(October 29, 1946-July 10, 2000)
Let me tell you a little bit about my father in law. He was a hard worker, a loving father, and a devoted husband. He worked in a maximum security prison in Pennsylvania. He loved to have fun. He loved going camping, and to amusement parks. He searched for the biggest roller coaster he could find.
He was a great, loving man. He adored his family very much. He and Marie together just seeped with devotion. His relationship with Paul was that of a Father and Son that truly treasured each other, and the time they had together. My father in law was full of tenderness for just about everyone he met.
He found out he had cancer in early 1995. He had a radical neck surgery done, and lived a cancer free life for four years, one month. In October of �99 they did another surgery, in which they removed about 3 inches of his jaw, along with about half of his tongue. He defied the odds (which he loved to do) and was able to speak clearly and eat. We all went on planning our lives, with Dad in it. Then, in late February, Dad and Marie left Paul and I know that they had found more cancer. Surgery was scheduled, but had to be postponed so Dad could retire. Dad had surgery on March 23rd, where they removed a bit more of his tongue, and the rest of his jaw on the one side. Afterward, we were told that the prognosis wasn�t good. Dad�s cancer had spread into his lymph and nervous system.
He went on with his life, as normal. He was going through radiation treatments at the time. After a few weeks, he was unable to speak or eat anymore. He began speaking with his hands and with the written word. He knew when he was getting worse, but he still was strong for everyone around him. He renewed his relationship with God, and was in peace that he was going to go to Heaven. He did go home on July 10, 2000. He is very missed.
Dad told us recently he had a good life. He said for us not to grieve for him; but what about ourselves? He was so precious and meaningful in our lives, and now he is gone. how do you go through a loss without grief? He has left our lives far to soon, so I grieve.
I grieve for not hearing his voice. It was a voice of a caring compassionate man; a voice that gently reprimanded, and spoke often of love.
I grieve for him not being here to share in the most exciting times in my life. Dad won't be here to welcome my children into our lives. My kids will never meet him face to face, but they'll know him; they'll know their grandpa George, and they'll know he would have loved them.
I grieve for the loss of the man I strive to be like. he taught me to be the man that I am, the husband that I am, and he taught me how to be a father to the children I yet to have.
I grieve for not hearing the echoes of laughter he brought. It was amazing how he could walk into a room and bring joy. His famous saying to Connie was, "I wouldn't pick on you if I didn't love you." That he did. He had such a big, wonderful, giving, loving heart.
I grieve for not seeing his face. We all know at the end of the day the sun will set. We find ourselves fumbling through the darkness until the sun rises again in the morning. We are in the darkness right now, but the sun will rise, I will see my dad again. He will have his piece of heaven ready for us. I am sure he will be there to greet us with open arms, as well as with the biggest, fastest, tallest roller coaster I have ever seen.
I grieve for not feeling the touch of his hands. His hands were the hands of a great man, a loyal and loving husband, a caring father, and a hard worker. His hands showed love and discipline, sometimes at the same time. When I was younger, he would hold my hand just to comfort me. The way he held Marie showed an undying love. He spoke volumes about his love for her just through the way his hands touched her. Those hands outstretched welcomed Connie with unconditional love. Through the last few months, the only way dad could express himself was with his hands. He would squeeze our hands to let us know he loved us. Along with that, he was telling us he was going to be okay. Now, someone is holding his hand. Jesus stretched out his nail-scarred hand to welcome my dad home.
I grieve for not hearing his words of wisdom. He let me know what he thought about my career and my life. He wasn't disappointed in me, ever. He was ALWAYS telling us to smile.
So you see Dad, I have to grieve for you. I have to grieve because I love you, and I miss you. And I am sorry Dad, but don't ask me to smile... Not today, not yet.
To think of George is to think of Laughter.
He loved to joke and have a good time.
And if it was time to work, George was still the first one in line.
And if he didn't know how, George would ask, Teach me?
That�s George, and that's the way George would want us to remember him
Even when times grew tough, and living was more difficult,
it was still easy to love George; for George was still filled with Love.
When it would have been easier for him to be selfish, George still thought about those he loved first.
That's George, and that's the way he would want us to remember him.
George was a wonderful man, husband, father, and friend.
He will be missed by ALL who knew him.
Becky Rossi
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