In Memory of Richard
On June 1st, 2014, Joan's devoted husband, Richard, died after a year and half batter with renal cancer that metastasized to his lungs, lymph nodes, and bones.
You can read his obituary HERE.
You can read his obituary HERE.
The following is eulogy given by his children on June 6th, 2014. One eulogy. Five voices.
MARIA
I’m going first not just because I’m the oldest, but as my siblings will readily agree … I’m the favorite …
Gosh … how hard it is to talk about the man – Richard Gaeta … I realize so powerfully how much he shaped who I am, and who I’ve become. His love affair with Mommy … his love of his family … especially having lost his only brother when he was only 13. He always wanted us to know how lucky we were to have each other …
Since I am being forced to NOT TALK too much … and use up all our minutes … I can’t tell you ALL the ways he has touched my life; but let me paint a picture of who he was to me. Daddy was instrumental in forming my spiritual life; my faith. My relationship with Daddy became one of deep and rich conversation about God, love, relationships, family, and giving back to others through service … He was the first to teach me that “to whom much is given, much is expected”… I took that lesson to heart, and modeled my life around it.
Here are some of my memories of Daddy….
How about the story of his proposal to Mommy … Get this, Daddy waits until the consecration at Mass to “pop the question” with a diamond ring! I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that might have been just a bit sacrilegious – wasn’t he supposed to be paying attention? He used to jokingly tell us he did it during mass because he figured she couldn’t say “no”! Truthfully, though, I think deep within him, after having spent 4 years with the Franciscans at his beloved St. Bonaventure, Bonas, Daddy knew the source of the love he had for Mommy came directly from God.
And all those prayers! Around our kitchen table … before dinner, having to think about what we were thankful for before we could eat … taking me and then me and Theresa to mass early in the morning before school during Lent … long before we had received first holy communion. Faith was incredibly central to Daddy. One early memory still makes me laugh, but it says so much of his honesty and frankness when it came to his spiritual life. On any given Sunday at Our Lady of the Assumption, Daddy and Mommy filed us into the very front pew so we would have to pay attention and be good in front of the altar and the priest. Surprise, surprise, it rarely worked! On this one Sunday, we kids were horsing around and he was getting increasingly agitated with us. When it came to communion … he didn’t receive. Gulp. Boy, we knew then we were in deep trouble … and we were! He needed to be “right” in his heart to take communion. Fast forward now to the past 7 months, when I was bringing him communion and sharing the daily liturgy. These moments are, and will remain, deeply cherished.
Then, there was the surprise birth of our youngest brother, Joey, when I was 10. To this day one memory of that event stands out crystal clear to me. Daddy is pulling me, Theresa, Ricky and Tina down onto the braided rug in our family room, before we left for school. There in a circle he began praying for Mommy and our new baby brother … little Joseph Anthony. That was how we were told that Joey was born. It was important for Daddy for us to pray as a family with him.
My parents always pointed to God our Father as the source of all love … and that the love I felt in my heart was God’s love. This burned into me my image of God as all-loving, and it was modeled so vividly at home by Daddy and Mommy. In all of my life’s twists and turns as a youngster and a teenager, I never once doubted my place in the world, my place in the family, and even when things were going badly, somehow, I always knew I was loved. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized that this wasn’t everyone’s life experience; and I began to see clearly how truly blessed we were as a family.
Daddy and I shared our faith, our many questions, our doubts, our fears, our consolations, and even our desolations. As we walked together through Mommy’s cancer and death and then through his own, we shared so much with each other, always ending it with, “If not for our faith, where would we be?”
And so, as we repeated over and over again to Daddy as he was leaving our world ... ”Yes Daddy, Yes Daddy … fall into the arms of LOVE …”
THERESA
He was my hero. He was my best friend.
Daddy and I shared a love of sports and the outdoors.
We began playing tennis 40 years ago. I remember the day he came home with a tennis racket and gave it to me and said, “I think you’d be good at this.” He essentially was my tennis coach, well – if you consider standing on the other side of the net as I’m serving chuckling saying: “Don’t choke!” coaching .
