I recently wrote Grandma DeGriselles (my Mommy) a letter. They're having a service for Grandpa July 15th. Hopefully, each of you received the announcement with an insert that contains a great picture of Grandpa. Anyway, I wrote Mom a letter, a sort of eulogy. I thought I would e-mail you a copy but then remembered none of you have downloaded the FREE Open Office package (it's just like Microsoft Office Suite, but it's free!). So, you likely can't open it. Instead, I've cut and pasted it. Here it is, in full. Mom decided she wanted to have it read, so I see no problem in sharing at this point.

July 2, 2011

June DeGriselles

15370 Ferguson Avenue

Detroit, MI 48227

Dear Mom;

I hope this finds you well. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to Detroit this month for Dad's service, but I am grateful I was able to be there just before he passed. I was thinking about it, and Sharon suggested I write. I don't know why I didn't think of it, but she comes up with lots of good ideas. I want to write a few thoughts. First, something of a eulogy for Dad, some things I would say if I were there at his service. Second, some thoughts Sharon and I have and would like to express about the eternal nature of things, again as if we were there. So, bear with me. If you'd like to keep this letter completely private, that's okay with me. If however, you'd like to share it, or perhaps have someone read it, or portions of it, at the service, that is fine with me as well.

While I'll focus on Dad in this letter, as it is his service, please never forget the fact that I'm proud to be your son as well. You have always been a light for me. From your artistic endeavors to your care and thoughtfulness, I've always thought of you as an ideal Mom. I believe my love of art, my love of literature, a love of the finer things in this life, come from you and your tutelage. By the finer things I don't mean riches, a fabulous house or two, or three cars in the garage. I mean by it a wonderful family, a marvelous woman who agreed to marry me, great kids, good books on the shelves, fine art, elevated thoughts that reach above the mundane and everyday. Also, my desire to go past high school, on to college, and eventually to law school, my desire to read extensively and continue learning even though I'm in my chosen profession, comes from you.

But as to Dad. Even though he never completed his high school education, I've always considered him a well educated man. He didn't continue long at the school of the classroom, but instead studied hard in the school of life. He worked hard at everything he did. I remember going with him on his route when he worked for Jewel Tea, and I remember his work in management. I've always found it interesting that many of the men who worked under him still are counted as friends, and still look up to him.

I also remember one thing we may not have discussed. I was on the balcony out the bedroom on the second floor, Dad was on the roof of the garage. As I watched, he slipped, started to fall, and then tipped over head first, falling groundward. I fully expected the worst but was too far away to do anything. I couldn't say anything, or even shout a warning: it happened too fast. Then, somehow, he righted himself mid air, hit the ground feet first with his knees bent, dropped down then rolled into an upright standing position. He dusted himself off, climbed the ladder, and went back on the roof. It happened so quickly that had I blinked I would have missed it. I think that was the first time I really truly understood he had actually been a paratrooper. In that moment, I think his training kicked in and saved his life.

I also remember his famous (or infamous) picnic table leap. At the family reunions, after everyone had eaten and before the picnic table was cleared of food and things, he'd take a running leap and clear the table, appearing to literally fly. I never could do that, even when I was my fittest.

I also remember calling Dad on a number of occasions, asking him for his advice. I always appreciated his willingness to respond with his thoughts, and the good advice he always gave.

One last thing that I need to mention. I don't know how you two did it, but the two of you would let my band play in the basement. How you stood the racket is beyond me: these days I like peace and quiet. Nonetheless, Dad frequently drove us to our engagements in the black bomb (I think that's what the guys in the band called it). We didn't have driver's licenses at first; and even when we did later on, few of us owned cars: I believe Bill Benach did. But Dad saw to it we got where we needed to go. He'd do our sound checks, and he'd stick around to drive us home afterward.

My second reason for writing. You know how I feel religiously. I joined the church in September of 1971. You and Dad came to my baptism. You called me when my mission call came. I was working at Kinsel's downtown, and you asked if you could open the envelope and read the call to me. We found out I was headed to Ecuador, and someone had to look it up on a map. You took me shopping for suits, shoes, and white shirts. You wrote me while I was there. I even received some letters that Dad wrote, which meant a lot to me, considering the fact he never felt comfortable with his writing skills. The letters were good, and I loved receiving them. I met Sharon, and believe I asked her to marry her before you'd even met her. Even though we were married in the Washington D.C. Temple, the two of you supported us. We had a fabulous reception for family after we returned. You might not remember, but we came home from our honeymoon a few days early and surprised all of you. We were married Friday morning in the temple in a small, quiet ceremony. There were four witnesses: Sharon's sister Loretta, who has since passed away, and her husband Cal; also, a young women teacher Sharon had known when she first joined the church had moved to the Washington area. She and her husband also served as witnesses. The sealer chatted with us a bit. He talked about how there could only be one kind of cake in heaven, and that would be chocolate cake, with lots of gooey, rich, chocolate frosting. He then gave us the secret for a happy marriage. He told us that if each of us would see to it that the other always had the biggest piece of chocolate cake, ours would be a good marriage. The rule has served us well, and has helped us to avoid selfishness. After giving that advice, he then sealed us as we held hands across the altar in one of the small sealing rooms.

Thereafter, we spent time in Washington, D.C. It was frigid (I believe temperatures were about ten degrees below zero). I just looked up our honeymoon in my journal. I didn't note the cold, but did note our expenses: a total of $220.34 for everything, and gas was 53 to 60 cents a gallon. But I do have an entry for Monday, December 22^nd: “well, we got to bed about 8 last night, so here we are at 4 in the morning getting ready to leave.” I guess it was so cold, and it was the Christmas holidays, and we both missed family, so we came home early.

As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we believe in a bodily resurrection. We believe we'll be reunited with loved ones in the hereafter. We believe that families are forever, and that family ties can exist beyond the grave. That's the major reason why we build temples in addition to the chapels where we worship each Sunday. In the temples, couples are married for time and eternity, and children born thereafter are “born in the covenant,” and are considered automatically sealed to their parents. And ordinances can be performed for people who did not have a full opportunity to learn the gospel during this life. We believe Dad is a good man and is therefore in a good place. Sharon and I love him and miss him. We love you, a lot. I often wish we lived closer. I regret having our kids so far from you and Dad. I do believe we were led out here to California. Work has been good, I am gainfully employed in a job I like, we have a lovely home, and six great kids. But we wish our kids could have been closer to you. Regardless, they do love you. I know some of them try to keep in touch. Danielle decided to pursue nursing school in Michigan specifically so she could be close to extended family and get to know extended family. She especially wanted to get to know her grandparents better, and she has: both you and Dad, and Mom and Dad Huntsinger. (By the way, I've been very fortunate: I have always thought of them as a second set of parents for me). I know Danielle misses being closer to Sharon and I, but she recently told me she has never regretted her decision to move to Michigan, and loves you and Dad and all the extended family as much as we do.

We love you. We wish you the very best in all things. We love Dad, and know he's well; perhaps, he's feeling better than he has in some time.

Your loving eldest son, Daniel