Eulogy for My Beloved Papa
Sylvester H. "Ves" Lathen
1-26-1918 to 2-21-2013
Given at Leavenworth National Cemetery
March 1, 2013
At 2:04 this
morning, I finally sat down to write what I’m about to share. It’s not that I hadn't been thinking about it non-stop or that I haven’t been playing, quite
literally, thousands of memories in my mind since last Thursday. My problem: How
do I sum up, in five minutes, the entirety of what this amazing man accomplished
in his 95 years, much less the impact he’s had on my life?
Sylvester H.
Lathen…affectionately known to most people as Ves. Some of you knew him as Dad,
some as Grandpa or Great-Grandpa. But to me, he was Papa…always in my heart
synonymous for HERO.
He was the
first man I ever loved. He’d wrap me up in those big sailor arms, scented with
Old Spice. Highlights of my childhood were summers spent on the farm with Papa
& Gran. I’d watch countless hours of Popeye,
Bugs Bunny and Sylvester & Tweety
while playing paper dolls with Papa. He had the patience of a saint as he
answered my plethora of questions about every imaginable topic. I’m sure he must
have been counting the seconds until Gran would return to help entertain me,
but he never once showed it. He always
made me feel like the most important little girl in the world.
He continued
that love with my children, welcoming each one with his warm hugs and his warm belly, the best baby napping
place in the world, as countless photos with all seven of us grandkids and 30
great-grandkids bear witness. I feel blessed, as I know my brothers and my
cousins do, to have been loved by this extraordinary man for so many years, and
I hope you great-grandkids realize how rare it is that you've experienced this
treasure as well.
He welcomed
not only our children as we expanded (and expanded and expanded) his legacy,
but also each of our spouses. Papa and my husband became fast friends and buddies
when we married on his 94th birthday, and Scott was the lucky one in
the family to last hear Papa’s voice. After joking that he was going to look
like “Santie Claus” from his lack of shaving during his hospital stay, Papa let
out his contagious belly laugh and gave Scott a playful, “Ho, ho, ho!”
He sure made
us laugh every day with his ornery sense of humor. Sharp as a tack, he tossed his
wit around so quick you’d be doubled over laughing before you ever knew what
hit you. And there he’d sit…with his sly little grin. I sometimes think he
missed his calling….he would have made one heck of a comedian.
Papa loved his
BBQ, a good medium rare steak, peanut butter & onion sandwiches…and maybe
just a hint of Ancient Age. “You are
My Sunshine” was one of his favorite tunes. He cherished growing up on the farm
with his parents, Frank & Bertha, and his brother Gene. He had a soft spot
for his little curly blonde-haired daughter, Generia, and also treasured his
16-year-old daughter, Ann, whom he later inherited when he married Billye Sue
Berryhill in 1963. He took great pleasure in being a long-time Mason and
Shriner, and traveling the 50 states with his beautiful Sue. And he always
looked forward to Lathen family reunions with his beloved cousins, nephews and
extended family.
Papa had a
heart of gold and, despite his sometimes crusty Navy exterior, he was really just
a big ol’ softy, who could be reduced to tears at any sentimental moment.
He was,
hands-down, the most patriotic man I've ever known, a dedicated Navy Chief so
incredibly proud to have served his country for 30 years. And he shared the
best stories about his times at sea. I can never listen to “The Star-Spangled
Banner” or watch the American flag
fly without thinking of Papa. I loved following him to the flagpole at dusk to
witness the pure ceremony with which
he would lower “Old Glory,” and then raise her again at sunrise.
He cared for
my Gran with this same reverence. She was the “Sunshine” with whom he spent
nearly 44 years. The last several years of Gran’s life, I witnessed him devotedly
cared for her throughout her courageous battle with Alzheimer’s, a disease that
robbed her of so very much…yet she always knew his face, his voice and his touch. He would sit beside her and
hold her hand for hours.
On one of
those occasions, I overheard him whisper to her: “We sure have had a good life,
haven’t we?”
“We sure
have,” she said.
“I’d do it
all over again, wouldn't you?” he asked.
She smiled
and said, “I sure would.”
Many times following
Gran’s death, I’d notice Papa staring pensively out the window and ask what he
was thinking. I already knew the answer. “I miss my Sunshine,” he’d say.
I once asked
Papa to finish this sentence: If I had my life to live over, I would…
His words?
“I’m pretty
well satisfied, Suzy. I've had a pretty good life all around.”
I know there
must have been a remarkable reunion in heaven last Thursday morning as Sue threw
her arms around her husband and welcomed him Home, and I know this time he’s never letting go of his Sunshine.
