The Funeral
Saturday, December 20th, 2003
The morning afforded my aunt's family and I just enough time to have a leisurely breakfast and prepare for the funeral mass. Edward (the son of Fred's brother Hilary), Graham, Jeff, Wayne, dad's brother Gerry and myself arrived a little early so we could receive pall-bearing direction from a representative of the funeral home.
The funeral coach pulled up to the entrance of the church where the six of us took hold of the casket. We solemnly carried Dad up the church steps and into the foyer where a type of dolly was stationed. We placed the casket upon the dolly and wheeled it into the church where Father Fleming and Father David were waiting. They said a few words while we placed the pall upon the casket.
We then wheeled Dad up the aisle where he had walked mere weeks before to receive communion. About a couple of dozen members of the Christophers Leadership Program stood in the aisle at the ends of the pews. Most of these were Dad's colleagues in the public speaking courses he was an instructor of. They each held a lit candle which is a symbol of the Christophers' mandate.
The service itself was very beautiful and I'm sure Dad would have approved.
A very moving homily was given by Deacon Tom. I have asked my family to
choose excerpts which I can post here. An equally moving and rousing tribute
was given by my brother. His trademark dramatic flair and humor nicely
complemented Deacon Tom's sentiments. Here is the complete text of his
speech:
Jeff's Eulogy
"We’ve all had a near-death experience. It’s called living.
Let’s demonstrate it now. Everybody take a deep breath with me. In, out.
How do you summarize 66 years of life in a few minutes? I know one person that could do it … but he’s not here right now.
So I suppose I’ll start at the beginning. In the beginning, God said “Let there be Fred.” He was born into a family of loving parents, 3 brothers and a sister.
If I were to summarize my father in one word – which is not easy – my dad was a builder. He had a passion for wood. He’d make fences, decks, tables, benches, cabinets, couches, etc.
But while wood was his hobby, his passion, his life, was people. If you want a measure of success, if you want to know the legacy that Fred Zuzarte left, look around you. Look at all those who are here – and those who are not here – and see how many lives he touched.
He built healthy lives through his work with the Heart & Stroke Foundation. He told people to eat right, get plenty of exercise, and he lived that to the fullest.
He built healthy minds with his work in the Christophers. [The Christophers is an organization that teaches people to first gain confidence in themselves, then express it to others through public speaking, etc.] I was speaking with one of his students last night [Angie Bernard] and she said that my father changed her life. What a compliment!
My dad also built awareness, debate and controversy. He was a skilled debater. I’m sure my grandfather met him at the pearly gates saying “Fred, come. I’ve been waiting to talk to you.” The two of them regularly enjoyed a good argument.
He also built awareness of his heritage. He was a proud, proud man. He was from Pakistan, and he made sure everyone knew it. He was living proof that while you may remove yourself from a country, you cannot remove the country from yourself.
It was there he met a special woman, a smart woman. That’s something my dad and I have in common. We both found women that were smarter than us, but not smart enough to avoid the Zuzarte charm.
And it was with her that he started the core of his legacy, his true legacy: his family.
He has five children: Gillian (the teacher), David (difficult to label, but I’ll call him a computer expert with a passion for music, and always reaching beyond his limits), Karen (a healer of the body, a physiotherapist) – and her husband-to-be Graham, Donna (a healer of the mind, a counsellor studying to be a nurse) – and her husband Wayne -- and Jeff (me) and my wife Paddy. Again, I’m hard to label as well. The scientist in me wants Dad to report back with any data he’s gathered so far because I’m really curious. And the writer in me commends him for taking the next step in the journey, for embracing the next big adventure.
He has three grandchildren: my son Avery (1 year old), Karen and Graham’s daughter Danika (3 months old) and Donna is currently hosting the baby to be named later – we’re at T minus 3 months. They brought such joy into his life, and he into theirs. They will know him through their grandmother, and their aunts and uncles.