The pinnacle for me was being able to take him to the US Open right before he got sick. He absolutely loved it!!!
Daddy shared his love of the Yankees with my brothers and I. He took my brother and I to my first Yankee game when I was 11 years old. Yes, he is the one responsible for my obsession with the Yankees.
He was an athlete -- from playing tennis to playing basketball in the driveway with my brother to swimming and jumping in the waves at Gulf Shores – he was so much fun. He loved life.
He shared his passion for the lake and mountains of the Enchanted Valley here in Hiawassee with me. Countless days swimming in the lake or on the dock or teaching me how to take the boat out. (But of course along with that came, teaching me how to clean the boat – I mean getting in the water scrubbing the bottom of the boat, of course!)
For a dedicated family man with an incredible work ethic, I was always impressed how Daddy found so much time, not only to be a part of all of our lives, but during those times together how he was always teaching; whether it was talking about our future, our relationships or our faith. There were five of us and there is not one of us that did not share quality alone time with him – throughout our lives, not just in these past few years. I personally think that is amazing.
Probably the most profound effect Daddy has had on me has been his ardent faith, especially during this past year, as he made his journey home. Watching his devotion to God in his daily prayer life and praying with him daily, was by far, the greatest gift he could have left me.
I will miss him immensely. I’d like to leave you with a line from a poem: “And if you cannot live without me, then let me live on in your mind, and in your loving, Christian heart.”
RICHARD, JR.
There is something not right here and I just figured it out what it is – I didn’t go first. You see, I’m the first-born son in an Italian family. To those un-initiated it’s God – Country – Dad – ME, in that order. I think my sisters will admit to breaking protocol. I know Dad would have had my back on this.
Parents play a key role in shaping one’s life and for a son, a father holds a special place. As I look back now, I can see Dad’s impact on my life and how he shaped my character (at least the good parts) in ways that I hope to transmit to my sons. He was a role model for leadership, integrity, perseverance, and compassion. And most importantly he gave me the foundation of spirituality - a firm foothold to begin life’s journey towards God.
I am blessed to have seen the full man over the course of my fifty years. The stern disciplinarian: he could be Patton in wing-tipped shoes. The hard-working provider: he demonstrated a work ethic and will power that I still strive to reach. The compassionate father: still giving to his children in their time of need no matter our age or circumstance. Unconditional love of family.
There are many colorful stories we all have about Dad’s sternness and discipline in our youth. It’s easy to laugh now, but he was quite effective with his discipline. He was setting the stage for us, setting expectations for us. Here I can say I was never able to master this aspect of fatherhood. By the time I was about 7 or 8 years old my Dad had only to shoot a look with his eyes and magically I became mute or my muscles would cease to propel me. A truly unique skill set. It was no accident why the most coveted seat in the car was that right behind Dad – try making contact with your hand on someone right behind you while maintaining eye contact with the road. The middle back seat was to be avoided at all costs.
I think Dad also instilled very early on an openness to discuss all kinds of things. Riding home after mass on Sunday invariably involved a discussion of the readings and Gospels as well as a critique of the homily. The dinner table was literally a round table of conversation and he was King Arthur. Politics, religion, philosophy were all fair game. Being Italian (or maybe it was just us) these conversations could become very loud and usually gave my mother agita. But in retrospect I see how he instilled in me a desire see and understand the world in which we live. To live an examined life.
I will miss him greatly. I was lucky enough to spend quality time with him in his last few weeks – making an afternoon martini just the way he liked it and sitting on his deck looking out at the beautiful lake and mountains together. I realize not many people will get to do that with their parents at the end of life – it was a blessing. But some of the best memories of my Dad are just little vignettes that I can summon at will and they always put a smile on my face:
It’s a typical Sunday and I’m sitting at the dinner table with the family – passing around the Big Red Led (that’s just gravy to Italians or tomato sauce to the rest of you) The gravy augments our plate of lasagna or some other unbelievably awesome homemade Italian dish (yeah….my weight…..I never had a chance). Being first-born son, I always sat on his left or right at the head of the table. In the middle of those heavenly forkfuls, Dad would lean over to me and say simply “Ya know, if I wasn’t born Italian, I’d be Pissed Off”. And then he would just give a great big satisfying grin. Dad…I can say now, If you weren’t my father, I’d be pissed off as well.
