The Eulogy.
Due to a number of people wanting to see the eulogy I did for my dad, I've decided to post it on here.
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We have been brought together to celebrate the life of Paul Ell, a devoted husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend to many.
A dear friend of mine recently told me, “Sometimes words don't mean anything. Other times they mean a bunch. Sometimes there just aren't any words.” While no words can express the sense of loss we feel, I’d like to give you an insider’s view of my dad, why he meant so much to all of us, and how lucky we are to have known him.
Dad was always ready to go. Ready to help the St. Charles High School Pirates win a state basketball championship in 1957, ready to help out a friend in need, ready to raise money for St. Bridget School, ready to rush to the aid of strangers with Meramec Ambulance District, ready to tackle a new project at Maritz, or ready to lend a hand at a Knights of Columbus function.
As you can probably tell by the Knights of Columbus honor guard here today, the Knights were very important to dad. And he was important to them. A former grand knight, faithful navigator, district deputy, and Missouri state fraternal recognition chairman, his involvement with the Father Edward Berry council and the Monsignor Hildner Fourth Degree Assembly meant a great deal to him, and his enthusiasm for the Knights’ work and mission not only helped many worthy causes, but encouraged many other men to follow his example and become members.
The Knights of Columbus helped dad live his faith, as did his involvement with the Meramec Ambulance District. I remember many occasions when dad would be called to assist someone in need - regardless of the time of day or night. Dad was there in the early 70s when a need for this sort of public service presented itself, and his involvement continued for over 15 years. In that time, he touched the lives of countless people, and even brought a life into this world when he delivered a baby on the side of a busy highway.
Of course, his involvement with the Knights and the ambulance district were in addition to his career at Maritz, where he spent more than 30 years in the data processing/IT field. To give you an idea of how long he was at Maritz, when he started there, a computer mainframe took up a good portion of one building. When he retired just over two years ago, many of his co-workers carried pocket-sized organizers with roughly the same processing power as that first mainframe I just mentioned. That’s not the important thing about his time at Maritz, though. The people are what mattered most to him. I was amazed at the number of former co-workers who came to see him in the hospital, and who have kept in touch with us to stay informed of his condition over the past months. When you spend 40 hours a week with a group of people for so many years, they become more than co-workers. They become a second family.
Toward the end of his career at Maritz, and into his retirement, dad was always ready to see new sights - to stretch his wings and travel. He and mom took many trips to Hawaii, Florida, and even went to London once. Of course, there were many other vacations, mostly family adventures to such exotic destinations as Kentucky, Arkansas, and Indiana, among others. Of course, let’s not forget my mother’s sweet tooth, and the number of late night Krispy Kreme adventures these two shared. These trips may not sound that exciting, but I promise you, he loved every second because he was with his family. He was always ready to embark on another adventure with his family.
Dad was always ready - usually at least 15 minutes before mom.
And speaking of family, he loved us very much. And we love him. Mom and dad were married on her 21st birthday in 1964 - a wise move on his part, since that would be one less date to remember, and if he ever did forget the anniversary or her birthday, he could go ahead and take the heat for both at once. Their 41 years together weren’t exactly easy. They lost their first child, Tina, shortly after her birth, lost both of their fathers within six months of one another, lost his mother in 1986, and lost her mother in 1998 after a very lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s. However, they did raise three wonderful kids - and me - and I know that he couldn’t have been more proud of each of us: he was proud of Julie and her career as a registered nurse, especially after returning to school to get her BSN while raising three kids and working; he was proud of Suzanne’s career in the travel industry, and was always ready to tell a friend about the places she had visited most recently; he was proud of Jon’s strong work ethic and willingness to lend a hand with anything. As for me, dad asked me two weekends ago how I had turned out so bad. Of course, at the time, I was feeding him breakfast in a hospital room, had just spilled some water on him, and - the worst offense of all - didn’t know what time his youngest grandson’s baseball game was that day. He later changed his mind and assured me that I turned out okay, even though I spilled water on him two more times, still didn’t know when Patrick’s game was, and took five and a half years to graduate from college - he loved me anyway. Dad also loved his son-in-law, Eric, also a nurse. Yes, Eric - believe it or not, he bragged about you, too. Your involvement with this family - which, when you signed up for the gig, was on a strictly volunteer basis - was something he treasured. You and Bryan were both very valued to him as sources of objective points of view, and he always trusted and respected both of you.
