Eulogy for Karl Edwin Rehbaum

At my father-in-law's funeral this week, my dear, thoughtful, amazing husband offered a eulogy - his best effort to capture his dad in just a few words, and to honor him as a worthy send-off. I am honored to post his beautiful words about his father here on my blog.

Eulogy for Karl Edwin Rehbaum,

February 2, 1947 ~ April 18, 2015

Given by Michael Timothy Rehbaum, April 22, 2015

Welcome family and friends. 

I can be stubborn and thick headed at times. Due to this, a very common refrain about me in Sharon and Karl's household was, "Who raised this kid?!"

Well I can tell you who raised me to be the man I am today. Two amazing parents. One is sitting here today grieving and supporting me. The other of course is the reason that we're all here today. It is his life that I want to celebrate.

Karl Edwin Rehbaum is someone that is truly difficult to put into words. A perfect dichotomy of complexity and simplicity. Someone that you really had to get to know to even begin to understand, and even then part of him was an enigma. Someone that was always learning, growing and exploring. Someone that could be simultaneously a wise man and have childlike wonder.

Karl with his Nikon

Fortunately for me I got to know him in the way that only a child can know their parents. Add to that the fact that I am an only child. For only children relationships take on slightly different roles than they appear to in other families. For me that meant that Karl Rehbaum was my father, my big brother, one of my best friends and at times, my little brother. Somehow he managed to fill all of those roles in my life with effortless ease.

Passionate

My father was an incredibly creative and passionate man. He expressed this in many ways. Art took a prominent role in how he expressed his zest for life. Can anyone name his favorite art? Yup! Photography! I grew up with a camera in my face and in my hands in a time when not everyone took pictures of every moment of everyday. But my dad did. I think that I was 7 or 8 before I realized that my father had two eyes. As a child I could have sworn that he just had one large manual focus eye and had "Nikon" tattooed on his forehead! My father photographed his life and the life of those around him. His camera took him all over the country and all over the world. It's hard to separate the man from the camera.

Karl (right) on his Plymouth Barracuda

But he wasn't just passionate about photography. His passions were wide and varied. Stained glass, cars, trains, planes, travel, RV's. He loved machines that moved. A Corvette would come towards us and he'd say "ah...a 58 or 59". And then it would pass and he'd pick out some little detail from the tail lights and say "'59." I stopped double checking him. He was always right.

Loyal and forgiving

My father was an incredibly loyal and forgiving man. He loved his Nikon cameras. I don't think that he ever forgave me for buying Canon, although he did easily forgave me for my many, many other faults and mistakes. Detailing his forgiveness seems incredibly appropriate during Easter.

One of his and my favorite forgiveness stories came when I was 17 and living with him. Two of my friends and I had gotten into the habit of rolling other people's houses with toilet paper. We'd become rather masterful at it (I am my father's son after all). Our ultimate job was going to be rolling our high school Principal's house. But there was a problem, we didn't know exactly where she lived. So late one night we dressed in black and started walking around the houses we suspected to be hers. We ended up with a rather angry homeowner coming out of his house holding a .357 and telling us to sit on the curb until the cops came. We sat. The cops did come. And I was brought home to my father at 2 in the morning in the back of a police car. The officer explained things and my father had me walk in the house and sit on the couch. His first words to me were "where's my car?" We'd left it in a driveway on the other side of the city. "Crap

Michael and Karl at Genesee Country Museum
near Rochester, NY

Michael." So at 3 in the morning we went and got his car. The next morning he said, "I'm never going to have to worry about the cops bringing you home again, am I son?" He looked at me with his eyes, the ones that he only used when he needed to look through you, deep into your soul. I met his penetrating stare the best that I could and I said, "No sir." He forgave me for the incident. It became a treasured story that he would tell. "Remember that time Michael got brought home by the police?" I'd hang my head in shame and he'd chuckle.

Importance of work

For my father work was something that was incredibly important. There's a quote from the late 19th century that says, "Whatever you are, be a good one." He lived true to this in all of his jobs. His first love was the United States Navy. He was career Navy through and through. He loved the sea, his fellow sailors and the ships that carried them all to defend our nation. First and foremost he was a really great sailor. But it didn't matter if he was wearing his Navy uniform or he was managing the facilities of a church or school, driving a big truck or tour bus, being a journalist for WCTV, running his own photo studio or selling the latest and greatest Saturn car.

Karl being sworn in

He was great at what he was doing. He was proud to wear the uniform of whatever job he was undertaking. He was loyal to that institution or company. He lived true to the quote no matter what job he had. He did his best to "be a good one."

Loving

The final quality that I want to speak about is the one that I will always carry with me in my heart. My father was an incredibly loving man. He loved his god and had a deep faith in the good news of the resurrection. He loved that his soul was in God's hands. He truly loved his family. He loved his parents, his sister Mary Gayle and his brother Rick. He loved his nieces and nephews especially Roger and Catherine who he treated like they were his own children. He loved his wife of 19 years Sharon, who took meticulous daily care of him as he courageously fought cancer for five non-stop years. And he loved his step-children Robert and Ian and their kids. And he truly loved me.

Rose, Sister Mary Gayle, Karl,
Nephew Roger, Dad Bill, Michael, Wife Sharon

But his love was big enough to extend beyond just his beloved family. He loved Florida and was extremely proud to be a native son. Shoot he loved Florida so much that he seemed to feel that South Carolina would be too cold to live in. He also loved his pets. The Collies he had over his life and his dear cat Misty. He once told me that he'd saved Misty from a box, but that she'd saved him with how she loved him. He truly loved that cat and her dear, sweet soul.

Influence on me

My eulogy for my father would not be complete without telling you how his spirit will live on. My father passed on so much to those that he loved. He passed on so much to me.

When I list my passions and hobbies, all but one tie directly back to my father. I'm a photographer, a historian, a lover of aviation, I'm a leader, an artist, I love machines, and most importantly I love my family and friends.  I didn't end up following his footsteps into the military. But I did follow him into public service and being a leader. I am the man I am today because of my father. Because of all the good in his life and all of the good that he passed on to me.

This August, for the first time, I will get to walk down the road of fatherhood myself. I truly pray that I've learned enough from the lessons that he gave me about being a father. Sadly I won't have him to redirect me during this part of my journey. He won't be able to give me that stare to fix what I'm doing wrong. But I know that if I can be half the father that he was, my daughter Grace Victoria Rehbaum will turn out just fine.

Karl Edwin Rehbaum lived life to the fullest. And I'd like to end with a quote from Abraham Lincoln that I think sums up my father's life perfectly.

"In the end, it's not the years
in your life that count. It's the
life in your years."

Godspeed, Dad.

Karl and Michael, 1976