This is a celebration of his life, of his exuberance, of his effect on our lives. We must continue to celebrate. Think about that. How are you going to continue to celebrate what Fred Zuzarte has given you? We must remember what we have learned.
I’ll close with a quotation that most of you won’t know, except perhaps for Jamie and Dave. It was about wartime, but I think it applies here as well:
“Run. When you can’t run, walk. When you can’t walk, crawl. And when you can’t do that, find someone to carry you.”
Dad, I will carry you for the rest of my days, because you carried me for most of mine thus far. I will never be the man that you were, but I will make you proud. One day I want you to point and say “See that father that’s teaching his son how to inhale a chocolate cake all at once? I built that.”
Thank you."
At the end of the service, we carted Dad past the candle light honor guard being careful not to step on their toes. Generally speaking, the ritual for bringing Dad into the church was performed in reverse. Signs of bereavement abounded amongst the congregation as we all realized this was our final opportunity to say goodbye. We all watched in silence as the funeral coach pulled out of the parking lot and drove out of sight.
We all then adjourned to the church hall for lunch and fellowship. My uncle Lance was kind enough to lead us all in his Cursillo blessing and my sister Donna said a few words as well. I set up the slide show one last time for the benefit of those who were not able to make it on Friday. More greetings were bestowed upon those who had come to pay their respects. A few family pictures were taken before we eventually had to pack things up and leave the hall.
The official wake was then held at the Zuzarte household. All of my father's
unfinished construction projects were pointed out to the guests. A few
of these kindly offered their assistance in completing them. More stories
were exchanged and good times recalled. Gradually, the crowd dispersed
until the Zuzarte core was alone once again. I called it a day and hitched
a ride home with my uncle.
Sunday
The morning marked a return to the football field for me. My friends offered their condolences and welcomed me back after the prolonged absence. It was a beautiful sunny morning and it felt good to get out in the fresh air. Although we lost, I managed to score three of our team's five touchdowns. I dedicated all of these to my fallen father with a view toward his matching commitment to fitness.
My buddy Rob drove me back to the family home. We grabbed some lunch and had a few more guests over. After making a pit stop at my house and dropping off some pots to a family friend who made chicken curry for us, Donna drove our cousin Mia and myself to Jeff and Paddy's house where we took time out to have dinner and play Trivial Pursuit.
Monday
This was a rainy and miserable day from start to finish. After getting up, I just had enough time to shower and get ready for the interrment ceremony being held at St. Joseph's. I allowed enough time for bus delays given the inclement weather. The fog was especially thick which might explain why I had to wait for 10 minutes. When a bus finally arrived, there were another two behind it by only a few minutes.
I arrived at the cemetery breathless to find my family, Father Fleming and Deacon Tom waiting by the burial site. They had said a couple of decades of the rosary in preparation for the main rite. Jeff was carrying the marble urn containing Dad's ashes. This was dropped into the grave after prayers were offered in Dad's honor. Jeff asked me to say a few words at which time I assured Dad that he had taught us well and that we would make sure that future generations were told about him and his values. Father Fleming, Deacon Tom and Gillian then sprinkled holy water on the urn.
After thanking Father Fleming and Deacon Tom, we returned to the family home for some lunch. Gillian and I played with the babies while the rest of the family had a game of cards. It soon came time for Karen and family to get ready for the flight back home. We said our goodbyes secure in the knowledge we would be seeing Karen and the baby again in February. This was her original planned visit serving as a precursor for her wedding in June.
Not long after that, I departed as well and did some grocery shopping before returning home. All in all, everything went quite smoothly since this ball started rolling on the 12th. The efforts and cooperation of everyone involved was tremendous and words can't express our gratitude to all of those who sacrificed their time and talent to pay tribute to this great man.
As our Uncle Larry so wisely reminded us, we are not saying goodbye to
Dad. We look forward to seeing him again when it comes time for God to
welcome us into his heavenly kingdom. Merry Christmas everyone and all
the best you and your family in 2004.
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