After Katie and I heard that our Dad had a massive stroke, we headed to the airport and got on a red-eye from Maui to Dallas to Charleston, where we met our brothers. They were coming from Nashville and Denver and we all landed in Charleston within 15 minutes of each other on the 31st, and it felt like fate. We were meant to make the trip together, the O.G. That day at the hospital with our mom, we witnessed our dad's last rites and together made the decision to take him off life support after learning that there was no chance of recovery. It was so, so sad, yet beautiful in a way. It felt right that the five of us were there together, crying, telling stories, listening to his Motown and smooth jazz, and eventually take turns saying our goodbyes. We spent the next couple of days crying some more, but laughing too. We told stories and started to think about how we wanted to celebrate his life and honor the values he and our mom taught us: respect, giving someone a way out with dignity, heard work, fairness, generosity, the importance of family. We remembered how he not only had nicknames for each of us but for every kid he coached, and his greatest hits tapes, and his one-of-a-kind phrases like utter bullshit. The lovely obituary Katie wrote and the eulogy that the four of us gave together were born from this time together at the hospital. As our dad continued to hang on, my mom insisted that we fly home to our families. We flew home on Saturday after making Mom promise she would sleep. Shortly after she got to the hotel that night, the nurse called and said it wold happen soon. Mom went back to the hospital, got in bed with him, and he died in his sleep on Sunday morning with his favorite person by his side.
I had been gone for over a week and was welcomed home so sweetly by John and the kids.
I felt so much love from so many friends.
And for a few days, life had to go on. It took some time getting his remains from South Carolina to Pennsylvania. During that time, we tried to be as normal as possible, going to work and school, coaching, playing.
This is my little bear being supportive when I told my team that my dad died.
Maggie lost her first tooth that week, and was very excited about it.
I took a red eye home that Thursday, and John and the kids came Saturday morning. Everyone else trickled in around those times as well. We got to meet our newest niece, beautiful Greta. Despite the very sad occasion, it was a special time to be together, and good for the grandkids that gave Big V so much joy to be together to celebrate him. My dad's viewing was Sunday evening and the funeral was the morning on Monday, February 11th. More than anything, that time in Pennsylvania taught me how to be a good friend, how to help someone grieving, and how lucky the Kraft family is to have the family and friends that we have. People were so generous and caring, from Mrs. Holden doing everything, to the Vaughans giving us a house and two cars, to all of the food being dropped off, and Mimi printing the programs, and Sarah and Erin coming all the way from Colorado, and Susan being a great friend to lean on. People touched us in so many ways, and we are eternally grateful for that love and friendship. We saw so many people from so many different parts of my dad's life on Sunday and Monday. The kids all did a great job at the funeral. Monsignor Murphy gave a beautiful homily, and the gospel choir he wanted was icing on the cake. Oh Happy Day was the perfect tribute to my dad and the contagious joy he spread.
Goodbye, Dad. I love you.
I've decided to paste the eulogy we gave, mainly so I have it saved somewhere. The four of us came together to remember and honor my dad, each in our own way.
Colleen:
Thank you so much for joining us today to celebrate our dad’s life. There are so many of you from so many different parts of his life: LaSalle, Notre Dame, Meadowbrook, Air Products, St. Thomas, Lehigh, Long Cove.
It’s a testament to his infectious spirit and the impact he made on our of our lives, in ways both big and small. We knew him has Dad, but many of you know him by many different names...Vince, Vinnie, Cheese, the Gremlin, and finally Big V to his beloved grandchildren. When someone asked my kids is that your grandfather?, they’d say no, that’s my Big V. The name Big V cemented his legend.
While kids our age knew him as a coach that gave every kid a nickname, his grandchildren and their cousins and friends knew him as the Big V that sneakily slipped them Swedish Red Fish when their parents weren’t looking.
Our dad was a huge presence, in our lives and in any room he entered. Since his stroke a year ago, so many of you have shared stories with us. Some we had heard of and some we hadn’t. Some made us laugh, and some we have stolen for this eulogy.
We found out that many of you sought his advice in the same way that we did, and that many of you turned to him when you needed a good belly laugh, which often came in the form of an Irish joke in his Irish famous brogue, and usually ended with Te te te te.
