I apologize in advance for the length of this post. My grandfather stepped into eternity early Christmas morning. I've been given the honor of providing his eulogy.
I’ve only ever known one grandfather, Cosmo Russo. I never knew my paternal grandfather.
With complete sincerity, I say to you now that it wasn’t until the moment that I sat down to write this message that I realized this very interesting fact. Very interesting because if I stopped now and said nothing further, I would have shared with you the most important, remembered and loved facts that everyone who knew him knew about his character; he was more than enough. He never left me needing more. He was always there. He was consistent. He was steadfast in his love and his care for me as his grandchild. His heart towards me was as unchanging and as dependable as the moon in the night sky; soft, subtle, bright.
You always knew that whenever you wanted or needed to look up from whatever it was that life had you wrapped around, he would be there. Maybe he’d give you his short little snicker-like laugh out of the side of his mouth, or maybe he’d recycle with you yet again one of his corny “canardly”-type jokes that he loved to tell and then laugh about as if it were the latest in cutting-edge humor, or maybe he’d just sit there to talk with you and listen patiently with whatever it was that you needed to say.
I spoke with many people as I was preparing this message. Every single person, without pause, prodding or qualification had this exact same thought first in their mind; “He was always there, always calm, always loving.”
For my part, my very best and most prized memories of him come from his visits to our home on Federal Street in Salem when I was very young. My brother and I would sit right up next to him, one as close to each side of him as we could get, and he’d tell us all about his time in the Navy during WWII, his job as an auto-body mechanic, my mom and aunts as kids, and so on. He’d answer all of our questions with patience and completeness, no matter how many times we’d ask the same one or however hard it was for us to understand what he was talking about.
The very first piece of wisdom that he ever shared with my brother and me came when we’d asked why he joined the Navy. He told us that after Pearl Harbor he knew that he was going to be drafted, which was just fine with him given that he wanted to defend his country. But if he was going to join the war it was going to be how he wanted to do it. It was going to be on his terms. He wasn’t willing to turn that decision over to anyone else. His logic in joining the Navy, in particular, was that not only did you get to see more of the world, but you always had a warm bed and a hot meal. Now, what could be better than that?
Over the last 38 years I’ve learned many more things from my grandfather. Most importantly, my relationship with him and his personal example to me taught me more than any other person in my life about being a man, about providing for my family and about the kind of love that my family should expect from me.
It was my grandfather that instilled in me a positive work ethic. He was the only man that I knew with a consistent job. With absolutely no disrespect to my parents, whom I love dearly, it has never been lost on me that, at any given time, if we really needed something it was him that could provide it. I would say with confidence that it wasn’t simply the ignorance of youth that prevented me from worrying about heat in the winter, clothes on my back, or a car to get places in. It was the fact that, if necessary, he was always there and ready to give without asking for anything in return. Nor was it ever lost on me that he owned and lived in the same home my entire life. He defined stability.
I know that my grandfather wasn’t a rich man, but he truly never seemed to me to want for anything. He worked, he saved, he provided. He was the only man in my life that I could ever say that about with consistency.
His best example of character to me and to everyone else that knew him was how well and diligently he cared his wife in the last years of her life. He never gave up on her throughout her entire illness. He made sure that his wife spent all of her days in their home and as comfortable as she could possibly be, no matter how difficult it became. I’ll consider myself a successful man, if I’m able to show even half the care and patience for my wife and children as he did his.
I’d like to share with you some of the memories and thoughts that I’ve been able to gather from others over the last couple of days, so I’ll finish my personal thoughts and memories of my Grandfather with this:
I’ve not only lost my grandfather and the best example of a man in my life, but I’ve also lost my last personal connection with the Greatest Generation. When our country was attacked and needed defending, my grandfather was very proudly one of the brave men of his generation that stood up, fought hard and so handily defeated America’s aggressors. He was there at Omaha Beach on D-Day, diligently serving on board the USS Carmick as America’s soldiers began the long march to Berlin from the Atlantic Wall. His generation has survived and witnessed WWII, Korea, Vietnam, the cold war, the Persian Gulf War, and even today’s current war on terrorism as well as all the skirmishes, conflicts and political crisis in between. When not fighting side by side on the frontlines, they’ve been at home providing wisdom and support.
