TheBakersfieldCalifornian.com

The eulogists described him as a big man who never made you feel small. They spoke of his mischievous sense of humor, his penchant for giving hugs and his fidelity to faith and family.

But when the Rev. Gerald Hartz turned to the young people in the standing-room-only church in southwest Bakersfield and asked a pointed question once, twice, then three times, the already quiet sanctuary fell truly silent.

"What are you going to do about Philip's death?" Hartz asked. "What are you going to do with your life in his memory when your tears dry up?"

They were maybe the most profound words spoken Friday morning at St. Philip the Apostle Church, where family, friends, Garces High School football players and hundreds of members of the "Garces community" came to pay their respects to the family of Philip Alexander Dhanens, who was just 18 when he died earlier this month after a night of drinking at a Fresno frat house.

Fresno police are still investigating, and the results of an autopsy have not yet been released. But the death of such a promising young man who was only weeks into his first semester at Fresno State has left many in the community shaken.

You could see it in their eyes Friday as women cried and men struggled not to.

Every pew was filled, so mourners stood in the aisles and overflowed into the foyer where many stood for some 90 minutes, listening without being able to see the proceedings.

Monsignor Ronald Swett, the church's longtime pastor, noted that the congregation was gathered not only to pray for Philip but "to pray for ourselves as well as we must continue the journey Philip has already completed."

At 6 feet, 5 inches tall and weighing in at more than 300 pounds, the defensive lineman earned the nickname "Big Phil" during his years at Garces. And while Philip liked to compare himself to a grizzly bear, many who knew him said the description "teddy bear" was more accurate.

Swett told the congregation Friday that he had been going through a Dhanens family file in preparation for the funeral service when a packet of papers fell to the floor, including a decade-old Christmas card from the family.

Staring up at Swett were three photos of Philip, his brothers Niles and Joseph, and his parents, Paul and Diane Dhanens.

"I didn't consider that a coincidence," Swett said of the unexpected appearance of the photos.

The images reminded Swett of just "how small Philip once was," a little boy who would grow to become a young man on the cusp of adulthood.

"One thing I can say about us," Swett said as he looked out over the packed church, "We truly loved Philip. You couldn't help but do so."

As Communion was received by mourners, Philip's brother Joseph sang a moving rendition of the classic "Ave Maria." Several of the musicians and vocalists were relatives and family friends.

When mourners were once again settled in their seats, Philip's longtime girlfriend, Zoe Tucker, recalled the day Philip wore her name on his chest at a sports event.

"After getting over my embarrassment," she said, "I realized this guy is something else."

The heartbreak, she said Friday, is in knowing she will never again see Philip's infectious smile or feel what it's like to be wrapped in one of his big bear hugs.

Philip's brother Niles lamented the fact that he's already beginning to get used to the idea that Philip will not be around to do the things that made him unique -- including a plan he often shared to someday move next door to Niles and raise a family of his own.

Some two years ago, Philip became a student in Bill Workman's film class at Garces. The class of juniors was the most memorable he'd ever experienced, Workman said.

"Philip was a huge presence in our film family," Workman told the congregation. "What a smile that kid had. They were all contagious."

Philip was the prankster, always near the center of any laughter or distraction.

"Phil was always the last one to get serious, but when he got serious, he got deep," Workman said.

That year, Philip's favorite movie was "Cool Hand Luke," a 1967 film starring Paul Newman about an inmate of a chain gang in the deep South who refuses to conform, to his own peril.

Workman said Philip wrote an essay extolling the virtues of the film, and noting among other things that the story and Newman's rebellious character were close to his heart.

But then, in true Big Phil fashion, he added a punchline, Workman remembered. Philip said he also "really liked Newman's balsamic vinaigrette."

All of the eulogists succeeded in shedding light on Philip's short life, a life of humor, affection, dreams of the future and love for his family and friends.

But it was Hartz, Philip's pastor and friend in campus ministry class, who ultimately distilled the story of Philip's tragic death down to that profound question:

"What are you going to do about Philip's death?"

"I would suggest," Hartz continued, "if there is any further response to his death, it is life. Your life."

A life lived more selflessly, a life that is honest and decent.

It was a clear plea to Philip's friends, classmates and contemporaries -- and to all young people who are so vulnerable to alcohol-related tragedy and death -- to forgo immediate pleasure in favor of sobriety, safety and life.

Afterward, as the crowd of mourners gathered in the parking lot, two members of the Rams football team, wearing their jerseys in honor of Philip, headed toward their car.

What message, if any, did they take away from Hartz's plea?

"You should think about what you do before you do it," said 18-year-old Fidencio Medina III. "And be careful. Make sure you have friends around you. If Phil had had friends around him, he would have been OK."