I thought I should post my eulogy here for those who were not able to attend his memorial service on March 22nd. Here goes:
I am Judy, Patrick Hay's oldest sister. Patrick was the youngest of twelve children born to Bill and Maggie Hay. Since he was the twelfth child born to a Catholic family, he was baptized by Thomas J. Connelly, Archbishop of Seattle. His oldest brother, Greg, and I were his godparents: apparently Mom and Dad had run out of family and friends to take on the godparent responsibility! Patrick was born in Seattle, but seven of his siblings were not: Mom was pregnant with his brother Mike when our parents moved from South Bend, Indiana to Seattle. My father had never been to Seattle before deciding he needed to live there, but a cousin of his sent him a post card and told him how beautiful it was - and how great the hunting and fishing were. Hunting and fishing? Say no more: Dad quit his job, sold the house and moved, even though he had not secured a new job yet. They moved with all their belongings in a U-Haul trailer, packed the seven of us children in Dad's '57 Chevy, and off we went cross-country, camping along the way. This was in August, 1959. Mike was born in November...
I think it's important to say that we all grew up in a three-bedroom, one-bathroom house - and there was no lock on that bathroom door. To say we were close-in a physical sense-is an understatement. Imagine being the youngest of the group, vying for food, privacy, or bathroom time. That was Pat's lot. We were close emotionally, too, but our way of showing affection was usually a slap or a pinch...or a punch. Since Pat was the littlest for some time, he got more than his fair share of that kind of "affection." Poor kid.
Pat inherited Dad's "get up and move" ethic, as did others of us. He joined the Army and even after he was discharged, stayed in Panama working for the Navy. He then took an assignment as an Army civilian which moved him and his young family to Germany, where he lived and worked for many years. As a tribute to his fearlessness, I want to relate a little story: when Dad died, Mom wanted to visit Pat and his family in Germany. I was lucky enough to be able to escort her there. One day, we told Pat we were going to take a drive to the Black Forest for the afternoon. We returned three days later without ever being able to call Pat to explain why we were missing. We had gotten immediately lost, and just kept driving. When we finally returned (we got as far as the Neuschwanstein Castle in Austria), instead of finding Pat in an agony of worry, we got this from him: "I knew you'd come back eventually." Typical. I call him "phlegmatic." He just took things as they came with equanimity and usually wry humor.
I have a confession to make: when Pat was a little boy, I told him he was adopted. I will never forget the look on his face when he confronted me with a picture of Dad when he was a little boy. They were clones of each other. "You told me I was adopted," Pat said, waving the picture under my nose. "Well, I never thought you believed me," I responded. "Who has eleven children and then adopts a twelfth?" That was the only time I ever saw Pat angry...and it was all my fault. Still, though, who has eleven children and adopts a twelfth? Seriously...
I also remember learning that a woman who has twelve children for the Lord is guaranteed sainthood. I rushed home to tell Mom, who was bent over the stove stirring a pot of something big enough to feed all of us. "Mom!" I shouted, running into the kitchen. "A woman who bears twelve children for the Lord is guaranteed sainthood!" She didn't even look up from the pot, but kept stirring. "That's only if you wanted them," she deadpanned. Stunned, the only thing I could think to meekly ask was, "How many did you want?" To my relief, she said "Four." That was great. I was the third born! Hurray! To my shame, I have shared this news many times with all of the unwanted children in the family, including Pat...
Pat was one of only two lefties in the family. His sister, Kathy, is the other. But Pat wasn't only left handed, he was left-footed, too. He plied that foot with great skill on the soccer field. I remember his proud father bragging about his awesome skills.
Pat was quirky. He was funny. On one of his stays in Seattle, at his sister Mary's home, he renamed Mary and her daughter, Ariel, as "Murray" and "Earl." To this day, Ariel calls herself Earl. Thanks, Pat.
Pat was a kind person. As I think about that, I cannot remember him ever having a bad word to say to or about anyone. Perhaps only his sister, Bebo, could compete for niceness. The rest of us were like a pack of wolves, roaming the Seattle city streets back when it was relatively safe to do so. We had great childhoods and love sharing memories with each other.
We are all seriously aggrieved by Pat's passing. He was taken way too young! His surviving siblings are, in order of birth: Greg (wife, Linda, children Keith, Nora, and Kelli), Mark, Me (husband Frank, children Frank, David, and John), Kathy (children Michelle, David, Jr., Micah, and Kayla), Toni (children Jocelyn, Jenna, Gerald, Jr., and Gabe), Bebo (husband Jim, son Ken), Chris (children Melanie and Jordan), Mary (children Zachary and Ariel). The siblings who pre-deceased Pat are Mike, Jeff, and Angie. Jeff left children Bernie, Kristi, Jesse, and Nate. Angie left children Rachel King, Dusty, Josiah, Luke and Jeremiah Blodgett and daughter Christie Collins. Other notable passings are Mark's wife Kathy and their son, Marcus, Kathy's husband Dave and her daughter, Dawn Marie; Chris lost his wife, April; Toni lost her husband, Gerald. Dad passed in 2000, Mom in 2016.
We will aways miss you, Pat. Here we are, the living and those who have passed, in order of birth:
Greg
Mark
Judy
Kathy
Toni
Bebo (Barbara)
Chris
Mike
Jeff
Mary
Angie
Patrick
Rest in peace, brother, Patrick. We mourn your loss.
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