10 April 2012, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
This eulogy was delivered in Italian, English and French. We will post full English translation version first, and then the original trilingual version underneath.
spoken in Italian
When my father greeted people, whether by telephone or in person, he would happily cry out: “HELLLOOOO!”
Even in the final months of his life, when the pain and suffering from his cancer was at its peak, his approach to greeting people remained as joyous as always.
Why?
Because he did not want people to suffer on his account, despite the dire circumstances – on the contrary, he wanted them to be happy. He thought of the happiness of others first and foremost. This was the essence of his character.
This is a very sad day for all of us friends and family gathered here today, and for those who knew my dad and appreciated the man he was.
It’s difficult for me to control my emotions. At the same time, there is no difficulty in describing my dad’s character and the way he lived his life day-by-day; it is a simple task.
It’s an honor and a privilege for me to be here before you, on behalf of my family, and to have the opportunity to share with you the story of an exemplary husband and father, who lived such a beautiful and extraordinary life – just as it was an honor, and a privilege, to be his only son.
My father lived his life according to a personal code of conduct. Pasquale’s code was unwritten, and he never directly revealed it, but one could readily discern it by observing his humble and straight-forward way of life.
This was his code:
• Satisfy the needs of others before mine.
• Life is about giving, not receiving.
• Help others without expecting rewards.
• Always behave justly.
• Honor and respect those weaker than us.
• Make peace, not war.
And, finally:
* A fig tree needs love too.
My father planted a fig tree in his garden, out behind our childhood home in Montreal.
Every year, with winter approaching, he would carefully bury it to preserve it, and when springtime came, he would dig it back up and give it new life.
He cared for that tree in the same manner, tireless and dedicated, that he cared for his family and friends.
He was born on March 27, 1932 in Santa Lucia del Mela, Sicily, third son of Santo Manna and Nunziata Giunta.
His parents, his sisters Franca and Venera, and his brothers Santo, Vincenzo, Salvatore, Mario, Antonino and Antonio Franco, all played an important role in forming my dad’s character, each contributing in their own way to the man he would become. By their side, he forged his sense of duty and devotion to family that he never relinquished, and which became a hallmark of his life.
To my father, his parents and siblings were the ideal family. And, in turn, they considered him the ideal son and brother.
During a family vacation in Sicly in 2001, I had the privilege and pleasure of accompanying Pasquale as we visited the remote and primitive, and oh so lovely, mountain setting where he was born and raised. I observed him closely and noted the tender emotion he exhibited in revisiting, for the first time in so long, the place where he lived the first and formative years of his life.
It was in those mountains that he worked as a shepherd from when he was a young boy.
It was there that he learned from a tender age how to tend the soil and keep a garden.
Those moments, seared in our memories, we relived together during his final week in the palliative care ward. I observed the same emotion in him as I recounted the experience – his reaction: “We were poor, but happy.”
It was in Sicily that he met his love Giovanna, who fell for his beautiful blue eyes and gentle bearing. We celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary together in 2009.
My mother, my sisters Nancy and Anna, and I were constantly by his side at the Montreal General in those final days – and though it was a painful period, one of suffering for all of us, we took the opportunity to talk about Dad and what he meant to us. My Mom, speaking of his peaceful and calm character, and beginning to feel how much she would miss having him beside her.
She told me a story – of how she was strolling with him one morning, and they came across a friend who he greeted in his usual friendly way. Later, they came across another person, and he did the same. She asked, “Do you know him?” Dad replied: “No, but I’ll greet him anyway. As Jesus would have greeted even his enemies.”
To add to his other attributes, my father had a great sense of humor, which he displayed even when disciplining us. One expression in particular was front and center: “I’ll make you go to bed hot!”
in English
There is one person in particular in this audience who I knew would appreciate this immensely, you know who you are!
Over the last weeks, our family has received an outpouring of love and support from so many people, for which we are most grateful. It has been a wonderful source of strength and comfort in this most difficult time. We’ve had so many tell us what my dad meant to them, and it is a consistent theme – these are some of the words used to describe him:
- “He was there for us, when no one else was.”
- “He is the nicest man I know in this world.”
- “There will never be another man like him.” “There are no more men like him.”
- “He taught many men what it means to be a real man.”
- “He would give you the shirt off his back.”
- “Even the rocks respected him.” This one I must repeat in the Sicilian dialect: “Se fascia rispettare puru di petri.”
There are so many adjectives to describe his qualities. He was intelligent, wise, thoughtful, perceptive, sensitive, peaceful, calm, funny, devoted, caring and above all else kind.
Back in December, when he was hospitalized at the Montreal General Hospital for the first time, I had a brief and intense moment with him when he, in the most matter of fact tone, told me he wasn't afraid to die. This was startling, at first, but once I realized what it signified, it was a proud and happy moment.
What my dad was trying to tell me was that he had lived his life in such a manner as to have few, if any, regrets. When it came to how he lived his life, there was no unfinished business. That was a moment of great relief for me because I hated the thought that such a wonderful man would have regrets, would have feelings of not having achieved something during his life, feelings of having fallen short in some way. But it was quite the opposite.
In that moment, I sensed in him such a feeling of power, the awesome power of a man facing death and having absolutely no fear. Because in that moment I knew that my dad, for all those years of selflessness, was finally about to realize the true reward, not reward financially, not reward in material things or in professional accomplishments, but rather the reward of a man who leaves this earth knowing that he did his best, consistently and persistently, to make this world a better place for those around him. That is just reward for my dad, and provides great solace to those who loved him.
