[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 157 (2011), Part 6]
[Senate]
[Pages 7788-7789]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                  REMEMBERING EDWARD LAWRENCE O'BRIEN

  Mr. KERRY. Madam President, in the course of our lives, one of the 
most difficult moments we face is to say goodbye to a parent. No matter 
how old we are or how old they are or even how long they've struggled 
with illness and infirmity, when you lose your mother or father, you 
are reminded again what it means to be someone's child, and it hits you 
right in the gut just how much you depend on your mother and father. It 
is difficult, and it has been particularly difficult for the O'Brien 
family of Marshfield Hills, MA, which just this month lost their 
patriarch, Edward Lawrence O'Brien, who was an extraordinary blessing 
to his family, and his friends, but also to the country he loved, which 
he served in the U.S. Navy. And his passing is a profound loss to us 
all.
  Ed leaves behind his loving wife Marge, his brother Gene, 6 devoted 
children and 17 adoring grandchildren. His son Drew has served the 
people of Massachusetts as my State director for almost a decade, 
living the spirit of public service that Ed instilled and inspired in 
all of his family. Ed was, to borrow a phrase Tip O'Neill liked so 
much, ``a beautiful person,'' and I enjoyed meeting him on several 
occasions. Our last meeting will be with me forever, when I had the 
privilege of presenting him with his World War II medals for his 
service in the Pacific. He was so content and had such a great smile on 
his face, a twinkle in his eye which never deserted him even as he 
bravely battled and accepted the illness that would take him from his 
family after 86 years extraordinarily well-lived.
  Ed served proudly in the Navy during World War II, including the 
invasion of Okinawa. He embodied what we now know as ``The Greatest 
Generation'' of Americans who defended America and saved democracy for 
the world. He earned numerous decorations, including the Combat Action 
Ribbon, the Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal with a silver star and a 
bronze star, and the European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal.
  Ed was a patriot who stood by his country and his family with equal 
measures of devotion. Indeed, the mass lovingly put together by his 
family told the story of a man who loved his friends, who loved his 
family, who loved his God--the God who, in the words of the old Irish 
hymn he enjoyed so, was his vision, his battle shield, his sword for 
the fight, his dignity and his delight. In his eulogy for his father, 
Drew O'Brien offered great comfort to all who mourned with him, 
especially Ed and Marge's 17 grandchildren. ``For the rest of your 
life,'' Drew told them, ``carry him with you in your heart--never 
forget the love he offered, the lessons he taught, the stories he told 
or the fun that you had with him.''
  Drew's eulogy is a wonderful tribute to a father's legacy and a son's 
enduring love and today I would like to share it with my colleagues in 
the U.S. Senate by having it printed in the Congressional Record. And 
with that request, I would also like to--on behalf of my entire office 
and all those who know and love Drew--again extend our deepest 
sympathies and condolences to the entire O'Brien family: Michael 
O'Brien, his wife Kathryn and their children, Michael, Caroline and 
Elizabeth; Jim O'Brien, his wife Irene and their children, Johanna and 
Theresa; Kevin O'Brien, his wife Rozilyn and their children, Daniel, 
Christopher, Sean and Julia; Joanne O'Brien Hudson, her husband Richard 
and their children, Mary, Anne and Meaghan; Lawrence O'Brien, his wife 
Patty Roper and their children, Siobhan, Rachel and Kate; and Drew 
O'Brien, wife Michelle Consalvo and their children, Natalie and 
Matthew.
  And to Drew, I would also like to say that, having lost my own father 
now 11 years ago this summer, please know that while the hurt of the 
loss never goes away, with the passage of time you remember the good 
moments and the best lessons more and more. You'll always look up and 
see your Dad proudly looking over you. And because Drew is such a gift 
to all of us, I also wish to thank Ed and Margaret, his dearest 
``Margie,'' for the extraordinary family they created, nurtured and 
loved. And to Ed O'Brien, this great Navy man now at rest on still 
waters in heaven, I bid you ``fair winds and following seas.''
  Madam President, I ask unanimous consent that the eulogy by Drew 
O'Brien be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

