My Dad’s Heart Beat About 3,423,772,800 Times. Then It Gave Up. And Now I Finally Understand The Power Of Hope In A Resurrection.

I am talking about this man’s heart below, my father. I ask you; is he not a most dapper looking fellow?

VICTOR-KOCHMANN-Obituary

I have a few things to say about his death, especially his last 24 hours, and how it affected me. I don’t have anything interesting or profound to say. Really. Not my goal. Thoughts have been flying in and out of my mind at an insane level this past week … imagine each thought as a drop of water flowing over the Niagara Falls. It’s like that. Good memories. Bad memories. Weird thoughts, and even mundane. So, there will be no logical progression with this thread followed by a neat tidy summary as is my usual method. Mr. Quinn graciously granted me the privilege to write whatever I feel like writing. So, I am writing these random thoughts only to preserve for my own posterity some memories still fresh in my mind which I do not want to forget … because memories fade over time, or worse, become altered.

So, this is it?? This is what death looks like?? THIS IS ALL THERE IS??

Holding my dead father’s hand this is what I thought over and over and over … for what? Ten minutes? Twenty? Time slowed down for me, then it sped up, for a while I existed in a timeless state of mind, almost disembodied. I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing … except the dead body of my dad, while a million thoughts simultaneously stabbed at my brain..

I thought about him,deeply. A man is born into extreme poverty, and a horridly physically and mentally cruel home life, and escapes that. He is drafted into the German Army in WWII, gets shot and survives that, and winds up as a prisoner of war, and escapes from that. He works as an indentured servant in Scottish coal mines and escapes from that. He goes to Austria, meets his bride, but due to tough economic conditions has to leave behind all he knows and loves and come to a strange land far away where he knows no one. He works his ass off to save, buy a small house, and have a little money left over for retirement. Then he dies. That’s it? This is what life is about? Work, work, work, suffer, laugh a bit and love a bit, then die. That’s all there is? You mean to tell me that I will never laugh with my dad again?? What a damned cruel universe! Then again, is the universe obliged to acknowledge our existence, much less give it meaning?

A man said to the universe

“Sir, I exist!”

“However,” replied the universe, “The fact does not create in me a sense of obligation”

Stephen Crane, The Red Badge Of Courage

.

“O death, where is thy sting?” —- 1 Cor 15:55

I’ll tell you where the sting is.

“Recall your favorite memory: the big game you won; the moment you first saw your child’s face; the day you realized you had fallen in love. It’s not a single memory, though, is it? Reconstructing it, you remember the smells, the colors, the funny thing some other person said, and the way it all made you feel.

Your brain’s ability to collect, connect, and create mosaics from these milliseconds-long impressions is the basis of every memory. By extension, it is the basis of you

—– Your Brain Doesn’t Contain Memories. It IS Memories.

 

Dad’s brain had about 100 billion neurons (even the heart has neurons!). Each neuron could be connected to 10,000 other neurons. These neurons pass signals to each other via synaptic connections … as many as 1,000 trillion of them! Some estimate the memory capacity of the human brain can be as high as 1,000 terabytes (by comparison, the 19 million volumes in the Library Of Congress represents only 10 terabytes of data).

Somewhere in that vast network my dad’s brain remembered the very first time he met my mother, about 65 years ago, even the clothes she was wearing (for he told me so), even though that moment in time lasted only seconds. And within seconds of his heart stopping to to pump blood, those brain cells also died. Dad’s body is there in front of me  but, the him that made him him, is already gone. Within hours, or is it minutes (?), decay is already ravaging that wonderful organ. Mom is still alive, but not in dad’s brain.

What am I to think? That dad’s 1,000 terabytes of memories at the moment of death are stored somewhere so he can be reanimated at some future time? Where? Heaven? How? A gigantic storage device? How does God go about this storage process? Or, are dad’s millions of memories in God’s mind, and God can just recreate them in total whenever He wants?   Is there something called a “spiritual body” with a “spirit brain” that is an exact duplicate of dad’s earthly body? But, a duplication, no matter how perfect, is never the original, is it? What if I want my original dad is back?  Will the atoms and patterns be resurrected, or just the patterns? One day I pissed off dad so much that he punched me in the head. Really. Will that memory be saved … or only good memories? And if only good memories, is it really dad? So many questions, so few answers. It’s been almost a week now. I’m pretty sure dad’s brain is turning to gray mush.  That’s the sting of death.

Am I being to dramatic? After all, many here have experienced the death of immediate family members. Some of you were even children when you were introduced to death. It’s a bit different for me. Plenty of my family members died. But, I was barely out of diapers when we came to this country, the three of us; dad, mom, and me. I have never personally experienced the death of an immediate family member. It is shocking and life changing, even though I am in my early 60’s.  In fact, it might be worse .. especially since I think so much about it … than if dad would have died when I was a teenager … although that’s just a guess. Nevertheless, it has been a life-changing and mind-altering experience for me.  Having now joined the club that has seen and tasted death up close and personal, I frankly don’t know who the death of a beloved would not change a person.

Dad’s last 24 hours.

“Jeez.  I don’t think dad even knows he’s dying. Should we tell him?”

The morning before he died, Dad pushed his covers back and, unbelievably, he tried to get out of bed. He said he wanted to make breakfast for himself and mom, as was his custom. On more than one occasion he made other comments about his future;  how he wanted to go to the liquor store to get some German beer (“surely, we must need some by now”), or that he wanted to make it to the German singing club practice on Saturday (“I bet they miss my voice”).

We all decided not to tell him. It seemed the most kind thing to do. Also, how in the heck do you say it”  “Hey, dad. You know I love you but I got some bad news for you. You’re gonna be dead soon!”  Ummm, no thanks. Yet, I’ll forever wonder until my own demise — (boy, oh boy, the REALITY of my own death … I have far more years behind me than in front of me … has never been clearer!) — if I/we did the right thing.

