Posted by Krista Roberts on May 10, 2020:

Gordon A. Dopslaff By Ken Roberts (2/2019) By show of hands, how many of you play golf? Now how many of you have played golf with Gordon? If you didn't raise your hand, I hope you'll indulge my golf references for the next few minutes. You see, Gordon loved golf. Not as much, perhaps, as his Black Knights, the UConn Husky Women's basketball team, the Jets and Mets, Guinness, pretzels, cream cheese and olives - and certainly not as much as his friends, his country, his faith, his wife Pat and his daughters Krista, Laura, and Mary and their families - but he did love golf. And playing golf with Gordon is where I realized that the game is really a metaphor for life. In the game of golf, there are only three states of being: Joy, Suffering, and what lies in between - Grace. So, when I first started playing golf with Gordon, I spent most of my time suffering, because I wasn't as good as I thought I should be. And I was a notorious club thrower. I was, until I found out that Gordon was disappointed in my less than graceful behavior, so I stopped. He was not the kind of person you wanted to disappoint, just because of the kind of person he was. And if you knew him, you know what I mean. But as I came to know him better, I realized that while Gordon had his fair share of bad shots on the golf course, and some personal suffering off of it over the course of his life, he also had the grace to accept all of this as part of the game - part of life - and keep moving forward. He lost his hero, his big brother Skippy, at an early age in a terrible car accident that left him and his mother, Zelbe, hospitalized. Later, he would experience the loss of West Point classmates in Viet Nam, as well as both of his parents, and other friends and family members along the way. But it was the joy he took in life, and in the good shots, that gave Gordon the grace to be the man he was. And there were many sources of joy. He took joy in his friends - many of whom are here today to honor him - in his family, and especially joy in his grandchildren, for whom he wrote poems upon the occasion of their births. These words, committed to paper as a reminder of his tremendous love and faith, are a treasure for Lindsay, Ben, Jenna, Haley, Hanna, Luke and Jordan to forever cherish. In one of these sonnets, he wrote "the families had gathered to share our joys and give thanks to Him for your health. And the grandchildren will know His love through us; it's more precious than earthly wealth." He also loved a good laugh, often at his own expense. One of the purest forms of joy I've ever witnessed was when something tickled him to the point of tears, leaving those around him following suit, heaving and tearing up in laughter. It was ridiculous and infectious. But the best was when the laughing would subside, the tears would start to dry, and, without provocation, he'd go right back to the same laughing fit, shoulders heaving, and take everyone else along for the ride. Getting back to the golf theme, I have to share something I overheard at Pat's house about a month ago. Gordon's friend Dan was recounting a round of golf he played with him. For you non-golfers, when playing a difficult course for fun, you sometimes set a limit on the strokes you count, sometimes even picking up your ball without finishing the hole to keep play moving, and stop the suffering. But not Gordon. True to his West Point Cadet character, he insisted on playing out each hole, to the end. He counted every shot, even when that meant taking a 13 on one hole. And I think it was a par 3. Now one might attribute that behavior to his upbringing by his father, Big G, who was a baseball coach, and his mother, Zelbe, who was probably the most unflappably positive person I've ever met. Or maybe it was his West Point training, or just his innate stubbornness. (Incidentally, that stubbornness, as those of us who married his daughters know, goes deep in the DNA.) But as I reflect on Dan's story - I believe that whatever "it" was, that "it" was very thing that sustained Gordon over these last 10-plus years of his life. In golfing parlance, those years were what we call "tough finishing holes." But Gordon, despite facing challenges that would have brought most of us to absolute despair - either giving up, or giving in - just kept playing, counting every shot, every smile, and every small joy along the way. But he didn't do it alone. He was also sustained by the very family and friends he loved so much, and bolstered by a new family of caregivers, some of whom are also here today. Together, they helped Pat keep Gordon in the place they both loved and had made such a loving home. Fortunately, Gordon also had his faith, which I feel gave him the grace to accept the love so many gave. This family preserved his health and his dignity, even in the most difficult times. But that's what families do for each other, isn't it? If you join us after today's service, you'll see one of my favorite pictures of Gordon, the one with his West Point baseball teammates. They are all absolutely stone faced, despite the fact that they're standing next to some of the members of the 1963 New York Yankees who they just played in an exhibition game. Maybe it's because they lost, but Gordon's expression in that picture amazes me every time I look at it. Especially when you consider that Gordon is standing next to none other than Mickey Mantle, one of the 10 best baseball players ever to walk the earth. Ironically, you can see that same expression in some of his wedding photos, so I have to think it was the West Point discipline that explains his face. Because if I'm sure of anything in this world, I know that he was far more excited to be standing next to his beloved Patricia in those pictures than he ever was standing next to the Mick. Because while golf, baseball, football, the Mets, Jets, Black Knights, and friends and family were all loves of his, let's face it, they were all relegated to the back seat of his shiny Studebaker Avanti behind two things: his faith, and his faithful wife. And Pat, aka Patty, aka Lady Bug, aka Little Guy, aka Nanny, aka the undisputed love of his life, returned that love by doing everything in her power to keep Gordon home, even as his disease progressed. He was surrounded by music, sports on TV, family, friends, love, and all the joys of life, until his dying days, which came just after Christmas last year. It was as if his spirit willed his body, which had long since failed him, to hang on, so that family could say their final goodbyes, even if he was not always able to respond. If you saw Gordon in his final years, months, or even his final days, you might have caught yourself saying, "He's in there." Because despite his difficulty communicating, you just knew. Maybe it was the way he'd smile or laugh at a joke, or the little raise of his eyebrows, or the point of his finger. But you knew. That ability to be there was the embodiment of the grace with which Gordon lived his life, every day, to his last day. As we each suffer the loss of Gordon, a man who was our friend, classmate, father, brother, cousin, uncle, husband, or Grampy, we all have our own memories. For me, he was a great golf partner, and an even greater father-in-law, as Dan and Kevin, my brothers from other mothers, would agree. He helped me learn to accept the bad shots, and take joy in the good ones, with grace. Speaking metaphorically one last time, isn't that grace what really counts when we turn in our scorecard at the end this earthly round? While I'm not a Catholic, my favorite part of any mass is the peace, where we reach out to those around us and connect to something greater than us all. I hope you'll now join me in wishing Gordon that same peace. And I hope you'll also join me in taking some of Gordon's grace with you as you leave - and live your life - both today and in the tomorrows to come.

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