[[Page 7789]]



                         In Remembrance of Dad

                    (By Drew O'Brien, May 16, 2011)

       My family and I want to thank everyone who is here with us 
     this morning, and all who came through MacDonald's yesterday 
     for participating in these celebrations of Dad's life. I 
     think I speak for everybody when I say it was overwhelming in 
     its comfort. Thank you so much.
       For my brothers--Michael, Kevin, Jim, Lawrence, our sister 
     Joanne and me--a special thank you has to go out to each of 
     our spouses and our families. Kim, Lyn, Irene, Rick, Patty 
     and Michelle. You were all so patient and supportive when we 
     had to stop the clock of our everyday lives to help Dad. Dad 
     loved and cherished each of you, and I know he recognized and 
     appreciated the sacrifice you made.
       There are people, too many to list, who have helped us and 
     Dad over the past few months, in hospitals all around 
     Massachusetts. They are owed a personal debt of gratitude 
     that simply cannot be repaid. But they deserve our 
     recognition this morning. Thank you to all of them.
       We are here this morning to celebrate and honor the long 
     and blessed life of Edward Lawrence O'Brien, just eight days 
     shy of his 85th birthday.
       How to do that with brevity, simplicity and accuracy?
       In a word: love.
       He was all about the love.
       He loved his garden. He loved to take a ride in the car 
     with Mom on a nice Sunday afternoon, usually after an early 
     Sunday dinner--which he also loved. He loved his Irish 
     heritage deeply and he loved his still-ongoing genealogy 
     project. He loved to go flounder fishing right off the South 
     Shore here. He loved to go camping--loved a good campfire and 
     loved it when we were all around it. He loved to travel--and 
     he and Mom traveled a lot in his long retirement. He loved a 
     nice hot cup of tea, and he loved a glass of cold beer. 
     Sometimes two. He loved newspapers, especially his Patriot 
     Ledger. He loved crossword puzzles. He loved a good spy 
     novel--Robert Ludlum and John LeCarre. He loved jazz and big 
     band music. He loved Brooklyn, his hometown. He loved Bishop 
     Loughlin High School there. He loved the University of 
     Missouri. He loved the United States Navy. He loved Liberty 
     Mutual, where he spent so much of his life. He loved to watch 
     TV shows and movies, and was one of the first people I knew 
     to get a TiVo. He amassed a video collection that would make 
     most production houses either envious, or initiate a lawsuit. 
     He loved to get underneath a car and change the oil or fix 
     the brakes. He loved to watch a good basketball game and, 
     back in the day, he played a pretty good one too. He loved 
     his yard, his grass and his flowers--and he knew that a rainy 
     day in May was good for them, and we need to remember that on 
     this rainy day in May. Inside that yard on Idylwilde Circle 
     was a house he loved. For a kid from Brooklyn, it was almost 
     a dream come true.
       I say ``almost'' because it's what he put in that house 
     that made the dream come true. His two big loves: his family 
     and his faith.
       We can't talk about family without talking about Mom. He 
     called her Marge, sometimes Margie. He loved her so much and 
     was so devoted to her. For nearly 57 years, they were side by 
     side in marriage, and they were rarely apart. Together they 
     made a home for us that, despite the occasional adolescent 
     chaos, inspired a love and devotion that we all hold for each 
     other still and have extended to our own families. Together 
     they are the best examples of parents you could ever ask for 
     or imagine. Thank you, Mom and Dad.
       My brothers and sister know that the finest way to honor 
     Dad's life is to bring comfort and love to Mom in the days 
     ahead. I know we will all do that and do that together.
       All six of us know how much Dad loved us and how devoted he 
     was to us and he showed it in many different ways. He was the 
     one who taught you how to throw the ball, ride the bike or 
     shoot the basket. He fixed the dollhouses, ``fine tuned'' the 
     science projects--usually long after we had gone to sleep, 
     and quietly replaced the windows broken by either a stray 
     elbow or a stray basketball. He pushed us in school, steered 
     us towards college, was always there to talk about issues at 
     work and shaped us into the men and woman we all are today. 