Yet, about 8 hours before he died, he cried out quite loudly in pain for about 10-15 seconds. It was his right arm. I quickly massaged it until the pain went away.  I suspect he was getting cramps due to his not drinking enough water.  He was so discouraged. He asked why this is happening now because he never experienced pain in that arm before. I simply told him that if would just drink more water than it won’t happen again.  He looked at me sadly and said; “Alles wirt gebrochen, Nikilein. Und so geht mein Leben zu Ende.”  — Meaning;  ‘Everything is breaking. And this is how my life comes to an end.’.

It is one of the very last things he said to me. I think he knew. At least at the end. Then he fell asleep, again. For which I was grateful. Because I wept bitterly for a long time, and not the last time.

“I think we made a mistake bringing him home. Maybe we should have put him in the hospice center.”

That’s what mom said after a few days. I don’t blame her. Sure, the hospice nurse came to the home once a week, and the nurse’s aid came every day for two hours. That was nice, helpful, and appreciated.  But, caring in home for a dying loved one is a 24-hour a day job.  It is very very difficult.

It’s not even about the work and lack of sleep. It’s the emotional toll of seeing your loved one literally waste away before your eyes. I condemn no one who elects to put their loved one in a hospice facility. My dad was a house painter for a long time. Standing on ladders for 8-10 hours a day, sometimes 7 days a week, resulted in a man with very very strong arms and legs! And, now, here he is laying in the bed, weighing 130 pounds and looking like a concentration camp victim. How many can handle that?

When my dad was still peeing and pooping — although even that stopped in the last week — it was me who pulled down his pants, and wiped his behind. We were never a touchy-feely family, not too many hugs even, so doing this was quite a shock to me. Well, only the first couple of times. After that, I counted it as a privilege to help my dad in the most private of human endeavors. His poop and my hand brought us closer than ever!

I was with him the last 30 hours of his life. He couldn’t even swallow water! So, every 15 minutes he would cry out that his mouth was “dry as dust”, and all I could do for him was put a few drops of water in his mouth, and then take this wet mini-sponge on a stick the hospice folks left with us to rub the inside of his mouth and tongue.

Then I would go to the back room to rest a bit for I was so exhausted from the days previous.  He calls out again.  And one time I think to myself; “Oh, sweet Jesus, not again!”. So, I waited a couple minutes before I went to him. I am ashamed of this, and will regret it the rest of my life!  But, as I said, I’m writing this to preserve memory … accurate memory … and, so, there’s no sugar-coating my despicable act.

The last three hours or so, he cried out for drops of water every five minutes, or less. Really.  I highly doubt even a hospice center can give that amount of time and care to a patient. How could they? Dad would have died being thirsty.  So, I’m glad we had him at home. I’d do it all over again, regardless of the emotional cost.

There’s also this; — “To bear witness a loved one’s death is an extraordinary gift. It’s a gift from the person, to allow you to be there as they transform into something else. To be shown death! To be shown how to die! What greater gift is there?”  You can read that article here;

The Extraordinary Gift Of Watching Someone You Love Die

“Yes. I remember that!  That was funny!”

That was dad.  When he did open his eyes, I tried to engage him in speaking by recalling fun memories.  We had a small TV at the foot of the bed. He liked watching the 10 o’clock news, … and soccer.  We had a Roco device so we could also watch YouTube vids. I found one with highlights of the old NY Cosmos soccer club.  I said to dad; — “Remember the time we saw saw Pele score two goals, and on the second goal you got so excited that you jumped up and down … with the umbrella in your hand, and you stabbed the guy in the head in front of us, and how he wanted to start a fight with you until the guy saw that I was with you?”  (To those who don’t know me, I’m 6’7″ and back in the early 80’s I was fairly fit.) Oh, my oh my, that brought a huge huge smile to my dad’s face!  This was dad’s last smile.

That is not to say dad was in pain.  Except for the occasional cramp, and as the end approached the tips of his fingers hurt him (there were turning purple, literally), he was in no pain whatsoever.  He died a very painless death. And he never lost his mental faculties, not even a tiny little bit. For that I am eternally grateful to the good Lord.

 

“What the hell?? Did I just hasten my dad’s death????”

The nurse’s aid came that day to change sheets, dad’s pajamas, and give him a shave.  After she left I said to John (my sister’s husband) that Dad has now been in bed for over almost a week, so why don’t we put him in the wheelchair and take him through the house.

So, we did. As we did he cried out “Help me! I’m falling! Help me!”. He even said it once he was in the chair.  So, I bent over him and said; — “Papa, don’t you worry about it, OK? You know I’m strong enough to carry you. You know I would never ever ever let you fall. Right?”  He gave me a slight smile. That was good enough for me.  Little did I know it would be the last words we would speak to each other.  I HATE myself for not adding …”because I love you.”

We rolled him into the kitchen.  One of the reasons I wanted to give him a house tour of his house is because he was slightly delusional;  he kept saying he wanted to “come inside” and that he wanted to “go home”. When we reminded him that he was inside, and that he was home, he would roll his eyes and wink and say “Ach, I am such a dumpkopf in my old age.” Clowning around even as he’s dying.

So, we’re in kitchen.  I immediately notice  change in his disposition. His eyes are a bit glazed over and not focusing.  He didn’t react much to being in his favorite room. Rolled him through the house and ended in the TV room. A soccer game was on. No reaction.  He just closed his eyes, and slumped his head on his chest, breathing a little heavier than I liked.

Well, I had been up 30 hours.  So, I decided to go to the mansion (1 mile away) to freshen up and make dinner before returning. I was making steamed asparagus and buffalo burgers.  I get a call from my sister. She not saying a word, just crying hysterically. I knew. I’m over there in three minutes. Dad died while she was trying to take his blood pressure. Dad in the wheelchair in the kitchen, her on the floor with her head on dad’s lap sobbing hysterically, John holding on to her, and I let out a primal scream such as you’ve never heard before.

I wanted to be there when dad died!!!!!   I wanted to hold his hand!!! Instead, I’m home making a f*****g hamburger!!!  I hate myself for this. Not to mention that dad might have lived a day or so longer had I not put stress on his heart by taking him out of bed.  I know this may not be logical, but I don’t give a damn. These two things will haunt me the rest of my life.

