O'Neil E. Carpenter Obituary (1929 - 2017)

O’Neil Carpenter, 88 Oakland - O’Neil Earl Carpenter, 88, beloved father, grandfather, and great-grandfather and brother, died quietly at home surrounded by the love of his family on Friday November 10, 2017. O’Neil’s large extended family had the privilege of spending the week with him, laughing, singing, comforting him and saying their goodbyes, until he quietly slipped away to join his sons. O’Neil was the eldest son of the late Arthur and Violette (LaChance) Carpenter. Neil, as he was known to family and friends was born October 20, 1929 in Waterville, the week of the great stock market crash. This historic event shaped his hard working character and strong fiscal accountability. Yet he never hesitated to support his church, favorite children’s charities and family when needed. Neil attended local area schools and was a member of St. Joseph’s class of 1945. He enlisted in the Army and served in Europe during WWII. In his early years he worked for his father’s construction business, A.J Carpenter & Sons, building many area homes. After leaving his father’s business he worked for more than 45 years for Logan & Sons, a Portland-based painting contractor. Logan & Sons was a generational family owned and operated company. Neil was their generational family employee. Over the years he worked alongside his brothers, all of his sons, grandsons, nephews, even his second wife. It was a regular family affair. Neil was not big in stature but was large in life. He was known for his charming personality, storytelling, and sense of humor. In his earlier years he enjoyed getting together with his family to listen to his sister Marlene sing or going out to “Uncle Don’s camp”, having a few beers and playing horseshoes. He enjoyed his son Timmy’s singing and playing guitar and discussing all things sports with his youngest son Jason, especially watching the Patriots play and enjoying a shot of cognac. Neil’s greatest joy in life was his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Not one of which was spared his undivided attention; the endless teasing with his false teeth, scary stories or money challenges. The collection of old wheat pennies, change in old bottles and the endless supply of silver or gold dollars handed out to all kids at Christmas. Neil was predeceased by his parents, brothers, Donald and Raymond; his sons Robert, William Timothy and Jason O’Neil; and his first wife, Lillian (White). He is survived by his daughters: Jacqueline Sweigart and husband Chuck; Violet White-Carpenter of Oakland; and Jodi Jones and husband Will, of Vassalboro; sons: James O’Neil, of Waterville; Peter Boudreau and wife Jennifer, of Oakland; David Boudreau and his wife Jessica; and ex-wife Judith Westman of Lewiston; brothers: Arthur (Biz) of Fairfield, Alfred and Danny of Waterville; sisters: Marlene WIncapaw of Clinton; and Diana Nadeau and husband Ronald of Oakland; ten grandchildren; 13 great-grandchildren, and many nieces, nephews and cousins. Neil’s family would like to thank the physicians, NP, nurses and technicians at DCI Dialysis Unit for all of the care and camaraderie they provided to Neil. It was the relationships, teasing and joking with the staff that made his years with them less tedious and more enjoyable. There will be a gathering for family and friends to celebrate Neil’s life on Sunday, November 19th, 2017, at 1:00 p.m. Waterville VFW, 51 Water St, Waterville. Visitation will be from 4-6 p.m. on Monday, November 20, 2017 at Veilleux Funeral Home, 8 Elm St., Waterville. There will be a Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday, November 21, 2017, at 10:00 a.m. at Notre Dame Catholic Church., 112 Silver St., Waterville. Burial will follow at St. Frances Catholic Cemetery, 78 Grove St., Waterville. Please visit www.veilleuxfuneralhome.com to view a video collage of Neil’s life and to share condolences, memories and tributes with his family. *********** The following eulogy was given by Neil's nephew Mark: Good morning. We are here today to pay tribute to O'Neil Earl Carpenter. When I was first asked by the family to deliver the eulogy for Uncle Neil, I considered it both a privilege and an honor. I must admit, however, that once the significance of such a responsibility began to dawn on me, I became quite anxious. Surely there was someone who could speak in memoriam of Neil better than I - a brother, a sister, one of his children or grandchildren, a cognac distributor, perhaps. A deluge of questions bolted through my mind - where do I start, what do I say, how does one sum up a life of 88 years. I first considered something spiritually inspirational, but surely the Father would speak to such things and do so with a greater expertise and eloquence than I. Then I began to look to the many adages that come to mind at times such as these that seek to serve as society's lifeline to those in mourning. But in considering the topic, I realized that after a lifetime of hearing such platitudes, the words become empty and we begin to divest ourselves of their intended meanings. Expressions such as "he had a good life", "at least he is out of pain", "time heals all wounds", or "it's for the best", while filled with good intentions, do little to ease our sorrow. Grief is about a broken heart, yet too often we try speak to a person's intellect as opposed to their heart. Suddenly, as if Neil himself was guiding me, I came across a poem called "The Dash" by Linda Ellis. In brief summation, it was about a man who rose to speak at the funeral of a friend. He made reference to the dates on the tombstone - a beginning through to an ending, but he noted that what mattered most was the dash between those years for that dash represents the life one has lived here on earth. And at that moment it came to me - Neil would not wish me to speak of his passing in melancholic verse. Instead, he would want me to give voice to words for the living, for Neil both appreciated and embraced his dash. Neil was to some extent a paradox. He was a man of considerable faith, yet had his transgressions; he worked hard and he played hard; he could be a clown, but also a shoulder to cry on; a hard man, he could also be very loving; and he was what some might politely call "frugal", but he was also quietly generous. Neil's dash was long and the themes that loom as the epitome of his life’s character are three: faith, family, and humor. Neil was a man of great faith. Raised in this very parish, for a time he strayed slightly from the church as he worked to build a life for his family. As is often the case, life just got in the way. In time, he would return to the welcoming embrace of the church. Through it all, he held close to his heart the tenets of his denomination - in particular the doctrine of charity. He provided for his family when they were most in need and donated in support of various facets of the church's vocation. But Neil's altruism did not pause at his doorstep or end at the church threshold. He quietly contributed to the needs of others by giving to various children's causes, cancer research, and in support of our Native Americans, to name but a few. He understood that faith required more than just attending church services, it was in how one strived to practice their faith and in the promise of benevolence toward the less fortunate of God's children with no eye toward personal reward. Second only to his faith, was Neil's devotion to, and appreciation of, family. To him there was nothing more divine here on earth than the gift of family and time spent with loved ones, like congregating with his brother's and sister's for an almost weekly breakfast or the gathering of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren at his feet. He could be quite adamant about our commitment to one another whether that was assembling in celebration of the Christmas holiday or converging for dinner and a show at Lakewood Theater. Neil held that family was not an important thing, but that it was everything. Nearing completion of the raising of his own family, we would soon turn to three others - a young girl and her two brothers. He welcomed them and cared for them in a way that their true lineage would be barely discernible to those who knew no different. They were to him, as they are to all of us, part of our family. For what makes a family is not the blood that runs through our veins, but the adoration we have for one another deep within our hearts. A baby brother would soon follow, and once again he would seize upon the role of father to a new brood. Neil believed that in a family no one gets left behind and no one is forgotten. It was the pledge he made to us and the promise he expected of us to one another. For those who may not have known of Neil's deep faith, or truly understood the depth of his commitment to family, the one aspect of Neil's personality we all knew well was his sense of humor. Best symbolized by the twinkle in his eye and a crooked smile, when you saw them it made you ask, " Just what is he up to?" His wit was playful, but could also be slightly acerbic. I've often said that if my family does not tease, taunt, or badger you, they most like don't like you. Neil personified this concept. For in humor, he expressed his love. Like many men, particularly of his generation, the words "I love you" did not fall easily from his lips, but through his humor you knew his heart. Saying the words "I love you" to Neil might be met with a response such as "I know", but in those precocious words he was not just saying "I know you love me", but he was saying, "You know, I love you too." To the end, Neil held close to him these three canons of his life he deemed most important. Through his life, he taught us that it matters not the materialistic possessions onto which we hold. Instead what is of significance are the things that we quietly embrace within our hearts and bind to our very souls; that it is how we live, how we love, and how we spend our dash that has the greatest worth. As in nature, our lives, too, make their way through the ebbs and flows of ever changing seasons. It should not be lost on us that Neil departed this earth on an autumn day, for the fall season brings with it the peaceful passing of life - blades of once sturdy grass grow still and descend into quiet slumber; flower petals spill to the earth as if weeping for life's loss; and leaves gently let go to drift away on the winds of change. The cold and bitterness of bereavement will follow, but soon, and before we know it, life will spring forth once again with its warmth and hope for what's to come. And now, like those autumn leaves, we too must learn to let go and drift away into a tomorrow of change. Mourn if we must, but Neil would not wish us to become enveloped under the stark and icy blanket of our wintry grief. He would want us to hold fast to one another and look to our futures - to the vibrant colors of our own springs. He would ask of us, "How will you spend your dash?" He would tell us to be courageous, to be fearless, and to continue to fight as he did so intensely and for so long. To embody our faith, to cradle our family, and to preserve our sense of humor. I would like to conclude with a quote from Winnie the Pooh's Grand Adventure. Now I am quite sure that most of you did not come here today expecting to hear a eulogy that would somehow tie Neil Carpenter together with Winnie the Pooh, but if Neil could share some final thoughts with us, I believe they might be summarized as follows: "If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you." Je t'aime, mon oncle.