Dad was a devoted Papa to Rachel, Christopher, and Patrick. They meant the world to him. Even though his trips to the Babbits house usually involved a nap in a recliner, the times he spent with his grandchildren, and his role as their grandfather, were always sure to bring a smile to his face. He would do anything for his grandkids.
And we can’t forget Dad’s brothers and sisters. He loved all of you very much. He loved to do things with you, whether it was a simple visit on a Sunday afternoon, or something a little more involved - like meeting up in Florida, going on a cruise together, or experiencing firsthand the fast-paced Amish lifestyle in Shipshewana, Indiana. He loved the family Christmas parties, and couldn’t wait to help feed everyone each year.
Of course, Dad loved to cook. He’d cook for anyone who was brave enough to eat his latest experimentation. We never did figure out exactly what was in some of his concoctions, but this much was certain: it would be served in a skillet, and the smoke detector would always tell us when it was done. His cooking, although sometimes of questionable origins, was done as he did all things - out of love. Dad was a man filled with love - love for his family, love for his friends, and love for his community.
In his final months, dad was hospitalized five times, the most recent stay lasting 30 days and involving two surgeries. He went through a lot - more than any person should. Through it all, his faith and his love sustained him. The last week of his life - a time filled with visits from countless loved ones - will always be a special time for us, as it enabled us to be with him one last time, and to share our love for him and one another. Dad was even able to spend his last few days in his own home. “I can’t believe I’m finally home,” is what he said.
Dad is home now, in another sense. His strong faith enabled him to always be ready to go to his home in heaven. While he is no longer with us in body, let us remember that his physical suffering on this earth is over, and he is in a much better place now. Dad’s time with us was only temporary, but his spirit and his love will continue to live on in each and every one of us as we live our lives until we can join him in heaven.
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We have been brought together to celebrate the life of Paul Ell, a devoted husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend to many.
A dear friend of mine recently told me, “Sometimes words don't mean anything. Other times they mean a bunch. Sometimes there just aren't any words.” While no words can express the sense of loss we feel, I’d like to give you an insider’s view of my dad, why he meant so much to all of us, and how lucky we are to have known him.
Dad was always ready to go. Ready to help the St. Charles High School Pirates win a state basketball championship in 1957, ready to help out a friend in need, ready to raise money for St. Bridget School, ready to rush to the aid of strangers with Meramec Ambulance District, ready to tackle a new project at Maritz, or ready to lend a hand at a Knights of Columbus function.
As you can probably tell by the Knights of Columbus honor guard here today, the Knights were very important to dad. And he was important to them. A former grand knight, faithful navigator, district deputy, and Missouri state fraternal recognition chairman, his involvement with the Father Edward Berry council and the Monsignor Hildner Fourth Degree Assembly meant a great deal to him, and his enthusiasm for the Knights’ work and mission not only helped many worthy causes, but encouraged many other men to follow his example and become members.
The Knights of Columbus helped dad live his faith, as did his involvement with the Meramec Ambulance District. I remember many occasions when dad would be called to assist someone in need - regardless of the time of day or night. Dad was there in the early 70s when a need for this sort of public service presented itself, and his involvement continued for over 15 years. In that time, he touched the lives of countless people, and even brought a life into this world when he delivered a baby on the side of a busy highway.
Of course, his involvement with the Knights and the ambulance district were in addition to his career at Maritz, where he spent more than 30 years in the data processing/IT field. To give you an idea of how long he was at Maritz, when he started there, a computer mainframe took up a good portion of one building. When he retired just over two years ago, many of his co-workers carried pocket-sized organizers with roughly the same processing power as that first mainframe I just mentioned. That’s not the important thing about his time at Maritz, though. The people are what mattered most to him. I was amazed at the number of former co-workers who came to see him in the hospital, and who have kept in touch with us to stay informed of his condition over the past months. When you spend 40 hours a week with a group of people for so many years, they become more than co-workers. They become a second family.