Christine and John eventually went to the back room for reasons I won’t state here (but, I will never forget).  So, it’s just me and mom.  Dad’s head is of course, slumped down on his chest. Mom asks me to put him in bed, so she can see his face.

No problem. I wheel dad to the living room where the hospital bed is. No problem. Except I’ve never picked up a dead man before. No problem lifting him up out of the chair. But, then the “dead weight” kicks in as I approach the bed. I almost let him fall to the ground. I have to grab his pajama pants to lift him up. Do you understand what happened?  His arms, legs, and head were flopping all over the place.  It was freaking horrible. I felt like I was hurting him … stupid as that sounds.

And when he was in bed, I put my right arm behind his head, my left arm across his chest, and put my cheek on his cheek, and cried a good long time. I hummed to him over and over “Amazing Grace” … the Cherokee Indian version which I showed him three weeks ago, and which he loved and sang loudly throughout the day.

 

My dad’s obituary is below. I apologize for the political sidetrack, but I just have to say this. On the way in to the library to finish this up I heard Sean Hannity (cuz I no longer have Sirius radio). He was going on and on about Trump — how it just doesn’t matter not even one little tiny bit who Donald Trump had sex with; that it is a personal matter and doesn’t interfere with his duties as a President. First of all, Sean is a raving lunatic hypocrite for he was singing an entirely different song when Billy Boy was getting stimulated in the Oral Office. Then it mattered … a lot. Secondly, since when does a man’s character not matter? Have we sunk so low that we no longer care about such things?  If a man can not keep a solemn vow made to his beloved wife …  then how in the world can you trust him to keep his promises to you, a total stranger? I’d like to know the answer to that. My own dad was not a perfect man. Far from it. But, he was a good, decent, and honest man. If he stripped your wallpaper and found a hundred dollar bill glued to the wall, he would return it to you, even if you weren’t in the room when he discovered it. And, despite the rocky marriage between him and mom, he never not once ever cheated on her. It just wasn’t in him. He was a man of his word. He kept his promises, always. If Trump was half the man my dad was, he might actually have a chance at making America great again.

========================================================

Victor K., 92, passed away on Wednesday, March 21, 2018, surrounded by his loving family in his home. Victor was born in Chernivtsi, Romania, Sept. 19, 1925, to Eugenia and Josepf K. and was raised there until he was a teenager, then drafted into the Army during World War II. Following the war, Victor resided in Scotland for some time after World War II and then worked in a coal mine for three years before relocating to Austria, where he met his wife, Anna. While living in Europe, one of Victor’s proudest moments was becoming nationally recognized as master interior house painter by the European community, a notable status that takes a lot of time and dedication to achieve. He also became fluent in seven languages, which he learned simply by listening to others speak. Victor immigrated to Newark, N.J., and after many years of saving from his many jobs, he earned enough to buy his first house and moved to South Plainfield, N.J. in 1966. After arriving to the U.S., he became a machinist for the Ruesch Co. in Springfield, N.J., until his retirement. But after a year, Victor decided he needed to keep busy, and went back to work for many more years at Siemens. A dedicated, loving family man, his family was so appreciative and so proud of his committed work efforts he put forth to provide, support and care all of them. And he was so proud of his first home in South Plainfield so much he never wanted to leave and he never did. Victor had a beautiful voice and loved to sing. He sang at home for his children and his wife almost every day, and even for his cat, Bootsie. He loved to dance and he loved to laugh and never stopped joking around, even when life was difficult. He made everyone smile. He was a proud member of the Plainfield Gesang Turn Verein, a German singing club. He never missed a concert, and it brought him so much joy. Victor was also the bartender for all the events, and loved serving his favorite German beers, which he made sure everyone knew were brewed under strict German purity laws. In addition, Victor was a passionate soccer fan and followed both the German and U.S. national soccer teams. He was such a devout fan, he was interviewed by the local paper and made the front page during the World Cup. He loved following the New York Cosmos as well, and never missed a game. Anyone sitting near him had to duck and cover because when a goal was scored all his food and drinks went flying into the air with his happiness. He will be missed for all the joy and all the love he brought to every single person who was lucky enough to know him. Predeceased by his parents and sister, Valeria, Victor is survived by his beloved wife, Anna; daughter, Christine of Edison, N.J.; son, Nicholas; two grandchildren, David and Samuel, and four great- grandchildren. Honoring his wishes, all services are private. His children will plan a memorial to celebrate his life in the coming months.

========================================================

I’m going to see my dad again! I now see that Christianity is about Hope. Hope is such a beautiful thing. I know it makes no sense. I don’t care.  I know I may be irrational. I don’t care. I know it may be stupid dumb wishful pie-in-the-sky garbage. I don’t care. I know all the arguments against seeing dad again … I’ve made many of them here, including in this thread.  I don’t care.

Image result for body going to heaven

I’m going to see dad again.

Because this can’t possibly be all there is.

.

.

 

 

 

Author: Stucky

I'm right, you're wrong. Deal with it.

149
Leave a Reply

avatar
  Subscribe  
Notify of
Olga
Olga

My sympathies Stuck – from what I could tell by your writings you have always been a good son. And you will continue to be for your mom.

Tom S.
Tom S.

Sorry for your loss, Stuck. You have written a beautiful, moving tribute to him and who he was. Your Dad sounds like a great one (they made them that way back then, mine was vintage 1926), and you are a testimony to that fact.

I lost my own five years back, and I miss him as much now as I did that day – maybe more. Yet I know that the time is coming when I will be able to see him again, and talk about all that has happened since we last spoke.

overthecliff
overthecliff

Others have written my feelings so much better than I. Don’t blame yourself because you think you failed. You didn’t and your father knew that. It gets better but you will always remember him, with love.

lynetta32233
lynetta32233

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”
Thomas Campbell

As one who has walked in your shoes, Stucky, my heartfelt condolences. I took care of my mother, with Hospice’s help, as she died of pancreatic cancer . It’s been twenty years, but I still remember the all-encompassing exhaustion–and guilt and regrets–that inevitably attend such an experience.

