Socrates Sdrakas
I would like to honor and remember my father, Gregory Sdrakas—a man who was truly one of a kind. Not because he was loud or competitive but because he was steady, kind, and unwavering. The kind of man who didn’t need attention to make an impact. The kind of man whose love showed up every single day.
My father was a hardworking man who always put his family first. And when I say “first,” I don’t mean in words—I mean in action. He gave everything he had, not just to us, but to friends, neighbors, and even strangers. He believed everyone deserved a chance, especially the ones others underestimated. That selflessness, that quiet strength, leaves a lasting mark on everyone who knew him.
He was a gentle soul. Kind in a way that never asked for recognition. Caring in a way that expected nothing in return. He carried himself with humility and dignity, and he never wanted to be a burden to anyone. Instead, he spent his life lifting others up.
As a Greek immigrant, my father taught himself how to read and write English—not because it was easy, but because he was determined. He earned his citizenship through perseverance, patience, and intelligence. His journey reflects the true immigrant spirit, grounded in Greek values of faith, family, and honor.
Faith wasn’t just something he spoke about—it was something he lived. He was faithful to God, faithful to his family, and faithful to his word. He didn’t chase distractions or temporary pleasures. He didn’t put himself first. He chose, again and again, to show up for his family. Love, to him, wasn’t extravagant—it was consistent.
And he was incredibly talented with his hands. A carpenter, painter, builder—if it could be fixed or built, he could do it. And if someone needed help, he never hesitated. When he heard that a local church needed help opening its doors, he didn’t just offer advice—he hand-crafted a giant Orthodox wooden cross and donated it to stand at the front entrance. That was my father: faith you could literally see, built with his own two hands.
He also knew how to enjoy life. He loved being with family, eating good food, and playing games—especially family poker. His favorite hand? Pocket deuces. Why? Because they were underestimated. And that says everything about him. He believed the underestimated deserved a chance—whether it was a hand of cards or a human being. And somehow, those deuces always seemed to win.
If you knew my father, you knew his gentleness.
If you were helped by him, you felt his generosity.
And if you were loved by him—especially as his child—you were truly blessed.
Though we mourn, we also give thanks. We are grateful for his life, his sacrifices, and the values he passed down. His legacy lives on in his children, in his family, and in every life he touched.
Dad, you gave everything you had. You loved deeply, worked honestly, and lived faithfully. We hope you knew how proud we are to call you our father.
May your memory be eternal.
Αἰωνία σου ἡ μνήμη.
Love and miss you so much! 😞🙏♥️✝️
Your Son, Socrates Sdrakas