We’d each like to share some stories about our Dad. One of my favorites has to do with how much he loved our mom. My dad always spoke about how important it is to marry your best friend. John and I would bring our family to Hilton Head every Fall break. There was usually a night each trip where John and I would sit outside on the deck with him, drink an nightcap, and talk. He was always extra truthful on these nights.
The October before his stroke, he had some gems. He said Leans, I believe in two things: 1) I love your mother more than I love you. Don’t get me wrong, I love you and your sister and brothers and spouses and all of your kids, but you can’t hold a torch to her; you’re just the bonus. I love you mom the most. And 2) I hate giving the government my money.
And with that, I’m turning it over to…
Katie:
It was black and white with Dad. You knew were you stood. And if you were in, like I imagine everyone with us today, it was wonderful. He may never have told you so, but he would ask you about school, or watch the Eagles and crush pistachios with you, or just say your name in a way that felt special.
He worked hard; yet managed to come to all of our games and embarrass us by yelling our nicknames from the bleachers. (Scooooooch)
As a good friend said recently, he was a family man. A neighborhood man.
He was also a legendary negotiator, as many of his air products colleagues can attest, and he taught us the importance of always giving a person a way out with dignity.
He was often quiet, content with a book, but was a master storyteller and toastmaker, and would bring the house to tears with his Christmas Eve toasts.
He didn’t give advice unless we sought it. He and our mother never made us feel guilty for where our lives had led us. He said he raised us to be independent and he was proud.
He had the best taste in music and introduced us to Aretha, real blues, and made us each a greatest hits tape when we were born. But he also loved his smooth jazz.
He loved sniffing out a good person. I always say he treated a waiter the same as a CEO. Be it a caddy, a new friend, or eventually our husbands and wives there was nothing better than getting that Big V (low thumbs up) of approval.
Dad didn’t mince words. As you may know if it was cooked and green, he didn’t eat it. To the end. One time I tried to sneak a vegetable in his pasta and he told me I could go shove it where the sun don’t shine.
There was no grey with Dad. He wasn’t going to live life halfway. No way. He gave us a bonus year, because he loved family above all else. He showed us what hard work is and what true love is about, and we are forever grateful.
Kevin:
Dad loved sports and dearest to him was golf. In my formative years as we shared the game, it was through that lens I came to understand his character. You have seen these traits at the office, or at school, in Lindberg Park, or however you crossed paths.
He was team player, loved playing with his buddies in tournaments, leaning on one another to claim victory.
He was willing to teach and he loved to learn, he taught me the nuances of managing the course and the value continuing to learn and improve myself.
He was generous, always tipping caddies and providing a bonus when he won something special.
Don’t get me started on integrity, golf is a self policing game and for me to break the code of fair play, man, I think he would have kicked me out of the house. Fairness was paramount to Dad.
He was always prepared, as evidenced by that classic white towel draped over his shoulder.
He loved to compete, so each round was made interesting by a personal goal or a team game and he couldn’t help himself from strategizing, even in the most meaningless of rounds.
He kept life in context and could take a loss in stride...with grace telling us back home how his opponent hit a clutch shot on 18th hole.
He was fun loving. Goofy tricks like his one footed “stork putt” made the rounds fun because that is what athletics are rooted in.
He was disciplined...never a huge hitter, he didn’t chase distance by extending that 3 quarter swing and risk ruining his game, rather he doubled down on consistency….as the saying goes, drive for show and putt for dough...and when we needed him to come through for us in our lives…putt for dough, he did.
Patrick:
Dad was unabashedly himself. He stood for his convictions, and he did not back down from conflict.
When I think of his character, I picture the small moments. At a soccer game, standing alone with Molly on the complete opposite side from the rest of the parents. What he subtly sending a message to them?....You bet. Did he care of they were offended? Not. A. Chance.
The second is a deeply personal one. We were visiting Colleen at Notre Dame and heading to dinner. On the way, I made some off-hand snide remark about one of my friends. Dad dropped everyone off at the restaurant and kept me in the car. We parked, then sat, as he quietly made it clear that I was to never...ever put down a friend. After family, friends are the greatest gift we have in this world.
Looking at all of you in this church today, and reading all the notes we received in the past week, shows that Dad truly embodied this advice.
Finally, the indelible image I have of Dad is in our kitchen, surrounded by family and friends, Middleton’s raised high in a toast. The subjects were varied but the themes were the same: cherish your family; keep hope for the future; and always celebrate with your loved ones whenever you have the chance.
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