An artist friend sent me the above quote in a beautifully framed plaque, and I found it extremely comforting. While it’s been twenty years since her death, I’m reminded a hundred times a day of my mother as I go about my daily activities, and I’m sure it will be the same with you. As long as there is breath in your body, your father will never “die.”

Time will ease your grief.

Tony
Tony

Condolences, so sorry for your lose. Any of us can only hope for our own children being there for us in a similar way when the time comes.

Mercy Otis Warren
Mercy Otis Warren

An honest testament that was. Sometimes — most of the times — life really is that hard. But “life is beautiful” too. That movie always rubbed me the wrong way being the absolutist that I am. I mean yeah the kid survived the working/extermination camps. In fact he thought they were something completely other. And why? Because his dad lied to him. But maybe it wasn’t just a lie; maybe it was a creation (you know the likeness and image thing); a creation that not only gave life, but flooded the darkness with light. That can not be all that bad, can it? It was not necessarily bad that you did not tell him he was dying. Often times the cut and dry leads to oblivion, while the mysterious leads to something (one) that makes life worth living. Here is some poetry for you (f@#$%^ if I know what it means, but it sure is pretty):

Because that you are going
1260
Emily Dickinson

Because that you are going
And never coming back
And I, however absolute,
May overlook your Track—

Because that Death is final,
However first it be,
This instant be suspended
Above Mortality—

Significance that each has lived
The other to detect
Discovery not God himself
Could now annihilate

Eternity, Presumption
The instant I perceive
That you, who were Existence
Yourself forgot to live—

The “Life that is” will then have been
A thing I never knew—
As Paradise fictitious
Until the Realm of you—

The “Life that is to be,” to me,
A Residence too plain
Unless in my Redeemer’s Face
I recognize your own—

Of Immortality who doubts
He may exchange with me
Curtailed by your obscuring Face
Of everything but He—

Of Heaven and Hell I also yield
The Right to reprehend
To whoso would commute this Face
For his less priceless Friend.

If “God is Love” as he admits
We think that me must be
Because he is a “jealous God”
He tells us certainly

If “All is possible with” him
As he besides concedes
He will refund us finally
Our confiscated Gods—

Ragnar Deneskjold
Ragnar Deneskjold

We all leave ripples in the lives of others…and have not a clue about how those actions may positively impact other lives, at other times, and herald new universes. Man cannot truly fathom rebirth.

This is how it is and shall ever be. Savor the best memories for that is our essence.

To look back and laugh is a great blessing. Forget the bad, embrace the good, and honor your parents through deeds yet done. Time does indeed heal all wounds.

bolliver
bolliver

Even if you don’t believe in God, he believes in you. He will be there waiting. At the end, love remains. No one goes thru the door alone.

Anonymous
Anonymous

The question isn’t whether
we believe in God or not…
the question is
if God believes in us.
Because if He doesn’t,
we’re screwed.
I don’t know
if I’m explaining myself.
I think he doesn’t.
At least,
he doesn’t believe in me.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=lunes-al-sol-los-mondays-in-the-sun

BB

You’re a good son Stucky. You were close by when your parents needed you the most. It’s a strange experience watching​ a love one die .It changes you forever. I will keep you in my prayers.God Bless.

Beth
Beth

I’m sorry for your loss. You wrote a beautiful story about your Dad that made me cry and you’ll see your Dad again someday.

Wip
Wip

I have no words Stucky. May God bless you for being there for your dad.

Peaceout
Peaceout

Sitting here in my office this morning with tears rolling down my checks while reading your open and heartfelt experience of your last days with your father. Memories of similar events when my father died over 40 years ago came surging from the depths of my conscious and made it feel like it was just yesterday I was going through the same thing. It is never easy, but it will get better.

I don’t know if it is a funny thing or not but even after all of this time I go to his grave site and talk to him, tell him what is going on in my life and the rest of the family. Thank him for things he may or may not of helped nudge one way or the other from the hereafter, stuff like that. At the very least the process is therapeutic and I always tear up before I leave. It is how I cope with the void of him not being present and able to share my life.

We all find our own ways to deal with loss in the days and months after as will you. Please accept my deepest sympathy for you and your family’s loss and thanks again for publicly sharing your experience with us.

Aquapura
Aquapura

I’m sorry for your loss. Sounds like he was a great guy, and anyone who likes his German lagers is ok by me.

Card802
Card802

Stucky, you’re a good son, a good man, a good husband, you learned that from a great man, and yes, I hope this is not all there is as well, if it is then cruel joke indeed.

I wish I could put my thoughts together in written form, just not in my short list of talents I guess.
No idea why but my eyes are watering and big nose is running, dust perhaps, or that my parents are close to this day as well, then it’s my turn to face that day.

Peace

Goofyfoot
Goofyfoot

Sorry Stucky. Such an awesome life both your parents have. I do hope your mom is ok. I’m terrible at writing emotional responses so I gotta leave it at that.

Sean, fellow Joisey follower.

Joseph Bratcher
Joseph Bratcher

That is one of the best tributes to a father I have ever read. It takes me back to 1 APR 2015 when my father died.

And as a father, I can tell you that there is no greater joy than to know your child is aware of, and seeking, everlasting life.

I think this blog is just about the best blog I have found in a long, long time.

Stephanie Shepard

“I wanted to be there when dad died!!!!! I wanted to hold his hand!!! Instead, I’m home making a f*****g hamburger!!! I hate myself for this. Not to mention that dad might have lived a day or so longer had I not put stress on his heart by taking him out of bed. I know this may not be logical, but I don’t give a damn. These two things will haunt me the rest of my life.”

