I lost my wonderful husband Bernie, the love of my life, on December 1. His Celebration of Life service yesterday was beautiful and the reception, where many people shared their stories of what a joy it was to know him, was a touching tribute. I am truly grateful and overwhelmed by emotions at the outpouring of love and support.
I will be continuing this blog as I navigate life without Bernie, still unimaginable at this point. Writing is a way I make sense of the world, which is now a world without him. My pain is great but my gratitude for having in my life for 35 years sustains me. I posted the Eulogy I read at the service below and also the link to the slide show that we showed at the reception.
Eulogy for Bernie 12/16/2023
Thank you so much for coming today to celebrate Bernie’s life. Following the service everyone is invited next door to a reception where we can gather, share stories about Bernie, listen to some music, and be together not only to mourn his loss but to share in the joy of knowing him.
As anyone who ever met Bernie knows, it’s not an exaggeration to say that he was truly the nicest guy in the world. He was the sweetest, kindest, most open hearted, giving person I have ever known, and I was lucky enough to be married to him for thirty years.
We met in 1988, on McGee Street in Berkeley, after we’d both been invited to a birthday dinner for a friend he’d met while playing basketball. He worked for the Navy Exchange and had only recently moved here from San Diego. He told me later that one of the first things he always did when he moved to a new city was to find a pickup basketball game as it was a sure way to make friends. We started dating and I did my best to show him around the Bay Area. His delight and enthusiasm gave me a new appreciation for the place I’d grown up in.
In 1989 I took him to spend a weekend with my parents at their off-the-grid cabin in the Sierras in a little town called Graniteville. He was a goner after that. Bernie and I ended up buying that cabin in 1993, the same year we got married, and it became our life’s dream to spend as much time there as possible. We enjoyed fixing it up, hiking down to the creek and having coffee on the porch, but what Bernie loved more than anything was to share our little piece of paradise with others – whether it be neighbors, family or friends. Many of our friends have made the trek over that bumpy dirt road so many times that their visits have become more like a family gathering than just a weekend away.
One such gathering we’ve been hosting for many years is our annual 4th of July get together of the Shepherd Canyon Band with Bernie’s band mates and their partners. This past 4th of July, Bernie was in the hospital and too sick to make it, but he insisted that we all should still go. His deepest wish was for everyone to come together and play music like they had for so many years, without a thought to his own situation. He never complained or felt sorry for himself, he just wanted what was best for the people he loved. That’s the way he was. In all honesty, right now I can’t imagine going there without him, but he made me promise that I’d keep the tradition going so the music would go on, even if he couldn’t be there.
Of course, Bernie was never content just working on his own projects, he was very active in the community. He was one of the first members of the Graniteville Volunteer Fire Company that was formed in 1998 and he remained an active member until his death. He also volunteered his time and talents to the GCSA. Bernie never said no when he was asked to help, and most of the time he didn’t even need to be asked.
I remember him getting paged in the middle of the night when a kid at a nearby summer camp was having a panic attack on his first night away from home. Bernie didn’t hesitate to suit up and drive off into the dark. Once he got there, the little boy immediately calmed down and was fine. Bernie had that effect on people. I lost count of all the people he helped, most of them complete strangers, whose cars were stuck in the snow or who had run out of gas. He never took any money when it was offered, he just asked people to donate to the Fire Department, shook their hand, and went on his way.
When we were first dating, I was a little nervous about telling him that I was clean and sober and very active in the recovery community. You will not be surprised to hear that he thought it was wonderful that I had recognized I had a problem and had done something to address it. He was a strong supporter of my recovery. Whenever anyone asked him if he “was a friend of Bill’s”, his answer would be, “No, but I’m related to Bill by marriage.”
We wanted to have a shared spiritual life, so Bernie suggested that we come here, to Our Lady of Lourdes. I wasn’t Catholic at the time and was a bit skeptical but as it turned out, I felt immediately welcomed and at home and Lourdes became our spiritual center. I am very grateful to my Lourdes family for their support. Father Tom’s visits meant a great deal to Bernie, and I appreciate Father Jim’s help and support with this service today.
The question of how Bernie became such a loving, giving man was answered when I met his family. As some of you know, I grew up in a rather “colorful” family so the first time I went back and spent Christmas with the Bishops, it was a bit of a culture shock. They were all so nice to each other, no one was competing for attention or trying to out-do the other. They loved each other with a quiet acceptance that epitomized what unconditional love is all about. I didn’t know what to make of it except to be grateful that they welcomed me in so completely.
They have been a huge strength and support to me, especially over these last few months. His brothers Kevin and Brian, his sister Julie and her husband Jim, and my niece and nephew Lauren and Kevin are here today. I’m also grateful for my family members who are here, my niece Morgan and her husband Mario, my cousin Kristy, and my sister Susan Jackson.
Obviously, I can’t talk about Bernie without talking about music. We shared a love of music from the beginning. Our honeymoon was an Irish Music Folklore tour of Ireland. Now back then, Bernie was not playing and singing, and as a matter of fact, I had no idea he could sing. One night back in the 1990s, when he was up at Tahoe taking a Wilderness First Aid class, he ran into a bunch of musicians from Oakland who were playing bluegrass music. They invited him to bring his guitar and come play at a Jam at the Baja Taqueria on Piedmont Avenue and the rest is history.
No one was more surprised than I was when he started singing, and boy could he sing. This tall, quiet, gentle guy from Boston would open his mouth and out came a pure, clear, lonesome sound that made people sit up and listen. The band practiced in our living room and many a night I would sit at the top of the stairs and listen to their beautiful singing and playing. There was something very special about the Shepherd Canyon Band. They had an affection and respect for each other that came across whenever they played. Again, another blessing of having Bernie in my life is to have been welcomed in by his band family, and indeed by the whole Bluegrass community.
I was amazed the first time I saw Bernie jump on a stage and sing in front of an audience, without a single trace of self-consciousness or nervousness. I asked him about it, and he told me “Singing a song is like telling a story, it’s not about me, it’s about the song.” To honor Bernie’s memory, I encourage everyone to be kind to each other, listen with your heart, delight in the happiness of those around you. Let every word out of your mouth be kind and loving just as Bernie was to everyone he met. Remember the lesson that Bernie taught us, “It’s not about me, it’s about the song.” (after the reading, a recording of Bernie singing 1952 Vincent Black Lightning was played).