Cyril L. Boedeker
November 30, 1918-December 11, 2011
As I mentioned previously, we said farewell to my Grandpa in December. He was 93 years old and lived a full life…enjoying his family and the things he loved for longer than most. I can't count the number of people that said the thing they remembered most about Grandpa was his laugh or his smile. I have to admit that is one of the things I remember the most as well.
Grandpa had his share of hard times, that's for sure, but he always had a song in his heart and in his step. You might think that is an exaggeration, but it's not. Even when he didn't have music playing at his house (which was very frequently) he was always humming or singing some tune. He would very often share a line or two if something reminded him of one of his favorites. I remember distinctly listening to him sing in church and feeling nervous about dancing with him at my wedding. He was a MUCH better dancer than me after all. I've heard stories about how he loved to perform in variety shows when my mom was growing up and can picture it easily.
Grandpa served in World War II. As with many veterans, he had an obvious loyalty and love for his country. He didn't always say it with words, but you just knew it. I loved seeing that glint in his eye when he talked about being in the service, especially when he talked about meeting my Grandma. He remembered fondly those days of being young and in love. They had a military wedding (as I understand it) and then spent the early days apart from each other. Eventually they settled in St. Louis and continued to have fun while raising their family.
The one thing that was probably more important to Grandpa than his country and family was his faith. He was always very active in his church life and generous to the needs of his parish. Grandpa was not a complainer, but when he was feeling ill or weak, the one thing he complained about was not getting to go to Mass. The example of faith that he lived and his rosary beads at his chair spoke much louder than his speech.
Grandpa's funeral was a special time to remember him and to be with family. The Mass was beautiful and burial service, complete with military salute, was powerful. It was (and is) hard to say goodbye but easier first because I can imagine that glint again as he was reunited with my Grandma 26 years after her death and secondly because of our hope that we will see him with Jesus when it is our turn.
Love you Grandpa...
November 30, 1918-December 11, 2011
As I mentioned previously, we said farewell to my Grandpa in December. He was 93 years old and lived a full life…enjoying his family and the things he loved for longer than most. I can't count the number of people that said the thing they remembered most about Grandpa was his laugh or his smile. I have to admit that is one of the things I remember the most as well.
Grandpa had his share of hard times, that's for sure, but he always had a song in his heart and in his step. You might think that is an exaggeration, but it's not. Even when he didn't have music playing at his house (which was very frequently) he was always humming or singing some tune. He would very often share a line or two if something reminded him of one of his favorites. I remember distinctly listening to him sing in church and feeling nervous about dancing with him at my wedding. He was a MUCH better dancer than me after all. I've heard stories about how he loved to perform in variety shows when my mom was growing up and can picture it easily.
Grandpa served in World War II. As with many veterans, he had an obvious loyalty and love for his country. He didn't always say it with words, but you just knew it. I loved seeing that glint in his eye when he talked about being in the service, especially when he talked about meeting my Grandma. He remembered fondly those days of being young and in love. They had a military wedding (as I understand it) and then spent the early days apart from each other. Eventually they settled in St. Louis and continued to have fun while raising their family.
The one thing that was probably more important to Grandpa than his country and family was his faith. He was always very active in his church life and generous to the needs of his parish. Grandpa was not a complainer, but when he was feeling ill or weak, the one thing he complained about was not getting to go to Mass. The example of faith that he lived and his rosary beads at his chair spoke much louder than his speech.
Grandpa's funeral was a special time to remember him and to be with family. The Mass was beautiful and burial service, complete with military salute, was powerful. It was (and is) hard to say goodbye but easier first because I can imagine that glint again as he was reunited with my Grandma 26 years after her death and secondly because of our hope that we will see him with Jesus when it is our turn.
Love you Grandpa...
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