Tuesday, June 3, 2008

my own thoughts that I shared last Thursday....


Ed started out as my uncle. Thirty-six years ago, I was the ring bearer at his wedding. Twenty-nine years ago, he stood behind me with his right hand on my shoulder as I received the sacrament of confirmation. He was my friend that became more brother than uncle.
My uncle Ed has been known by many names by many people throughout his life. My grandparents gave him the name Eamon, but he was also called “Murphy” or Ed by friends, “Brother Ed,” by his brothers and my mother, and most recently, Eddie. About 25 years ago, my cousin Kevin nick-named him, “Easy.” Being around Uncle Ed was easy.
I know that for all of us here, hanging with Ed was a low stress, genuine, fun relationship in which there were no one put on airs, there was no anxiety, no expectations but plenty of laughing, honesty, profound love, and all the ice cream and snickers bars you could want. Ed gave good hugs. A quick wink of his eye in your direction gave you instant confidence for his love for you as though your relationship with him was confirmed in an instant. Ed took you as you were and demanded the same in return. Each of us has our own unique memories and stories about him, but all of us were drawn to him like fireflies; his light was bright, indeed, and all of us wanted to bask in it. He was happy, and filled with gentle beatitude that knew no end. You were always happy to see him and always sad to leave him, no matter the occasion.
Ed loved life. He loved to travel, hike, fish, play golf, and relax, something all of us could learn from him. He was a hard worker at each career he got into, and was known to treat people fairly in his business practices, but he consistently found ways to relax when most of us were working. To define the total of his life as a victim of sexual abuse would not be accurate. He found many ways to live in spite of that abuse, and rise above it. I am thankful that he lived to see the day the Catholic Church capitulate, admit its many violent wrongs, end it’s over 40 years of denial, and cash his settlement check. Ed, Marty, and John have helped countless people through their courage and bravery in turning behind them to finally slay the dragon that chased them throughout their lives.
His choice of car was consistent with the rest of his personality and was always a convertible. He preferred the sunshine and wind in his hair to air conditioning. He got on a kick for a while in the early 80’s of driving Triumph Spitfires, which were terrible cars, that broke down all the time. His answer to that problem was to buy another one so that one was on the road while the other one was getting fixed. I once rode all the way to Denver in a downpour with the top down because he was convinced we’d get less wet if we just went faster kept going. We got soaked as we laughed our way all the way into a Denver store where he bought us matching Jimmy Buffet T-shirts. Another time, while hauling two tons of wood in the back of his ¾ ton pickup, I asked him why he listened to the same Bob Seger tape 24/7. He told me that he didn’t know how to eject the tape, “and besides,” he said, “I love that guy.” When I then reached for the dash and touched the eject button on my first try and the tape instantly slid out of the radio, his eyes got big, he laughed and exclaimed I was a genius, and destined for greatness. He then downshifted, and steered the truck back in between the white lines as we climbed another steep grade heading up Ute Pass. Speed limit signs, turn signals, and windshield wipers always seemed optional to him.
In the last few years, his need for exercise brought him not to a health club, but to his beloved Rockies alongside his brother John with whom he loved to climb and hike. Ed felt strongly that the Church stole a great measure of his innocence as a child and so it may come as a surprise to many of you that Ed attended church regularly. He worshipped with great piety on the back nine at Kissing Camels, climbed Mount Rosa, and the many other peaks that surround this beautiful part of Colorado. Like St. Francis, he fed all the deer and birds in Woodland Park and along Rigel drive, and loved all dogs and cats. It’s not a big stretch to see that he died extremely pious, doing what he loved, and in his church worshiping in his Rocky Mountain cathedral.
At the same time we rightfully mourn the death of our dad, husband, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend, I know Uncle Easy is at peace in the ultimate Port of Call. He can always get a T-time, the top is always down, Sports Center is always on, and his steak is rare.
His love for Roe, Ashley, Soren, and all of us flows perfectly now. He was not the type of man to die in a nursing home, in hospice, or of old age. We must see that Ed died as he lived, out on the edge, on his own terms, and loved by countless people that his life touched. We’re all better off for having known him, and the pain we feel at losing him simply shows us the authentic love and care each of us had with him. He was a beautiful man; his love and friendship was a gift freely given and often came with chocolate. To have lost Eamon is to be sad for a while, and then be joyful for the grace he brought us all.

Patrick Murphy-Racey
Nephew to Ed Murphy

1 comment:

margotdarby said...

"I am thankful that he lived to see the day the Catholic Church capitulate, admit its many violent wrongs, end it’s over 40 years of denial, and cash his settlement check. Ed, Marty, and John have helped countless people through their courage and bravery in turning behind them to finally slay the dragon that chased them throughout their lives."

Could we be a bit more specific about this? What were the violent wrongs and what was the settlement check? It is very provocative to make a remark like that without filling in the details.