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Wide Boy
Transcript of eulogy for Edward “Eddie” Garamond, delivered by his father, Ralph Garamond.
Thank you all for coming. It means a lot to me. I know Eddie would have been thrilled to see everyone gathered here in his honor, even though he wouldn’t have been able to fit through the front door. It gratifies me immensely to know Eddie will once again be reunited with his mother in heaven, finally, after the painful meeting at his birth. My wife—Sally, for those of you who never met her—did get to see him briefly before she passed, but they had to whisk her away for surgery, and Eddie was taken to a separate wing for, um… observation.
[pause] [intake of breath]
My son was born wide. He had three fingers on his left hand and four on his right, and an extra nostril, but they were nothing compared to his wideness. His mother, my dear wife, God bless her soul, gave everything she had during childbirth, but it was too much for her to bear. He was just too wide. His emergence caused Sally such physical damage and blood loss that there wasn’t much the doctors could do. I am told wideness is quite a rare malformation in a child, and to see it manifest itself to such a degree in utero and during childbirth was unprecedented. But Sally wanted to press on with a fortitude I had never seen before. She knew the risks… [pause] I’m sorry. [sniffles]
From burying my wife to raising a, um... special needs child on my own, my life was flipped upside down. Don’t get me wrong, Eddie was loved, and he was a joy, at times, to have around. Yes, the construction costs to modify all of our home’s doors and bathroom fixtures were monumental, but it was a small price to pay in our attempts to achieve a normalized household. The modification of our Peugeot to accommodate Eddie as he grew was no chump change either, not to mention the custom tailoring necessary to clothe him, but as I said, small price and all that.
Luckily, we had a few wonderful nannies to alleviate the burden on my shoulders since I needed to work to pay for all these… um, adjustments. Yes, I put in some long hours. Trudy and Julianne… there they are… thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your understanding and hard work in the past. And to our current nanny, Riley, let’s see, where are you… oh there, okay, my deepest gratitude for all the extra attention you gave me… Eddie, I mean, and I… um, I guess I’ll… uh, see you later. [cough]
When Eddie turned four, I remember this quite vividly, he announced he wanted to go to Disneyland for his birthday. He had such an angelic face when he came up to me, tugged on my trouser leg, and exclaimed, “Daddy, Daddy, can we go to Disneyland?!” Well, “angelic” isn’t the right word for it exactly… um, let’s see. Well, he was quite… um… well, he wasn’t a cute boy; let’s be realistic. No sense in going overboard. He was, however, extremely excited about the prospects of meeting Donald Duck and, um… Goofy. What a conundrum I was presented with, though. I had to sit him down on the… uh, sofa and explain to him, “Eddie, dear boy, of course we can go to Disneyland, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to go on any of the rides.” The look on the poor boy’s face haunts me to this day. Well, I mean the disappointment, you see.
When Eddie started school, it presented an entirely new set of challenges. Of course, school doors, hallways, and lavatory stalls were issues—those we could foresee being problematic. What we didn’t manage to anticipate was the absolute cruelty Eddie’s classmates would thrust upon my only child. The name-calling was horrendous. I wouldn’t even think about repeating those slurs here in this solemn place. Although, a few of them were quite humorous. [throat clearing] But since Eddie could only attend school for recess, my heartfelt appreciation goes out to Miss Schwartzklein for tutoring my child… no, no, no, don’t get up. I know you still have problems with your knee. Again, my sincere apologies. Eddie was always somewhat clumsy when he pivoted.
[sigh]
I remember the time when Eddie turned eight and he had his first crush on a girl. She lived two houses down from us; her name was Hannah, and she was, I believe, around ten years old. Her family has… uh, since… uh, moved. But boy, did he fall for that little girl. She was a cutie. He would ask me every night, “Daddy, can Hannah be my wife?” [chuckles from mourners] And I’d say to him, “Well, son, maybe she… um, it’s quite possible she’s already married.” It was difficult for me to always come up with excuses for everyday occurrences any other kid would take for granted. I mean, he wouldn’t have been able to even hug her, for Chr… for heaven’s sake. Because of… well, you know. [barely audible mumble: The poor girl probably had nightmares.]
One of my fondest memories with Eddie occurred just last summer. Eddie, Riley, and I went to the beach for a nice vacation—North Carolina; it’s so beautiful there. Anyway, we had so much fun watching the waves and the other beachgoers walking on the shore for miles. Of course, we had to leave Eddie tethered with a length of rope and a spike in case the wind picked up. Riley and I would build sand castles, and she would complain the sand kept getting in her biki… [throat clearing] her bathing suit. Remember, Riley? Yes, we all had a great time. And at night Riley and I would go shopping and eat at the best seafood restaurants and bring back some nice things for Eddie. He really scarfed down those hush puppies, Eddie did. Later, the two of us would watch movies in our hotel room while Eddie slept on the beach. He said he preferred it down there. We rented a special tent for him. Mmm, those were some exceptionally memorable nights.
[lengthy pause]
Oh, sorry, I lost my place. Let’s see… Eddie loved movies. We would roll him… [cough] …bring him out on the back porch, where we had a nice wide-screen TV for him. He had this oversized remote that he could control with his feet. His favorite movies were Westerns. He loved the cowboys and the ranchers and all the animals. My psychologist speculated the reason Eddie enjoyed Westerns was because they depicted all of those wide, open spaces. It’s an interesting assumption. Riley and I were even considering a vacation to the Grand Canyon. [lengthy pause] With Eddie, of course.
It may surprise a lot of you to learn that my Eddie was quite talented. He couldn’t play an instrument, of course, because of his short arms—and dancing was out considering his balance problems. But Eddie found joy in singing. We would put him in the bathroom, where the acoustics were better, and he would sing for hours. Riley and I would have the darndest times trying to figure out which songs Eddie sang; we even made a game of it. Whoever got the song right got to… oh, right… probably not something that… uh, needs to be discussed. But Eddie was having a good time singing his songs, which was all that mattered.
My boy, Eddie, was the light of my life. I learned not only to accept his wideness but to look at it as a virtue—a uniqueness that made him special to everyone who had the… uh, good fortune to meet him. Toward the end of Eddie’s short life, people, perfect strangers, would come up to me when Eddie and I were in the park or at the playground, and they would say, “My God, that’s a wide boy!” And I would look them in the eye and say, “Yes, but he’s my wide boy, sir.” It was usually a guy. And we would look at Eddie flipping and flopping around on the grass with an appreciation for all of God’s blunders—a two-headed cow, an albino alligator, Republicans, and yes, even a wide boy with three nostrils.
Thank you all for coming, and be sure to help yourself to as many hush puppies as you like, courtesy of Sammy’s Seafood Snacks, Eddie’s favorite. It’s the food truck parked right outside. And to Eddie, I miss you, son. Rest in heavenly peace. Wide pride! [fist upraised] Wide pride. [murmurs from the mourners]
End of transcript.