The provision and support of the Greatest Generation is nothing to consider trite or cliché. Their generation has been tempered in the flames of a multitude of times and experiences that every succeeding generation has only experienced a shadow of; the great depression, the dustbowl, the building and the rebuilding of America’s industries, communism, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the Marshall plan, the house Un-American Activities Committee, black & white and color television, Rosa Parks, the Federal Highway Act, two new states added to the nation, the assassination of President Kennedy & Senator Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the Space Race, Sputnik, microprocessors, Nixon, Watergate, the Arab-oil embargo, Three mile island, Iran-Contra, the space shuttle challenger, Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher, Joseph Stalin, Apartheid, the rise and fall of the Berlin Wall, and so on through to today. I could continue for hours reciting to you the seemingly endless lists of key times, events and personalities that he lived through. I’ll never know and trust anyone so well as my grandfather that can share with me first-hand what it was like to live through so many world changing times and events.
It was during the time that defined my grandfather’s generation that he met and married my grandmother, Mary, and therefore defined himself. When he told me that the Navy would let him see the world, I learned later in life that he wasn’t just talking about other countries. It was in his wife and family that he saw the world, and he would do all he could to move it for them, if necessary.
We’ll be interring my grandfather with full military honors. In light of that, and in recognition of his selfless service to his country in a time of great need, let me share with you some things about his service that I’ll bet none of you knew. Think about them during the honor ceremony.
Returning to New York June 1, 1943, after delivering a May 8th depth charge attack on his first enemy contact, the USS Carmick stood north for training in Casco Bay. While running in a fog on June 16, 1943, his ship struck a submerged object, which sent it back to Boston for four months of repairs. Cosmo met his future wife Mary and first visited what was to become the place he called home for the rest of his life.
After meeting and falling in love with Mary, he went back to the war, promising to write often and return to her as soon as he could; a promise that he obviously kept. The Carmick made depth charge attacks on enemy submarines, successfully dodged torpedoes and from Plymouth, England prepared for its role in the mighty naval force mounting the invasion of Europe. On June 6, 1944(D-Day), the Carmick took station guarding the flanks of the leading ships off of Omaha Beach, acting as an anti-submarine and anti-E-boat screen. As the infantrymen began to move ashore, Carmick provided pin-point gunfire support, knocking out enemy strong points. My grandfather remained with his ship off the beachhead through June 17th, firing against enemy air attacks and guarding the great numbers of ships moving into the area to support forces ashore. On June 10th, they splashed a German Heinkel bomber.
Screening duty in the English Channel preceded Carmick's departure for the Mediterranean on July 18, 1944. Convoy duty in connection with the buildup for the Invasion of Southern France continued until August 15th, the day of the preliminary attacks on the coast between Toulon and Cannes. Once more his ship was in the van of the invasion fleet, with duties similar to those at Normandy. On August 18th, my grandfather’s ship destroyed its first enemy E-boat. From there, they supported the consolidation of the beachhead by convoy escort duty in the western Mediterranean until September 23, when the ship cleared for New York City.
As we reflect on my grandfather’s life in the following days and what it meant to us, I would strongly encourage us all to share freely with one another our personal emotions and memories of him. This is the time to talk about them, this is the moment in which we’ve stored them up for use; to grieve, to comfort, to honor.
My aunt Patty can share with you that her father had a gift of insight, even when he lacked definitive information. When she was 13 and experiencing problems with her appendix, despite the panic that others had around her condition, he knew what was happening in her life. He knew where she was. He was quick to pick up on things and once onto something, he never gave up. He set the higher standard for her in the care of her children and husband. If there is one thing that my Aunt Patty can point to specifically that she is most grateful for it’s that no matter what was happening, her mother and father stuck tightly together. You simply could not divide them.