     We are all blessed and fortunate to call him our Dad.
       For almost twenty-six years he was Grandpa--his favorite 
     role in life. All seventeen of his grandchildren are here 
     this morning--he loved you, found excitement and joy in you 
     and the things you did and thought you were the greatest 
     things to walk the earth. Take comfort today in the fact that 
     he knew how much you loved him. For the rest of your life, 
     carry him with you in your heart--never forget the love he 
     offered, the lessons he taught, the stories he told or the 
     fun that you had with him.
       Dad's brother, our Uncle Gene, is here today with us, along 
     with his family. Uncle Gene knew Dad longer than anyone and 
     his sense of loss is profound and sad in ways that many of us 
     simply might not understand. Thank you Uncle Gene for loving 
     Dad so much and for so long.
       And thank you to all our cousins and relatives who came--
     many from long distances--to be with us to honor Dad today.
       Dad's other big love in life is the reason we are all 
     gathered together this morning at Saint Christine's: his 
     faith. This church was a very important part of our lives 
     growing up--in many ways an extension of our own home. All of 
     us here this morning can draw comfort and strength in the 
     fact that Dad believed very deeply in God, and that he 
     practiced that belief every day--not just in attending daily 
     Mass, but in everything he did. He believed deeply in the 
     Rite of the Eucharist--the very Mass we celebrate this 
     morning. Most important of all, he believed deeply in the 
     Resurrection and in Eternal Life. His faith was a special 
     gift. That gift is still here and all of us can find comfort 
     and solace and inspiration in it.
       I'd like to leave you with one final thought this morning.
       In addition to being all about the love, many of you know 
     that Dad was all about the conversation. We've all heard it 
     so much these past days--how friendly he was, how nice he was 
     to talk to. He had what the Irish call the ``gift of gab.'' 
     And he was well-known and beloved for it.
       He'd smile at and talk to people anywhere he was--the post 
     office, the bank, the grocery store, the waiting room at the 
     dentist's office, South Station, outside of church, inside of 
     church--did not matter if you were a neighbor, or a complete 
     stranger. It is an amazing attribute and it is not lost on me 
     that perhaps the wrong person in the family got involved in 
     politics.
       Admittedly, it could get a little exasperating. You'd be on 
     your way with him somewhere, usually under some timeline, 
     you'd turn around and he wouldn't be there. He was back at 
     the last intersection asking the bike courier where he went 
     to school and what he was going to do with his life. And 
     questions were not the end of it, there was always an 
     ``advice-dispensing'' component as well--``you should go to 
     UMass'' or ``you should try Harvard Extension'' or ``you 
     should try and get yourself some office experience.'' It was 
     classic Dad.
       One gray morning last December, I arrived at work early and 
     decided to run some Christmas errands. We knew Dad was sick, 
     and I was worried and sad. As I walked down Washington Street 
     in Boston, I found myself saying hello to the morning 
     commuters, hurrying in the cold to get from the T station to 
     their offices. Complete strangers. A few looked at me like I 
     was insane, but most of them smiled back, said ``good 
     morning'' and I even got an occasional ``Merry Christmas.'' 
     It felt good. It lifted my spirits. And I understood.
       It was Dad. It was his spirit. It was his love. It was his 
     faith.
       And that same spirit and love and faith of his--they are 
     all here with us today and will be every day.
       In the days ahead, take a moment to say hello to someone 
     you don't know. And when you do, think of my Dad--his spirit, 
     his love, his faith.
       God Bless you Dad. We love you and we miss you and we will 
     never forget you. Rest in peace.

  Mr. KERRY. I suggest the absence of a quorum.
  The ACTING PRESIDENT pro tempore. The clerk will call the roll.
  The legislative clerk proceeded to call the roll.
  Mr. UDALL of New Mexico. Madam President, I ask unanimous consent 
that the order for the quorum call be rescinded.
  The ACTING PRESIDENT pro tempore. Without objection, it is so 
ordered.

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