Friends, New and Old

My dad has to be the friendliest person I've ever met.

Once, in Monaco, he saw a man walking in a torrential rain on the side of the road. My father stopped and picked up the man who happened to be a priest. My father invited him to come stay with us. I don't remember the situation why the priest was walking in the rain, but I do remember my father's generosity, unselfishness and friendliness. The gentleman stayed with us a few days. He ate with us at home and when we went to the restaurant. He just became part of our family for those few days.

The epitome of my father's outgoing, loving and lovable personality happened the day after he passed away.

My parents had gone to Cozumel on vacation several years before and met a couple from Minnesota. They hit it off right away and actually stayed in touch via e-mail, planning their next vacation together. When Mike and Heidi found out that my father had passed from this earth, they immediately asked when the funeral was because they had no doubts that they would attend. This wonderful couple had met my parents for one week on vacation several years before and yet my dad made such an impression on them that they did not hesitate to travel to Houston from Minnesota at a moments notice to be with Mom.

My mother did not want to have a service for my father when he passed away, other than the immediate family, my sister and her husband, my wife and me. But the phone calls kept coming... "When is François funeral?". Reluctantly my mother agreed. And for the next few days, phone calls after phone calls assured her that she was doing the right thing.

We didn't have a funeral, but rather a memorial service. I had the privilege to be the one that spoke at Dad's memorial service. They were somewhere around 60 people that squeezed into the mausoleum I recounted the story about Mike and Heidi that I just mentioned above. Dad was a character, and that was good. He was a friend, and that showed. He was a husband and a father, and that was what he did best.