My Search for Happiness

 

My Eulogy

The difference between an obituary and a eulogy is simply that an obituary is an announcement of death with funeral details, whereas a eulogy is a speech that pays tribute to the life of the deceased.

I am writing my own eulogy so I will know before I die what will be said about me.  Also, I am taking advantage of my last opportunity to give a catechesis lesson to my religiously impaired family and friends. My life and my search for life’s meaning is something most people who think will relate.

There are various means to prove the existence of God.  St. Thomas Aquinas gives five reasons: intelligent design, nature’s example of life after death—caterpillars dying to be born into butterflies, seeds dying to be flowers and flowers spreading their seeds to become flowers, again, etc.  Our ability to reason can see that.  The same with the proof called causation—everyone and thing is because of something.  For example, our parents begot us, their parents begot them, and objects were made by someone, even the big bang had to have had a cause. The end cause we call God. Again, any thinking person can reason this.

But we can also see proof of God in our own lives because from our birth, we have been looking for Him.  We are always looking for Him; this is called happiness.  Everything we have done has been a search for happiness. 

A baby will cry until fed and comfortable—ah, happiness.  As a child we want certain things that we think will make us happy—toys, attention, love.  But it doesn’t last; it’s not permanent.  We want it again and more.

So, it was with me.  I was born in a family with a bother, Ronnie, who was 22 years older than I, a sister, Virginia, who was 18 years older and another sister, Bette, who is 10 years older.   I am a war baby, a baby boomer.  Daddy came home from WWII and his babies were all grown up.  He wanted another baby.  I always thought that I was the only one who was really wanted in the family.  My siblings just happened along, but I was planned, wished, and hoped for.  I grew up feeling very special and loved.  I was everyone’s favorite. 

Did you notice that I said I was “planned, wished, and hoped for”?  I didn’t say “prayed for”?  That’s because my family never prayed.  We weren’t religious. My dad never went to church.  My mother went to Mass every Sunday because we brought Grandma there.  That was the extent of our religious involvement.  No one ever talked about religious subjects.  We had no Bibles in the house.  We didn’t pray grace at meals.  In fact, when a religious program was on TV, like Bishop Fulton Sheen, we turned the channel to watch a variety show—Milton Berle, Sid Caesar, someone like that.

So, why did my dad who never gave God a thought name me Faith?  He said it was because he didn’t want me to believe in anything, except myself.  

I guess I showed him.

One of my earliest memories is hitting a baseball out of the park.  This was before I went to school.  The kids in my neighborhood played softball a lot and everyone wanted me on their team.  I was a happy kid.  I thought happiness was winning games.  Of course, one doesn’t always win.  But when you do, you want more.  Winning as happiness doesn’t last.

Getting good marks in school made me happy but it didn’t last, either.  I remember thinking that getting into high school would bring me happiness.  I was very happy to get into a private, all girl high school.  There were only 36 in my graduating class.  I was an honor student and played softball and basketball.  As a teenager, I intuited that good grades weren’t happiness.  But once I got into college, then I could relax and be happy.

Relax!  At one time in college, I had three part time jobs.  College life was too busy to spend any time reflecting on the meaning of life.  I just wanted to finish and get a job, then I could relax and be happy. 

My first job was teaching.  I found out that working wasn’t happiness.  I told myself, work is called work because if it were fun, it would be called play. Then, I thought if I got married, I will be happy.  And I did meet my future husband while teaching in Medway, MA.  We were both teaching on the same team. 

After a few years, we didn’t feel completely happy.  We were happy, but we wanted more.  We thought having children would bring more happiness.  We wanted children but they didn’t come; I had a fertility problem. That was treated and we had a daughter we named Cheryl.  She made us happy, and we wanted another to make us happier.  I still had the fertility problem.  But again, we had success and Karen was born.  We were happy and felt our family and life was complete.  Surprise, we were blessed with one more baby, a son we named Mark. 

Now with three active children, we were too busy to reflect upon whether we were happy or not.  In retrospect, of course we were happy.  My fondest memories are happy ones-vacations, Christmases, holidays. But happiness is not forever after.  Children grow up.  The house is empty.  I do remember sometimes during those busy times of a growing family, thinking if I were alone, I’d be happy, but now that the children were all grown and on their own, where was the happiness.

Think of this dynamic.  Does everyone search for happiness?  Win at games, get into high school, have a boy or girl friend, get into college, get a job, get married, have children, become retired…is it all a search for happiness?

Where is “happy ever after”?  Is that only in fairy tales? All the happiness I ever had never lasted.  St. Augustine is right, “our hearts are restless until we find God.”

In fact, the very dissatisfaction we all experience suggests the existence of something else out there—someone else.  Dare I name it—God, Himself1

The happiness we always feel is just a taste--a tease. Our intellects are never satisfied with our limited knowledge—our will is never satisfied with gratifying experiences.  We always want more.  We ARE made for more. We have an infinite desire to search for what gives genuine peace, satisfaction and happiness.  Our intellect and will keeps us from settling for anything less than the full grandeur of paradise.  This world is not our home.  We are made for God.  Our hearts long for divine perfection.  Faith’s life was a foretaste of her heavenly home.