My mother, Sharon, always felt that her father was THE foundation to her family. Everyone loved him without exception and he was always there for everyone. I’m sure that she’ll willingly tell you first-hand what he did and how he was there for her without delay whenever she needed him, even into her fifties. There were no questions or accusations; only loving help. Ask her about the bread his mother gave him when he was a boy. Ask her about the first ride he took my grandmother on in his MG or about their ride out through the Mojave Desert on the way to California, when he mistook Patty’s leg for a snake.
Auntie Shirley told me the other day her best memory of her father. After her husband passed away, she didn’t know what to do or where to go. After asking him this very question his response was quick and firm; “You’re coming home.” When he saw how lonely she was he not only let her get a dog to keep her company, but found it for her and drove her all the way to Oxford at a moment’s notice to pick it up. My aunt will tell you, as she told me, that her father was the greatest man that she ever knew.
Ask anyone about Cosmo’s love for cars in general and about his Camero, in particular. If you knew him, I really don’t think that I need to say anything more about that, though I will add this: he was found lying next to the Camero.
I’ve already shared with you some memories of my brother and me. The both of us have served in the Navy. We’re thankful for the opportunity and experience, which was a direct result of our grandfather’s influence in our lives.
I know that my grandfather considered Billy and Glen the sons that he never had. Just a couple of weeks or so ago, Billy was called and came over on short notice to help repair the sink. Cosmo met their father while working at Davy Chevrolet. Given how prominent they’ve all been in one another’s lives that should tell you even more about the kind of friend my grandfather was to people; his friendship with a man at work extended into a deeply personal relationship with the man’s sons. Cosmo had the run of Billy’s shop. If he wasn’t at home or Dunkin Donuts, he was at the shop, either hanging around and joking or helping somehow with the business.
Go over to the Dunkin Donuts near his house and you’ll find his picture on the wall surrounded by his friends. It’s been there for years, just like him. Again, this is the kind of man he was, loved and loving; non-judgmental, friendly, accepting.
My grandfather’s illness came on him suddenly and his time in the hospital was brief, just the way he would have wished things to happen. When he was still in the hospital, we prayed and wept for him; worrying about his health and comfort. Now that he’s passed away, I’m caught thinking about King David of Israel and how he wept for and mourned his son in 2 Samuel 12:15-23. David was so utterly consumed with grief while the baby was ill, lying face down on the ground in sackcloth and not eating or drinking anything, that his servants feared terribly to tell him when the baby died on the seventh day. Of course, they eventually had to tell him, and if you’re familiar with this story, you’ll know how completely surprised they were in how he received this news. He got up, washed, got dressed and began eating. He moved on with living and began comforting his wife, Bathsheba.
Puzzled at this curious change of behavior, of course, the servants asked him about it. His answer was incredibly wise, insightful and enormously comforting. He said:
"While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, 'Who knows whether the LORD will be gracious to me, that the child may live?' But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me."
You see, what’s a key comfort in these verses to me (particularly in a time like this) is that David knew, through the hope that God freely provides for his children, that he would see and be with his child again. His behavior showed clearly that there was no uncertainty in his mind about this. Like David, every one of us has the exact same and only hope in Jesus Christ for ourselves and those that we love.
This hope is given freely by God and requires no work from you or me.
David wrote most of the Psalms and in them you can know clearly the kingdom and peace that await those that the Lord has saved, those that have accepted His gift. You can see easily the glory that David knew his lost child in.
When we cry now, when we mourn, it’s for our loss, not my grandfather’s. Sadly for us, he’s in eternity now. If we’re to have any expectation of seeing him or anyone we love again in glory, it’s going to be through the same hope that David had; the hope of a very real and living redeemer. Now is the time for us to privately look inward and to be honest with ourselves. Do we have the hope of a redeemer? If we do, then there’s truly no greater comfort that can be had in any sadness.