Not true at all. Last year my uncle died of lung cancer. In the weeks before his death he kept slipping out of lucidity. Numerous times he said with urgency “he had to get ready” because he was going to watch the motorcycle races at the speedway with his buddy. When asked who his buddy was he replied, “I’m going to go watch the motorcycle races with Hintzie.” His “buddy” was my grandpa (his Dad) who passed away a few years prior. Every summer my grandpa went to the motorcycle races and dragged along anyone willing to go with him. That’s when we knew he was getting close to the end.

The week before his death he kept insisting he needed to go to the graveyard to talk to his Dad. One evening in the middle of Michigan winter his kids drove him out to the graveyard. The next day he went into the hospital with pneumonia. His kids blamed themselves for taking him outside in cold weather and thought it made him sick. Not true at all. My uncle knew it was getting time to leave. After being in the hospital a few days he was moved to hospice care.

Once in hospice care his daughter and brother left Texas and drove straight through the night to get to Michigan in time to say goodbye to him. The trip itself is roughly a 24 hour road trip. About 4 hours before they were due to arrive (they were somewhere in northern Illinois) we got the call he passed away. Somehow we all knew they weren’t going to be able to say goodbye to him. The weeks leading up to his death he stopped taking his siblings phone calls. He absolutely refused to say goodbye to anybody. He passed away with only his youngest daughter in the room. All his other kids had briefly gone home to eat or whatever.

Stop beating yourself up. You took him out of bed and took him around the house he spent so many hours of dedication towards. You had the perfect “last memory” with him you just don’t see it yet… Trust me on this. He most likely died when he did because you went home. You were probably the one person couldn’t say goodbye to before leaving. You were a good son to him. You didn’t have to say goodbye or that you loved him.

I never said goodbye to my uncle or attempted to call him in his last weeks. I had a phone call with him a few months prior to his death and after I hung up I knew it was the last time I was going to talk to him. Sure enough, I was right. The next month the man bought a bus ticket to Wyoming and disappeared for a few weeks with his oxygen tank in tow. Wyoming was “his place” and he wanted to visit it for the last time. He turned back up only a few weeks before his death and stayed with his kids for his final weeks. He died exactly the way he wanted.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Clammy, I agree. The old man probably took advantage of the opportunity to slip away while Stuck was gone. The old man knew Stuck was gonna take it too hard.

Elijah Taken Up to Heaven
1When the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven in a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. 2Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here; the Lord has sent me to Bethel.”

But Elisha said, “As surely as the Lord lives and as you live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel.

3The company of the prophets at Bethel came out to Elisha and asked, “Do you know that the Lord is going to take your master from you today?”

“Yes, I know,” Elisha replied, “so be quiet.”

4Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here, Elisha; the Lord has sent me to Jericho.”

And he replied, “As surely as the Lord lives and as you live, I will not leave you.” So they went to Jericho.

5The company of the prophets at Jericho went up to Elisha and asked him, “Do you know that the Lord is going to take your master from you today?”

“Yes, I know,” he replied, “so be quiet.”

6Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here; the Lord has sent me to the Jordan.”

And he replied, “As surely as the Lord lives and as you live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them walked on.

7Fifty men from the company of the prophets went and stood at a distance, facing the place where Elijah and Elisha had stopped at the Jordan. 8Elijah took his cloak, rolled it up and struck the water with it. The water divided to the right and to the left, and the two of them crossed over on dry ground.

9When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me, what can I do for you before I am taken from you?”

“Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit,” Elisha replied.

10“You have asked a difficult thing,” Elijah said, “yet if you see me when I am taken from you, it will be yours—otherwise, it will not.”

11As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. 12Elisha saw this and cried out, “My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!” And Elisha saw him no more. Then he took hold of his garment and tore it in two.

Platoplubius
Platoplubius

So true Stephanie.
Sometimes saying “goodbye” seems like it means forever and so we push away those we love because the pain of the realization of the permanent nature of the final stage of life, death, is too much for most of us to deal with at times.

Like the OLD dog who finds the solitary place underneath the porch of the house, away from everyone’s eyes, to curl up into a ball and breath his final breaths.

Everyone has to face their mortality in the end by themselves, but having family and friends around, even though we say we don’t want them to see us like that, DOES provide strength and comfort to us!

Stephanie Shepard

You’re complete right.

My story of my uncle’s death is probably different than others who’ve experienced a prolonged natural death. I already knew my uncle didn’t want me to say goodbye to him. He missed his Dad’s funeral “by accident” and listen to the service over speaker phone. He barely made it to his Mom’s funeral and that’s only because it was a direct flight so there was little chance of travel mishaps. During her wake he disappeared into the parking lot at funeral home and spent most of the time talking to different family members outside.

So yeah, not the type to say goodbye.

DRUD
DRUD

First of all, my heartfelt condolences, Stuck.

What you have written here is no less than extraordinary. Through you words I was able to share in an experience so profound, poignant and moving…how can it possibly be that such a remarkable, mysterious thing can happen all the time–probably thousands of times around the world just during the time I spent reading this–everywhere and ultimately to everyone? Thousands of generations of men and women have spent their time here and passed on to where your father now rests..does that in any way diminish your experiences or his? Never think it, because:

“There HAS to be more than this.”

God bless.

Penforce

Thanks Stucky. Sorry for your loss. A complete life, a fine life, yes?

DaBirds (Si vis pacem para bellum)
DaBirds (Si vis pacem para bellum)

Stucky,
As I sit here with my eyes welling with tears, I can only offer my heartfelt condolences. My father passed away last summer a week short of his 93rd birthday. A mere shadow of the man I grew up with. That for me is the hardest memory, that and my own shortcomings as a son. Our relationship was contentious at best, as I was always closer to my mother. The weird thing is, his death hit me much harder than hers. Maybe it was seeing the steady degradation of the rock of a man I knew or my failure to try and bridge the gulf that separated us. I may never know…

Your attention to your father was more than admirable, it was truly honorable.
God bless and keep you.

Michael

Jeannie
Jeannie

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.
Thorton Wilder. The Bridge of San Luis Rey

Peace to you and your family.

