Requiem for Papa

I wrote the eulogy for Papa and read it at his funeral on June 30, 2015. The few words I’ve set aside for him in his obituary and eulogy still cannot begin to cover the man and his life. As a family historian, I am honored to have been the one to honor him in this way.

We are here to honor the memory of a man who was a better person than I could ever even attempt to be, though I’ll try. My Papa, James McNeely, was not just one in a million; he was one in infinity.

Of all the things that Papa taught me while I was young, one thing features most prominently. When I’d encountered an unfamiliar word or struggled with the spelling of one, I’d ask Papa what it meant or how to spell it. He’d just look at me and bluntly issue his order to, “Look it up.” This would frustrate me to no end. In my mind, I’d launch a diatribe on my way to the bookcase where his trusty dictionary sat. “Look it up!? Why does he always have to tell me to look it up!? He knows the answer. He can just tell me the answer.” The whole idea seemed entirely absurd that I should have to take all of this extra time just to figure out the spelling or definition of some stupid, useless word when there is a walking dictionary sitting across the table from me. Of course, we also had a set of encyclopedias in the home. If I had a question for homework about geography or history or anything really, the default response was still, “Look it up.” You have to understand that I was very upset about this whole process. It seemed like Papa was simply withholding information to torture me. Eventually, I stopped asking Papa those types of questions. I cut out the middleman and simply looked whatever it was up.

Those three simple words, “Look it up,” became the framework for my mind. What I hadn’t realized is that he had lit a fire inside of me; fostering critical thinking, igniting a love of words, and creating a thirst for knowledge that can never be quenched. Unfortunately, I’ve become a little obsessed with looking things up. I’m okay with this, but I can’t say the same for whoever is trying to watch TV or a movie with me. “Is it based on a true story? Well, now I have to find out the truth! Who is that actor? I have to look it up! No, it can’t wait until it’s over.” Of course, then we have to rewind the part I missed. I am sure that they are very upset with the whole process. Why should their TV show have to stop while I take all of this extra time just to figure out the definition of that word or the key points about the historical figure on the screen? Even casual conversation is rarely without a “look it up” incident. I have to know if that politician really said that and it has to come from a credible source. I need to know everything and then maybe I’ll know half as much as Papa.

There were a lot of things I didn’t understand when I was young. I spread my wings far too early and when I’d left home, I didn’t at all know the man that raised me. But, with age comes hindsight and wisdom; understanding and perhaps enlightenment. My entire life, I’d kept everyone around me at what I felt was a “safe distance,” whether merely an arm’s length or thousands of miles, pushing those most important to me the furthest away. It wasn’t until I put over 300 miles between us that I met Papa for the first time. In the five years that I lived in Pennsylvania, I travelled back and forth to Boston every chance I could. Papa and I spent long nights chatting away. This was the first time in my life we’d really talked openly and honestly, and it was in these nighttime chats that we came to know one another. The man I’d found there humbled me in a way that I cannot possibly explain. James McNeely; the proud, stubborn son of Irish immigrants. They simply do not build them any stronger. Adamant and relentless; there was no obstacle to which he would concede, no fate he would accept. Though it wasn’t always clear to the casual observer, he loved with everything he had and until his last breath. Papa didn’t just love his family, he loved humanity. He was driven to help in any way he could. He released so much good into this world, set adrift solely on the hope that he would make a difference for someone. Life is hard for everyone, but he had a good one and lived every ounce to its fullest potential. He married the girl he loved with all of his heart, the one girl that made his world stop spinning until it would spin with hers into eternity. She gave him two beautiful sons and they began to build the home where their heart would live, starting in a small apartment in East Boston. There were some surprises on the way, myself included; but my parents took it in stride. Together, they were truly a team. They were best friends and staunch allies. What they have has always been beautiful and something that has become a rarity in this world. I say it like that because death cannot sever that bond. Love is eternal. Papa may not be here, but his love lives in our hearts. He may not be here, but when he said “until death do we part,” he had his fingers crossed. The love between Papa and his girl transcends this place. Their hearts beat as one. He may not be here, but he is not gone. Now it’s our job to love a little harder and laugh a little louder, to keep our loved ones close, and honor his memory through the good that we do.

We love you, Papa, and we will take care of each other so you don’t have to worry. You just enjoy your time with your brothers and sister until we see you again. But, if you need me, I’ll be in the corner looking something up.

James Francis Xavier McNeely

James Francis Xavier McNeely, 84, of Saugus passed away on June 25, 2015 after a short illness at the Soldier’s Home in Chelsea. Born on December 14, 1930 and raised in Dorchester, James was the son of the late Thomas and Mary Ellen (Reynolds) McNeely.

James was a paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne Division, veteran of the Korean War, and lifelong member of the VFW. He was an alumni of both Boston College and Boston University. He worked as a juvenile parole officer, guidance counselor at the Northeast Metropolitan Regional Vocational High School in Wakefield, and substance abuse rehabilitation counselor. He spent the entirety of his professional career tirelessly dedicated to improving the lives of teens and young adults who may otherwise have had no one to rely on. His warmth and understanding touched the hearts of all who were blessed by his presence in their lives. He was a light in the darkness for many, and the rock on which his family could always depend. His loss is felt deeply and his presence in this world will be greatly missed.

He was the devoted husband of Estelle (Terramagra) McNeely and dedicated father of Thomas, Kevin, and his adopted granddaughter Tara McNeely. He leaves behind his grandsons Sean and Liam McNeely; his great-granddaughter and biggest fan, Sylvia Hope; and several nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by three brothers and one sister.

See more at: http://www.bisbeeporcella.com/obituary/James-F.-McNeely/Saugus-MA/1522391#sthash.aK5wVL6D.dpuf