CHRISTINA
Although my Dad scared me until my early 20's....not really, my early 40's....he called it like he saw it and that made him fun to be around. We all have hundreds of stories about him saying something we wished he hadn't, but secretly kind of loving how funny it was later.
He set the example of living our true selves.
I cannot think of anyone more authentic and unique. His frankness and personal questions FORCED me to share things I can't believe I did. I knew that for some reason, I was safe telling him anything.
This made him a close friend, but also a wonderful parent.
He always - ALWAYS - was interested in my life- encouraging me to keep painting, to raise my boys right, and to give thanks and praise to God.
I was very proud of him.
He was my champion
JOSEPH
I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank my brother and sisters for kneeling in prayer for me at my birth. (I’ll lay my hands upon you after mass.)
Being the youngest – by several years – I have an oddly unique perspective on dad. (As Tina has said, I was an only child raised in a large family.) Apparently like everyone else, I was scared of him when I was young. Not so much based on personal experience…but based upon legend.
I remember, when I was a very small child, he would sit on the couch and ask me to come give him a “Hugginah”. I would run and jump into his lap. I can still feel his shaved beard on my face. (These memories came rushing to me in these past few months of his illness as I would stand with him as he shaved in case he got tired or could not stand.)
As a young boy, I was always so proud of my dad. I saw this physically powerful man who was at the same time a graceful athlete. I literally bought into that whole boyhood schoolyard banter, “Oh yeah, well my dad could beat up your dad!” You have to understand, this was Atlanta in the late 70s /early 80s. I had seen these kids’ dads. My dad was Dick Gaeta from the Bronx. I had no doubt he could beat up their dads….or at least make a phone call or two. And even when I surpassed him in size long ago, he always seemed like he was the bigger one. (I could not help but think about this as I would help my sisters lift him into his bed when he became too weak.)
But, as I grew into my teenage years, dad and I spent a lot of one-on-one time – in the car on the way home from football practices or just at home because my brother and sisters out of the house by then.
We talked about everything…from school and sports to the news of the day...to life and love. (…and about my siblings.) It was great.
It was during these times that I got to know him for the man you have heard about this morning. I would hear stories of his courtship with mom…and what to look for in a woman…even tales of girls before mom…how to deal with a broken heart or unrequited love. He would talk about how he was insecure as a child and as a young man, just like I was… Stories of his married life and raising a family while also supporting his parents under the same roof. We would discuss the highs and - more importantly - the lows of his career…and the keys to finding happiness. Occasionally these stories were told explicitly to prove a point. Most of the time, though, they were just anecdotes - disconnected from any specific lesson at the time. They would crop up naturally as part of whatever our conversation was about. But, as a whole, they painted a picture of the right way to live.
As I grew into adulthood, the life lessons did not stop – and neither did the stories…some of which I had heard so many times, I could tell them as if they happened to me. But, they took on new meaning as I began my work life, got married, and started a family.
Mind you, none of this is to anoint sainthood on dad. He was far from perfect, as he would be the first to admit. Dad and I had our less than idyllic moments. But, that’s the point. Many of his anecdotes were of the mistakes he had made. - pitfalls he wanted me to avoid. Apologies for times he fell short. He was not bashful in pointing out specific instances where he failed or made the wrong decision. They served as examples.
As an adult, I often reflect on the mistakes I have made in my life. It dawned on me long ago that more often than not….my failures have come when I did not follow my father’s example or advice. And my successes came when I did – the most important of which are my wife and my children.
When it’s all said and done, that’s the most important thing any father can do: teach your children the right way to live and lead by example. If I am half the husband and father that my dad was, that will be my most important success.
So…here we are. Mom and dad are physically gone now; but our family continues to grow. And their legacy lives on is all of us. We leave you with a prayer that has been a part of our home for a long time. We are sure dad would want us to take it to heart now more than ever….
God made us a family.
We need one another.
We love one another.
We forgive one another.
We work together.
We play together.
We worship together.
Together we use God's word.