MuckAbout

@Jeannie: What a lovely quote. I’ll memorize it..

muck

BL
BL

Stucky- My parents have been gone for many decades now. Losing my father was the hardest for me, facing the fact that I could never talk to him again was just so damned hard. You are so lucky to have had your parents up into your sixties, that is a true blessing that most of us don’t experience.

Your father’s life was eventful, good and bad, and certainly not mundane. If you wrote about some of those tribulations he endured, it would be a real treat for all who come here to read great articles.

Tots

Stucky,

I’m a lurker around here but please accept my deepest condolences and prayers for you and your family. I can only imagine the anguish you’re going through and those are the only things I can offer.

Thank you for writing this post do we could have a glimpse of your father. May he rest in peace and may your reunion in the next life be joyous.

Tots

Goofyfoot
Goofyfoot

https://youtu.be/6sFyRQPraJ8?t=11.. Lots of Dead shows in my past. Here’s one for your poppa, cause it appears he’s been on many roads. Peace Stucky.

YouknowwhoIam
YouknowwhoIam

My condolences to you Stucky. You’ll see your Dad again…right after I slap you up beside the head for cursing at me the way you did a while back and for ever doubting that God exists… 😉

Have no worries…Your Dad is in good hands and you’ll see him again… and it will be glorious…. You can trust me on that.

The best that I can offer is to ask God to Bless you.
May God Bless You.

Edwitness
Edwitness

I offer condolences and prayers for you and your family Stucky. I lost my dad 1 1/2 years ago. I miss him dearly. Hope makes not ashamed because God’s love is shed abroad in your heart by the Holy Spirit when you trust in Him. In that case you will certainly see him again.

javelin
javelin

My father and I were estranged for nearly a decade when I got an early morning call that he had passed. He was buried on his 60th birthday– a Vietnam vet with many post-war physical and mental issues. I never forgave him during his life for the things he did, it was at the viewing after everyone else had left that I lingered to last and told him I forgave him. Years later I forgave myself for not trying harder to mend the fences earlier.

I often listen to music a lot when I am soul-searching and I remember listening to this once frequently after my father’s passing. It hurt but also helped heal the hurt….. I am sorry for your loss but am so glad to hear that you were so wonderful to him near the end– He probably didn’t feel the need to tell you how proud he was of you as his son, old German men say these things in a different way…….

Mary Christine

You made me cry. Nobody makes me cry. Well hardly ever, anyways.
A couple things struck me right away when I first read this a 630 this morning.

Only Stucky can make a statement about cleaning up your father sound philosophical. It would not be a Stucky essay without a Stuckyism.

I am on my phone trying to post between errands. And trying to remember everything I wanted to tell you.

Did you call yourself despicable or detestable? I can’t remember. No you are just human and humans get exhausted. Like I have been since moving last weekend. You can only go without rest for so long. Just a couple minutes…you are sooo tired. You just need a few more minutes. We second guess ourselves because we are caring humans. If only…we say to ourselves and we beat ourselves up.

You know what else struck me? You said the Lord is good. Yes you did. Wow! This really did change your opinion of God!

Tears..my husband is driving and that almost came out as teats. Tears are good. So are teats but thats for another day. Ps 56:8 says God keeps a record of our tears.
Tears are healing.

I told you I would pray for you and I did. I’m sure I’mnot the only one who did. I prayed for you to have peace durong these dreadful times.

Your post drove me to scripture this morning. Isaiah 57:1. I read through to Chapter 60. I have been woefully neglectful of reading it lately.

So HFS said you look like your father. So then you are a dapper looking man, as well. Your wife is a lucky woman. I know you say all the time you are a lucky man. You both must be blessed to care so much cor each other.

Most of all your essay is a testament to how important it is to have a good father in ones life for both sons and daughters. The cultural Marxists know this and this is why they are trying so hard to stamp out the traditional family.

I started this comment at 2pm this afternoon. Ive been working on it off and on throughout the day as we ran around the city. Have to unload the car. I hope this all makes sense as I won’t get to edit within the hour limit.

May you find peace in these trying days.

Anonymous
Anonymous

Tears are good. So are teats

Nobody says ‘teats’ it sounds so barnlike.

Mary Christine

Yeah it does because it is a barn reference. Virtual keyboards suck. It was a typo

Francis Marion
Francis Marion

Hi Stuck. I’ve been saving this piece for an evening read. I’m at the cabin with my wife and kids right now and it’s been nice weather so we’ve been outside a lot and I wanted to wait to read this while a movie was playing after dark and I could get away with being on my phone beyond a quick email or twitter check.

I come from a big pioneering family so I’ve seen my share of death starting from when I was pretty young. And I’ve seen it all. Farming accidents, strokes, aneurisms, death by livestock, car accidents you name it. I thought I had learned to cope with it well then a few years ago my daughter nearly died on us. The thought that scares me more than anything is losing one of my kids. I used to think they were the key to immortality in this world but the message I got from God at that moment was this:

You are not in control. He is.

I look at my family a little differently now, less as a legacy and more as a gift. We are Gods gift to one another and in our small way have an opportunity to experience his love here in this world through one another.

Your dads passing is tragic but his life and his relationship with you is evidence of Gods love as well. As is the sharing of your experience with all of us.

You’re a good man Charlie Brown. I’m proud to be able to say that although I’ve never met you I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to get to know you as you, in turn, get to know yourself.

Thanks for sharing with us.

Mongoose Jack
Mongoose Jack

God bless. And rest assured there is indeed much more after our time here. That was a beautiful tribute. Very well done. May you find comfort in the days to come. You acquitted yourself well.

IndenturedServant

Stucky, having experienced The Great Profundity of losing my own father a year and three weeks ago I know that there is not much that can change the way you feel. I did not want to read your story as I’ve had enough grief and loss in the last year…dad, mom 8 months later, my sister a year to the day after my dad and the best dog I’ve ever had just two weeks ago but read it I did and it made me cry.