And what was the greatest reward he gave to us? His example. His words backed up by his actions. An example of how to live your life with integrity and dignity. It was, and remains, a powerful example.
As my niece Sabrina mentioned, were my dad sitting here with us today, he would be most uncomfortable hearing us talk about him like this, it was not what he was about. He would prefer that I would talk about you, the people who so enriched his life and gave him the opportunity to spread his love and friendship, and the love and friendship you returned to him so many times. Those of you who gave so much to the Manna family, from the time we first set foot here in Montreal in 1967. He would have preferred that I use this opportunity to thank you and to tell you how much he appreciated the love you showed him, and that’s what I’ll do.
Looking out, I see so many that had such a positive impact on our family.
Thank you to the Salvadore, Lipari, Giannone, Andaloro and Borgia families, for the opportunities you gave to my dad to love and be loved. Thank you to Antonia and Anna D’Amico, who he cared for deeply, and to Madelena DiPietro, who has been an important presence in the lives of my parents.
Thank you to the family of Fortunato and Amelia Amico, who provided us with the opportunity to feel like we were part of a big and happy family, on so many holidays and special occasions and in general. This was so special to us as an ocean separated us from my father’s family in Sicily. Comare Amelia, thank you for continuing to be a great and loyal friend to my mom and dad. Compare Nato, you are sadly missed.
And finally, a most special thanks to the family of Biaggina and Giuseppe Sciotto. You took our family in when we were most in need, out of the immense goodness of your hearts. It was a huge sacrifice, which my father never forgot, and we will never forget. To my godmother Biaggina, her husband Giuseppe and daughter Franca, we miss you terribly.
Now my father is reunited with Biaggina, Giuseppe, Nato and other family and friends who he loved so much, and whose loss he felt so deeply. They are all no doubt smiling down at us right now, over a nice plate of pasta, some bread, and some home-made red wine.
My dad leaves behind eight beautiful grandchildren, who he loved and adored. Sabby, Maddy, Joey, Mike, Connor, Katie, Ross and Alayna, I know you will remember your grandfather, and the values he stood for, always. Your grandfather lived the credo that it’s not what happens to you that matters most, but rather how you react to what happens to you. You often don’t have a choice regarding the events that shape your life, but you always have the choice of how to react to those events, and it is your reaction that defines you.
And in such reactions, and in the decisions, large and small, that you’ll make throughout your lives, it will never hurt to ask yourself, what would nonno do? The world has become complicated in so many ways, but the lessons of his life, born in a much simpler time, endure.
in French
The French language and culture occupied a central role in my parents’ lives.
They lived in Vevey, in Switzerland, during the early years of their marriage, and my sisters Anna and Nancy were born there. In 1967, they migrated to Montreal and settled in the working-class enclave of Ville Emard, where my father quickly began to forge relationships with his French-Canadian neighbors and co-workers.
The communities of South West Montreal, of Ville Emard, St-Henri, Point St Charles and Ville Lasalle, had large French-Canadian / Quebecois communities. Many among its populace were also poor but happy, just like my Dad’s family, and he noticed those attributes in them.
I’d like to mention my Dad’s closest neighbors, who I know appreciated my father and the friendship he provided – Carole and Mario, Luvana and Joe, and Karim and Ibrahim and their families. I know that you admired the way my Dad lived his life, his gentle and sweet character, and we appreciate the friendship that you bestowed upon him.
We thank the doctors and nurses who attended to and supported my father – notably at the Montreal General Hospital. Thank you Doctors Tanguay, Betay and Kovacs.
Finally, we are so very grateful to the men and women of the Palliative Care Unit at the Montreal General. There are no words to express the depth of our appreciation for the kindness and compassion that you showed towards my father in his time of need. We were deeply touched and will never forget it. I call out in particular Drs. Lawlor and Chaput, and nurses Johanne, Andree, Josette, Mary Jane, Gladys, Thulane, Annie, Marie-Lin, Rosemary, Pasqua and Diane.
My father also greatly appreciated your efforts, even though in the end he was unable to express it. He nonetheless was able to do so, in one unforgettable moment, when he extended his hand to a nurse and whispered a thank you to her, despite his state of immense suffering and exhaustion.
Finally, our thoughts and prayers are with the families of my father’s fellow patients in the palliative ward, with whom we built a friendship upon the most difficult experience that we were sharing. We passed many nights together, and their friendship gave us courage in facing such hardship.
My dad always thought of others, and it’s now our turn to do the same. Our thoughts are with the families of Marisol Argueillo, age 39; Carolina Falcone, age 49; Michel Loiselle, age 51; Viviane Naud, age 61; and Mira Skrlj, age 66.
delivered in English
I am grateful for the Manna name that my father gave to me and my family, because it was his, and his father’s before him, and they carried it well. Because of them and others, the name symbolizes integrity, strength of character, and selflessness. These are the characteristics of my father, and by expressing them every day of his 80 years, he gave us all the privilege and honor of being associated with that name.
It’s time to say our last goodbye to my father, knowing that his memory will always be with us as we go about our lives.
We remember always the goodwill he expressed to all he encountered during the course of his life, whether he was meeting them for the first time or had known them for many years, and how they benefited from his presence. And we, his family, who have had the privilege of basking in his presence and benefitting from his lessons for all that time that we stood by his side.
Italian
Your name was Pasquale Manna. You were my father and father to my sisters. You were husband to our mother, and grandfather to our children. Thank you for all that you have done for us. Men like you, there are no more. We love you very much, and we will never forget you.
