over to grab the tissues both of them so desperately needed. "I guess you are my dad, now..."

Sam frowned a bit. "I'm afraid not, son -- I'll always be here, as will all of us, but I can't fill the role Phil left behind. Perhaps your mom will find someone else, or maybe she won't."

He walked to the open door and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Daniel alone once again. Daniel merely sat down in a chair and began crying again, not noticing the door opening and shutting again. A girl about Daniel's height walked over and sat in the empty chair next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and patting his hand.

"I swear to you," Daniel began, wiping away his tears. "I will NOT make the same mistakes my father did in raising me. I know you've been through a lot, and that I haven't been the best in the world regarding your safety, but I absolutely refuse to make the mistakes my father did."

He wiped away the faintest hint of a tear from the girl's eye. "As a mother hen protects her little chickies from the dangers this world provides, so I shall protect you...my daughter Hannah."

====

In Memory of
Phillip Benfield Sr.
2/12/50 - 2/21/10