Like yours, my father was honorable and a man of his word. He never preached to his sons or anyone else for that matter about how they should live their lives…….he just showed us by living his. This carried over into the last year and days of his life. There was so much I wanted to ask about his thoughts and feelings during this time but I figured these are private thoughts that each of us only get to experience in our own time. He never lost his sense of humor or that sparkle in his beautiful blue eyes. He soldiered on through the inevitable indignities that come at such times and I think that helped me as much as it helped him. I think it was a gift we gave to each other.

One quick story…My father spent all but the last 40 hours at home. It was only by accident that he died at the (most awesome, seriously) VA Hospital. He was living in my brothers living room the final weeks and he had the heat cranked up to a level I could not endure so we bought a baby monitor and I slept in the next room with the receiver after letting him know that he only had to sing out if he needed anything.

On this night he started calling for my idiot brother (who wasn’t there) and I jumped up right away but stopped thinking that dad would get irritated at him for not coming to help (a good thing in my mind) but after about ten seconds I went in to check on him. He wanted my brother to take the dog out of his room but I explained that the dog was upstairs. He said ok and I asked if there was anything else he needed and suggested a glass of water.

He said that would be a good idea before adding that that was the real reason he’d called out and that he’d just used the dog as an excuse. I got him a glass of water and said that if he didn’t stop fucking with me I was going to give him “bathroom water” next time instead of kitchen water which made him laugh. The reason for the laughter goes back to my childhood when we had an 8 or 9pm bedtime. The last thing us kids wanted to do was sleep so we’d fart around being a general pain in the ass. One of my tactics was to ask for a drink of water. He’d generally yell back that I should suck my thumb for a while so a few minutes later I repeat the request. He’d get up, grab a glass, fill it up in the bathroom and bring it to me at which point I’d tell him I didn’t want bathroom water, I wanted kitchen water. Despite not having talked about that for more than forty years, his laughter that night told me his memory was still razor sharp.

Your experiences and mine during our fathers final year and days were remarkably similar. You know I’m not a believer in sky spirits but I don’t deny that God may exist. It was at his moment of passing (I was curled, sleeping, in a semicircle around him when he passed) or a few moments afterward, that I was struck by the profound realization that we’d never talk again. That is what I miss the most, talking with him about anything and everything. Like you, I wondered, and still wonder “Is this it?”. If something comes after I sincerely hope that it is so magnificent that he would never be distracted from it to think for even a second and his former Earthly existence or concerns to include his family. In my mind he has already fulfilled his Earthly obligations with style and grace.

I do wish I could still talk to him but truth is that even if I had another thousand lifetimes with him it would not be anywhere close to enough. Though I can’t say that my father was perfect, I could not imagine ever having a more perfect father than the one I had. If I could die and choose any man for my father I would choose the same man for eternity. I sense you feel the same.

A man’s most
lasting influence
on the world
is seen in the faces
of his family…
in the light in their eyes
when they talk about him…
in the love they’ll hold on to forever.

Here’s to a good man…Victor K.
the life he lived
the hearts he touched,
the legacy he left behind….
in you.

With Sympathy
IndenturedServant

Tell mama Stucky I’m thinking of her and to go out and enjoy whatever life has left in store for her. I’m sure that her dear husband would have wanted nothing less.

Maverick
Maverick

A great summary of your Dad’s life, Stucky. Peace to you and your family in this time of loss and sadness.

curtmilr
curtmilr

Stucky,

Sorry for your loss! Parental loss at our age has greater effect, because we are nearer our own demise.

The finality of it! And yet the fragrance of memories, sweet and foul.

How the commonplace becomes sublime.

The insignificance of the body, and the indescribable significance of the spirit that powered it.

Finally, the hope in the Power that created your Dad’s spirit.

Llpoh
Llpoh

Stuck -my condolences. Having lost my father some years ago now, I have some understanding of the process. I struggle with things to this day, and suspect I always will.

My father was a man of two characters. One was deeply, deeply, flawed. The other was kind, loyal, and generous. My struggle is invariably with the experiences I had with the first. About the best I have been able to come up with is that he did not know any better, and was unable or unwilling to lift himself out of that abyss. He had the mental capacity, but for whatever reason was unable to set aside the horrible things that had happened to him and move forward. He needed someone to blame for his situation, and never understood that he could take responsibility for himself and his lot. He became bitter and twisted with regret, although his good character was also always there as well.

I have resolved to live my life without regret, and when my day comes, to be willing to look back and hold myself accountable for what happened in my life. For the most part, I have few regrets. I have made many errors, many mistakes. But my life changed when I made this resolution. I see many, many people who cannot come to grips with taking personal responsibility.

I am saying this as I know your father was a complex man. You will try to understand his strengths, and his weaknesses, over the coming days, weeks, months years. Perhaps you will see things more clearly than I, and be able to decipher the complexities of your human father. But in the end, it may prove elusive, if my experience is anything to go by.

You have evolved personally. It is a monumental achievement. Taking action and responsibility for one’s life and its outcomes is an incredible feat, and you should be rightly proud.

Perhaps your father (and mine) planted the tiny acorn that allowed the evolution to occur. I cannot see that planting clearly, hidden as it is by the part of my father that was so deeply flawed, but perhaps you can.

It is ok to be angry, sad, confused, to grieve. These feelings may never entirely pass. And perhaps they should not. But the oak from the small acorn will continue to grow. It is life at its most wondrous, I am afraid.

RiNS

I had long piece written and deleted most of it.. I find there no words. So here is my final attempt..

with some help from some friends I have never met..

Maverick said above..
A great summary of your Dad’s life, Stucky. Peace to you and your family in this time of loss and sadness.

I showed my wife what you wrote last night. She says she would like to meet you someday. Hope that can happen. Neither of us have lost a parent yet so neither her nor me have any idea what you have just been through. Someday soon it will help us. Who knows when that will be…

What you wrote though is going help us some day down the river. So thank you from the bottom of my heart…

Xrugger said yesterday in another thread the following..

I love this place.

I concur rugger. I love it too!

Here is another song about hope…

Hope you like it.

