Adel Selim GirgisSeptember 22, 1938 - May 24, 2011

This past Tuesday we received the news that we have been expecting for a while now. My father Adel, Simon's Giddo, passed away. He never regained consciousness after his stroke in March, so we are comforted to know he was not aware of any suffering, and was living a full life until then. The funeral service was yesterday here in Houston. Below is the eulogy I delivered at the church.

My dad had a long list of personal and professional accomplishments. But before I was aware of any of his successes or life stories, he was simply "Pappy." First, he was a father, and eventually a great friend. So my favorite memories of him will be the simple ones. Lazy games of backgammon in the afternoon, sipping cups of turkish coffee, trips to the hardware store where we would pretend that either one of us had the slightest clue what we were looking for or that we knew what to do with it when we found it. One of my all time favorites - arguing over the check at the end of a meal. And just those rare moments when no one else was around and I had him all to myself. To just chat about this and that or nothing at all.

He wasn't the kind of guy who would sit you down on his knee and rattle off quotable bits of advice for how to live your life. Instead, he taught by example, with quiet confidence, humility and grace. Of course, as a child you don't realize how much you're learning from your parents. Then as you grow older and as you start a family of your own and as your life starts to get just a little more complicated, you become more and more aware of all the things you do, all the decisions you make, which are so clearly influenced by how your parents raised you and how they lived their lives. With every passing year, as I've become more and more aware of the influence my father has had on me, my respect and my admiration for him has grown dramatically, and continues to do so.

My dad was a very peaceful man. And as much as he enjoyed spending time surrounded by friends and family, he also really appreciated his quiet time alone. There were few things he enjoyed more than a nice quiet cozy chair somewhere with a view. We used to go to Galveston often when we were younger, and of course we would head straight to the beach where my dad would find a comfy chair, lean back, and say to everyone, "Ya salaam. Listen to the breeze!" which never really made sense but we knew what he meant. If you leave here today wondering what you can do to honor his memory, I would suggest simply finding a nice comfy spot somewhere where you can appreciate a moment of peace and quiet and just take some time to listen to the breeze.

I want to thank all the people who have been so supportive over the last several weeks. So many of you have been so gracious with your time and we would not have been able to get through this period without your support. The names are too many to mention. You have provided medical guidance, kept us company when we were stuck in Galveston, given us rides to/from the airport, cooked meals, and kept my mom company when Peter and I couldn't be here, sometimes coming all the way from Egypt and staying for weeks on end. Thank you all very much.

We sent a bunch of pictures to the funeral home which they used to create a photo album.