Together we grow in Christ.
Together we love all people.
Together we serve our God.
Together we hope for heaven.
These are our hopes and ideals.
Help us to attain them, O God
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
I’m going first not just because I’m the oldest, but as my siblings will readily agree … I’m the favorite …
Gosh … how hard it is to talk about the man – Richard Gaeta … I realize so powerfully how much he shaped who I am, and who I’ve become. His love affair with Mommy … his love of his family … especially having lost his only brother when he was only 13. He always wanted us to know how lucky we were to have each other …
Since I am being forced to NOT TALK too much … and use up all our minutes … I can’t tell you ALL the ways he has touched my life; but let me paint a picture of who he was to me. Daddy was instrumental in forming my spiritual life; my faith. My relationship with Daddy became one of deep and rich conversation about God, love, relationships, family, and giving back to others through service … He was the first to teach me that “to whom much is given, much is expected”… I took that lesson to heart, and modeled my life around it.
Here are some of my memories of Daddy….
How about the story of his proposal to Mommy … Get this, Daddy waits until the consecration at Mass to “pop the question” with a diamond ring! I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that might have been just a bit sacrilegious – wasn’t he supposed to be paying attention? He used to jokingly tell us he did it during mass because he figured she couldn’t say “no”! Truthfully, though, I think deep within him, after having spent 4 years with the Franciscans at his beloved St. Bonaventure, Bonas, Daddy knew the source of the love he had for Mommy came directly from God.
And all those prayers! Around our kitchen table … before dinner, having to think about what we were thankful for before we could eat … taking me and then me and Theresa to mass early in the morning before school during Lent … long before we had received first holy communion. Faith was incredibly central to Daddy. One early memory still makes me laugh, but it says so much of his honesty and frankness when it came to his spiritual life. On any given Sunday at Our Lady of the Assumption, Daddy and Mommy filed us into the very front pew so we would have to pay attention and be good in front of the altar and the priest. Surprise, surprise, it rarely worked! On this one Sunday, we kids were horsing around and he was getting increasingly agitated with us. When it came to communion … he didn’t receive. Gulp. Boy, we knew then we were in deep trouble … and we were! He needed to be “right” in his heart to take communion. Fast forward now to the past 7 months, when I was bringing him communion and sharing the daily liturgy. These moments are, and will remain, deeply cherished.
Then, there was the surprise birth of our youngest brother, Joey, when I was 10. To this day one memory of that event stands out crystal clear to me. Daddy is pulling me, Theresa, Ricky and Tina down onto the braided rug in our family room, before we left for school. There in a circle he began praying for Mommy and our new baby brother … little Joseph Anthony. That was how we were told that Joey was born. It was important for Daddy for us to pray as a family with him.
My parents always pointed to God our Father as the source of all love … and that the love I felt in my heart was God’s love. This burned into me my image of God as all-loving, and it was modeled so vividly at home by Daddy and Mommy. In all of my life’s twists and turns as a youngster and a teenager, I never once doubted my place in the world, my place in the family, and even when things were going badly, somehow, I always knew I was loved. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized that this wasn’t everyone’s life experience; and I began to see clearly how truly blessed we were as a family.
Daddy and I shared our faith, our many questions, our doubts, our fears, our consolations, and even our desolations. As we walked together through Mommy’s cancer and death and then through his own, we shared so much with each other, always ending it with, “If not for our faith, where would we be?”
And so, as we repeated over and over again to Daddy as he was leaving our world ... ”Yes Daddy, Yes Daddy … fall into the arms of LOVE …”
THERESA
He was my hero. He was my best friend.
Daddy and I shared a love of sports and the outdoors.
We began playing tennis 40 years ago. I remember the day he came home with a tennis racket and gave it to me and said, “I think you’d be good at this.” He essentially was my tennis coach, well – if you consider standing on the other side of the net as I’m serving chuckling saying: “Don’t choke!” coaching .
The pinnacle for me was being able to take him to the US Open right before he got sick. He absolutely loved it!!!
Daddy shared his love of the Yankees with my brothers and I. He took my brother and I to my first Yankee game when I was 11 years old. Yes, he is the one responsible for my obsession with the Yankees.
He was an athlete -- from playing tennis to playing basketball in the driveway with my brother to swimming and jumping in the waves at Gulf Shores – he was so much fun. He loved life.
He shared his passion for the lake and mountains of the Enchanted Valley here in Hiawassee with me. Countless days swimming in the lake or on the dock or teaching me how to take the boat out. (But of course along with that came, teaching me how to clean the boat – I mean getting in the water scrubbing the bottom of the boat, of course!)
For a dedicated family man with an incredible work ethic, I was always impressed how Daddy found so much time, not only to be a part of all of our lives, but during those times together how he was always teaching; whether it was talking about our future, our relationships or our faith. There were five of us and there is not one of us that did not share quality alone time with him – throughout our lives, not just in these past few years. I personally think that is amazing.
Probably the most profound effect Daddy has had on me has been his ardent faith, especially during this past year, as he made his journey home. Watching his devotion to God in his daily prayer life and praying with him daily, was by far, the greatest gift he could have left me.
I will miss him immensely. I’d like to leave you with a line from a poem: “And if you cannot live without me, then let me live on in your mind, and in your loving, Christian heart.”
RICHARD, JR.
There is something not right here and I just figured it out what it is – I didn’t go first. You see, I’m the first-born son in an Italian family. To those un-initiated it’s God – Country – Dad – ME, in that order. I think my sisters will admit to breaking protocol. I know Dad would have had my back on this.
Parents play a key role in shaping one’s life and for a son, a father holds a special place. As I look back now, I can see Dad’s impact on my life and how he shaped my character (at least the good parts) in ways that I hope to transmit to my sons. He was a role model for leadership, integrity, perseverance, and compassion. And most importantly he gave me the foundation of spirituality - a firm foothold to begin life’s journey towards God.
I am blessed to have seen the full man over the course of my fifty years. The stern disciplinarian: he could be Patton in wing-tipped shoes. The hard-working provider: he demonstrated a work ethic and will power that I still strive to reach. The compassionate father: still giving to his children in their time of need no matter our age or circumstance. Unconditional love of family.
There are many colorful stories we all have about Dad’s sternness and discipline in our youth. It’s easy to laugh now, but he was quite effective with his discipline. He was setting the stage for us, setting expectations for us. Here I can say I was never able to master this aspect of fatherhood. By the time I was about 7 or 8 years old my Dad had only to shoot a look with his eyes and magically I became mute or my muscles would cease to propel me. A truly unique skill set. It was no accident why the most coveted seat in the car was that right behind Dad – try making contact with your hand on someone right behind you while maintaining eye contact with the road. The middle back seat was to be avoided at all costs.
I think Dad also instilled very early on an openness to discuss all kinds of things. Riding home after mass on Sunday invariably involved a discussion of the readings and Gospels as well as a critique of the homily. The dinner table was literally a round table of conversation and he was King Arthur. Politics, religion, philosophy were all fair game. Being Italian (or maybe it was just us) these conversations could become very loud and usually gave my mother agita. But in retrospect I see how he instilled in me a desire see and understand the world in which we live. To live an examined life.
I will miss him greatly. I was lucky enough to spend quality time with him in his last few weeks – making an afternoon martini just the way he liked it and sitting on his deck looking out at the beautiful lake and mountains together. I realize not many people will get to do that with their parents at the end of life – it was a blessing. But some of the best memories of my Dad are just little vignettes that I can summon at will and they always put a smile on my face:
It’s a typical Sunday and I’m sitting at the dinner table with the family – passing around the Big Red Led (that’s just gravy to Italians or tomato sauce to the rest of you) The gravy augments our plate of lasagna or some other unbelievably awesome homemade Italian dish (yeah….my weight…..I never had a chance). Being first-born son, I always sat on his left or right at the head of the table. In the middle of those heavenly forkfuls, Dad would lean over to me and say simply “Ya know, if I wasn’t born Italian, I’d be Pissed Off”. And then he would just give a great big satisfying grin. Dad…I can say now, If you weren’t my father, I’d be pissed off as well.