Yours in Odin,

RiNS

grace country pastor

You write… ““O death, where is thy sting?” —- 1 Cor 15:55”

I encourage you to delve more deeply into the chapter should you feel so moved. Allow the words to burst with meaning. It has specifically to do with resurrection; Paul was addressing some who did not believe Jesus actually rose from the dead. There is so very much the Bible has to offer. We just need to know where to look and you found a great place to begin what I’ll hope is an amazing new journey. It will not be an easy one but there is none more worthy.

I counter… 1 Cor 15:36… “Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die:”

I am truly sorry for the loss of your father.

Anonymous
Anonymous

One of the reasons he was able to quote this verse is that Pastor Stuck is very well versed in the bible. Like many believers, he has been tested. This is not his first rodeo.

I counter…1Cor8:2 Those who think they know something do not yet know as they ought to know.

RiNS

So you are like a kosher Pocahontas. You and Liz Warren should hook up on Ancestry.com.
You two might be related…Ya just neva know..

Slainte!

per sigurd
per sigurd

I am so sorry for your loss.

Anonymous
Anonymous
RiNS

Here is a good song… about hope.

LGR
LGR

+10 RiNS.
Tesla’s version is pretty good, too.

Aodh Mor MacRaynall
Aodh Mor MacRaynall

Believe me when I tell you, this is not all there is.

Edwitness
Edwitness

There has not an eye seen nor ear heard of the wonderful things God has prepared for them that love Him. Our blessed hope gets us a very small taste of it though.
Blessings:-}

Llpoh
Llpoh

Jewishness travels via the women. It is an all or nothing thing. One thing – Jews are renowned for their intelligence. I therefore suspect you are a goy.

Administrator

I thought they were known for their little peckers. Ms. Freud say Stuck qualifies on that count too.

Anonymous
Anonymous

His mom is going to read this. She will have some words to say on that, I’m sure.
“I thought all boys had three legs, no?”

“It was after the first wife, Ma, I was left a changed man.”

Tex
Tex

Thanks for sharing. So sad, so many similarities. Siebenburgen deutsch, the “sangerbund”, and doing whatever you could when you landed in the US. They were stoic about death because they had to be. Not us, though – thankfully. You’re dad lives on in you. That’s the only immortality I’m sure of. I’ll stop rambling. Bless you and your family.

Anonymous
Anonymous

LOL. Your great grandma just gifted you a Howitzer to put in you Comment Tool Box. Seriously, that is so funny given the history of the subject here on TBP.

My guess is you’ll be looking deeper into that side of your family out of sheer curiosity. I for one would be interested in what you find. It would make a good post.

In the spirit of how this can only be understood and appreciated by fans of TBP; I congratulate you on your most excellent discovery. And I really mean that.

comment image

T4C

LGR
LGR

I’ll try to do this from memory.

One time at nice lake, in a calm cove where the surface was smooth and lillypads graced parts of the surface, there lived a colony of water bugs down near the bottom, where the muck was thick, cold, & wet.
It was a grim existence. They swam around hectically, always laboring, scrounging for food, and scampering away from predators constantly. Constant toil.

Every once in a while, they’d witness one bug who’d had enough, and thinking he’d escape the dark, wet gloom, would scurry up the stem of a lillypad, try to traverse the underside, and crawl on top to experience an unknown destination and what it might offer.

More often than not, the adventurous ones would fall back down into the muck at lake’s bottom, exhausted and discouraged.

All the bugs wondered about this, because they’d seen a few who made it out, to never be seen, or heard from again. Gone forever, to somewhere unknown.

A few of the senior ones had a meeting, and decided one exceptional water bug among them would be chosen to make this trip, with a promise to return, and report what he discovered.

The most noble, elder bug who had the physical and mental strength to make the journey was compelled.

He agreed to return and report if it was worth the belief that something better was ‘up there’.

Up the stem he went. A difficult journey, it was. Fell back down a few times, but finally made it to the stem top.
Now, crawling upside down, along the underside of the pad, he risked a frightening end from predators, but soldiered out, exposed to danger.

At long last, the edge of the pad was reached. With one final push, and a painful scream, he hoisted his tired weak body on to the top of the pad, and collapsed.

Knowing he had to go back and report what he’d found, he vowed to do so, but first, a well deserved rest. A quick nap, into unconsciousness.
It was warm, and dry up there.
He drifted off to sleep.

Upon wakening, something had changed. He felt bigger. Stronger. Free. Beautiful. Longer legs, a bigger body, abundant light, the warmth of the sun, and sounds so peaceful and serene, it was glorious.
Energy returned, and instinctively he lept off the pad and discovered WINGS!
HE COULD FLY!
He buzzed around through the air with a joy he’d never known before.

As he slowed to a hover, just above the calm lake surface, he glanced down, and saw his own reflection in the sun soaked lake.
No longer a tiny black bug in the muck, he’d transformed into a beautiful blue and green dragonfly.

First, elation at his own beauty and freedom to fly, but then a mild sadness.
He couldn’t return.
It wasn’t possible to keep the promise of reconnecting with his family of water bugs he’d left behind.
In the end, bliss returned to him, knowing that sometime later, they too, would make their own transition, and they’d once again be reunited, in a realm more glorious than water bugs could possibly imagine.
He could only hope they’d keep believing, in faith, that something truly magnificent awaits them on the other side.
†*********
Stuck, it might have come across as a corny little tale, but maybe you’ll be reminded of its significance, and your Pop, the next time you’re out on a hot Summer day, maybe by a lake or pond with lillypads, and you catch sight of a dragonfly, dancing on the wind beneath a blazing sun.
Another realm is out there.
Believe in it.

Thanks for reading.

RiNS

That was a good story LGR. It had nice hook and surprised me at the end.

Cheers

LGR
LGR

Maybe it’ll make it into the memoir book, and Mrs.K will take some solace in it, if not our BDR.
~He sure elicits a flurry of comments and respect here on the platform.
A cool place, indeed, as you and rugs stated earlier up. Tough to stay away for too long. Thx Rob.

TACOTACO
TACOTACO

I could not hold back my tears…

God bless you and your family.

Discover more from The Burning Platform

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading