One of the greatest traits about my grandfather, and there were so many it feels almost foolish to settle upon but one, was his self-effacing attitude. Above all, he never considered himself the big shot he really was. For despite his intelligence, his considerable accomplishments in chemistry and business, and his excellent oratory skills, he stayed grounded–yet always focused on what ultimately mattered.
And what mattered to him most was doing what was best for his family. He did what he did for the right reasons; he did what he believed was right; he did these things extremely well. Those he cared for and loved never wanted for anything. Be it love, be it financial assistance, or support, Lawrence F. Marnett served as a formidable presence in so many lives, an unwavering beacon of stability among the tempest.
From him came what seemed like an endless supply of unconditional love. Whether I succeeded or stumbled, he was there every step of the way, always in my corner, always ready to listen. He gave me all the approval I could ever want, and his only great expectation was that I do what made me happy. He put his family first, and himself second.
Grandpa was so fond of telling stories, and a true master of the anecdote. In his memory, I’d like to share a favorite.
The night I graduated from college, he took a small group out for dinner. Returning to the hotel lobby, the sounds of another type of celebration greeted us. A wedding reception in a nearby conference room. Grandpa and I looked at each other and reached the same critical conclusion at once. Weddings equal open bar. Much later, when my grandmother found us in the hallway, standing with a beer in each hand, she said, “Larry, did you crash that wedding?”
Without a pause, Grandpa answered: “Boy made me do it.”
Lawrence F. Marnett was a father, a husband, a business man, a story teller, and an executive. He was fiercely loved and he will be greatly missed.
And to me, he will forever be the greatest Grandfather, and the greatest man I can ever hope to become.
I’m sorry for your loss Sam, but you have written a fitting and moving tribute.
I’m sorry to hear about your loss.
That was a beautiful eulogy about your grandfather. Puts life into perspective. I am sorry for your loss. Sounds like your grandfather will stay with you forever in spirit and thoughts.
Thanks, Jaysen. I appreciate it. He was a major influence.
Thanks so much, Debra. Although my grandfather never wrote, he really was the master of the anecdote. At more than one event I witnessed him receive a standing ovation for verbal prowess.
Fran, he’ll always be in my heart. I was the luckiest grandson.
I agree with the others. Terribly sorry about your loss. This was a fitting eulogy.