CHRISTINA
Although my Dad scared me until my early 20's....not really, my early 40's....he called it like he saw it and that made him fun to be around. We all have hundreds of stories about him saying something we wished he hadn't, but secretly kind of loving how funny it was later.
He set the example of living our true selves.
I cannot think of anyone more authentic and unique. His frankness and personal questions FORCED me to share things I can't believe I did. I knew that for some reason, I was safe telling him anything.
This made him a close friend, but also a wonderful parent.
He always - ALWAYS - was interested in my life- encouraging me to keep painting, to raise my boys right, and to give thanks and praise to God.
I was very proud of him.
He was my champion
JOSEPH
I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank my brother and sisters for kneeling in prayer for me at my birth. (I’ll lay my hands upon you after mass.)
Being the youngest – by several years – I have an oddly unique perspective on dad. (As Tina has said, I was an only child raised in a large family.) Apparently like everyone else, I was scared of him when I was young. Not so much based on personal experience…but based upon legend.
I remember, when I was a very small child, he would sit on the couch and ask me to come give him a “Hugginah”. I would run and jump into his lap. I can still feel his shaved beard on my face. (These memories came rushing to me in these past few months of his illness as I would stand with him as he shaved in case he got tired or could not stand.)
As a young boy, I was always so proud of my dad. I saw this physically powerful man who was at the same time a graceful athlete. I literally bought into that whole boyhood schoolyard banter, “Oh yeah, well my dad could beat up your dad!” You have to understand, this was Atlanta in the late 70s /early 80s. I had seen these kids’ dads. My dad was Dick Gaeta from the Bronx. I had no doubt he could beat up their dads….or at least make a phone call or two. And even when I surpassed him in size long ago, he always seemed like he was the bigger one. (I could not help but think about this as I would help my sisters lift him into his bed when he became too weak.)
But, as I grew into my teenage years, dad and I spent a lot of one-on-one time – in the car on the way home from football practices or just at home because my brother and sisters out of the house by then.
We talked about everything…from school and sports to the news of the day...to life and love. (…and about my siblings.) It was great.
It was during these times that I got to know him for the man you have heard about this morning. I would hear stories of his courtship with mom…and what to look for in a woman…even tales of girls before mom…how to deal with a broken heart or unrequited love. He would talk about how he was insecure as a child and as a young man, just like I was… Stories of his married life and raising a family while also supporting his parents under the same roof. We would discuss the highs and - more importantly - the lows of his career…and the keys to finding happiness. Occasionally these stories were told explicitly to prove a point. Most of the time, though, they were just anecdotes - disconnected from any specific lesson at the time. They would crop up naturally as part of whatever our conversation was about. But, as a whole, they painted a picture of the right way to live.
As I grew into adulthood, the life lessons did not stop – and neither did the stories…some of which I had heard so many times, I could tell them as if they happened to me. But, they took on new meaning as I began my work life, got married, and started a family.
Mind you, none of this is to anoint sainthood on dad. He was far from perfect, as he would be the first to admit. Dad and I had our less than idyllic moments. But, that’s the point. Many of his anecdotes were of the mistakes he had made. - pitfalls he wanted me to avoid. Apologies for times he fell short. He was not bashful in pointing out specific instances where he failed or made the wrong decision. They served as examples.
As an adult, I often reflect on the mistakes I have made in my life. It dawned on me long ago that more often than not….my failures have come when I did not follow my father’s example or advice. And my successes came when I did – the most important of which are my wife and my children.
When it’s all said and done, that’s the most important thing any father can do: teach your children the right way to live and lead by example. If I am half the husband and father that my dad was, that will be my most important success.
So…here we are. Mom and dad are physically gone now; but our family continues to grow. And their legacy lives on is all of us. We leave you with a prayer that has been a part of our home for a long time. We are sure dad would want us to take it to heart now more than ever….
God made us a family.
We need one another.
We love one another.
We forgive one another.
We work together.
We play together.
We worship together.
Together we use God's word.
Together we grow in Christ.
Together we love all people.
Together we serve our God.
Together we hope for heaven.
These are our hopes and ideals.
Help us to attain them, O God
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