Toward the end of his career at Maritz, and into his retirement, dad was always ready to see new sights - to stretch his wings and travel. He and mom took many trips to Hawaii, Florida, and even went to London once. Of course, there were many other vacations, mostly family adventures to such exotic destinations as Kentucky, Arkansas, and Indiana, among others. Of course, let’s not forget my mother’s sweet tooth, and the number of late night Krispy Kreme adventures these two shared. These trips may not sound that exciting, but I promise you, he loved every second because he was with his family. He was always ready to embark on another adventure with his family.
Dad was always ready - usually at least 15 minutes before mom.
And speaking of family, he loved us very much. And we love him. Mom and dad were married on her 21st birthday in 1964 - a wise move on his part, since that would be one less date to remember, and if he ever did forget the anniversary or her birthday, he could go ahead and take the heat for both at once. Their 41 years together weren’t exactly easy. They lost their first child, Tina, shortly after her birth, lost both of their fathers within six months of one another, lost his mother in 1986, and lost her mother in 1998 after a very lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s. However, they did raise three wonderful kids - and me - and I know that he couldn’t have been more proud of each of us: he was proud of Julie and her career as a registered nurse, especially after returning to school to get her BSN while raising three kids and working; he was proud of Suzanne’s career in the travel industry, and was always ready to tell a friend about the places she had visited most recently; he was proud of Jon’s strong work ethic and willingness to lend a hand with anything. As for me, dad asked me two weekends ago how I had turned out so bad. Of course, at the time, I was feeding him breakfast in a hospital room, had just spilled some water on him, and - the worst offense of all - didn’t know what time his youngest grandson’s baseball game was that day. He later changed his mind and assured me that I turned out okay, even though I spilled water on him two more times, still didn’t know when Patrick’s game was, and took five and a half years to graduate from college - he loved me anyway. Dad also loved his son-in-law, Eric, also a nurse. Yes, Eric - believe it or not, he bragged about you, too. Your involvement with this family - which, when you signed up for the gig, was on a strictly volunteer basis - was something he treasured. You and Bryan were both very valued to him as sources of objective points of view, and he always trusted and respected both of you.
Dad was a devoted Papa to Rachel, Christopher, and Patrick. They meant the world to him. Even though his trips to the Babbits house usually involved a nap in a recliner, the times he spent with his grandchildren, and his role as their grandfather, were always sure to bring a smile to his face. He would do anything for his grandkids.
And we can’t forget Dad’s brothers and sisters. He loved all of you very much. He loved to do things with you, whether it was a simple visit on a Sunday afternoon, or something a little more involved - like meeting up in Florida, going on a cruise together, or experiencing firsthand the fast-paced Amish lifestyle in Shipshewana, Indiana. He loved the family Christmas parties, and couldn’t wait to help feed everyone each year.
Of course, Dad loved to cook. He’d cook for anyone who was brave enough to eat his latest experimentation. We never did figure out exactly what was in some of his concoctions, but this much was certain: it would be served in a skillet, and the smoke detector would always tell us when it was done. His cooking, although sometimes of questionable origins, was done as he did all things - out of love. Dad was a man filled with love - love for his family, love for his friends, and love for his community.
In his final months, dad was hospitalized five times, the most recent stay lasting 30 days and involving two surgeries. He went through a lot - more than any person should. Through it all, his faith and his love sustained him. The last week of his life - a time filled with visits from countless loved ones - will always be a special time for us, as it enabled us to be with him one last time, and to share our love for him and one another. Dad was even able to spend his last few days in his own home. “I can’t believe I’m finally home,” is what he said.
Dad is home now, in another sense. His strong faith enabled him to always be ready to go to his home in heaven. While he is no longer with us in body, let us remember that his physical suffering on this earth is over, and he is in a much better place now. Dad’s time with us was only temporary, but his spirit and his love will continue to live on in each and every one of us as we live our lives until we can join him in heaven.
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