As my grandfather was laid to rest, I was asked to provide a eulogy worth of him…

In the words of my late, WWE and superhero loving legendary grandfather who we have all come here to celebrate, “what the hell are all of you doing here?”

At age 81, my grandfather died peacefully after complications from a radioactive spider bite that led to years of crime-fighting and a two year battle with a nefarious criminal named old age, who has plagued our society for far too long. Civilians will recognize him best as Spider-Man, and thank him for his many years of service protecting our city. Or wait, that was someone else…

All kidding aside, my superhero of a grandfather was a quiet man who most often sought his own company, tinkering in the garage, announcing bingo numbers at the local nursing home he volunteered at, stuffing random and broken things in his already full basement, telling stories of his years on the farm, being the first to show up to the hospital both accidentally and on purpose, enjoying a contraband ham sandwich when he was otherwise forbidden from having salt, loving his late wife, and barking at strangers.

Along with countless children and grandchildren who he was convinced were trying to kill him, he leaves behind a hell of a lot of stuff his children have no idea what to do with it.

So if you’re looking for 7 vacuum from the late 80’s, a dozen chain saws, a significant thermometer collection, a closet full of used hand towels, a 100 pound very ornamental cash register that no one can seem to open and 1,000 purchased and hand made tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for. You should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine

This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an ode to a great man, he leaves behind a family that he was very proud of.

Pop was world-renowned for his lack of patience with adults, love of children, not holding back his opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. His extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. He liked four letter words as much as he loved his Christmas light displays. Dreaming up a wonderland of twinkle lights, cars would line the block to see the illuminated train as well as hear the Christmas music coming from the speakers he rigged to the attic – a frayed and matted nest of stereo wires he so thoughtfully left to his children to discover.

He was never one for sentiment or religiosity, but he wanted you to know that if he owes you a beer, and if you can find him in Heaven, he will gladly allow you to buy him one. He can likely be found forwarding tasteless internet jokes (check your spam folder, but don’t open these at work) and amassing a collection of whatever trinket or baubble is most accessible in heaven

Unlike previous times, this is not a ploy to avoid creditors or old girlfriends. He assures us that he is gone. He will be greatly missed.

I leave you with what I believe would have been his own eulogy had had time to write it:

It pains me to admit it, but apparently, I have passed away. Everyone told me it would happen one day but that’s simply not something I wanted to hear, much less experience. Once again I didn’t get things my way! That’s been the story of my life all my life.

So, here it is … I was born; I blinked; and it was over.