I am talking about this man’s heart below, my father. I ask you; is he not a most dapper looking fellow?
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
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“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”
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;
“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.
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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.
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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.
I’m going to see dad again.
Because this can’t possibly be all there is.
.
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Stuck
I’m so sorry for your loss. You are a good son. Maybe AWD and Smokey are welcoming him in heaven in their own special way.
Thanks, Jim.
YOU made this all possible by allowing me to write here. Wow, what a privilege which I hope I never take for granted ….
Stuck,
We have had our moments here.
I hardly know you, yet over the years in some manner have learned about you and from you.
I am so sorry for your loss.
Your candor IS inspiring.
We all fall short so don’t beat yourself up, that’s part of the human condition and being given the ability to choose for ourselves whether to shine our lights or keep them dim.
I too had to witness my close Uncle (closest thing I had to a dad since mine was in prison for most of my childhood), a strong and proud blue collar worker, wither away from serosis of the liver.
Humor, like you bring, does help! He showed me that! Even in his final moments.
Please know that my prayers are with you and yours.
Peace
We are under heavy storms but wanted to give a hug. If this message gets out via phone, (((Stucky)))
My Nick was also with his dad… I saw him in a vision. A gift.
hi stucky, just wanted to say how familiar this all seems, especially about how time speeds up and slows down. the drive to the hospital to ID my Dad’s body was the longest i ever took. my dad was troubled, and i was privileged to be his guardian for the last 5 years of his life. i wouldn’t trade that for anything – with that time came empathy and love. he died the year my wife and i married when i was 37, almost 20 years ago. the shock of it is still fresh sometimes. don’t be too hard on yourself – i should take my own advice – we all have regrets, but time forgives all.
my own feeling and experience is that conscience is a fundamental part of the universe, and that while our brains allow us to see the show, that consciousnesses pervades and remembers all timelessly. your hope is real, God love us all.
Stuck
First my sympathy for your loss.
I gave my sweet Annette a kiss a little over a month ago.It was especially sweet because it will be the last kiss I will ever get from her. But I’ve had those kisses exclusively for 62 years and really couldn’t ask for more.
Now my biggest task is to determine how long I must hang on myself before going to down that lonesome road myself.
In the mean time that’s the question I’ll ask myself whenever I awaken.
May the best stick to you, Stuck..
Muck
Heya Stuck,
Pretend you’re rain barrel and your big toe is the valve. Loosen the valve and let all of the old rain water flow out of you; including the guilt.
You were there the times it mattered. You did your best and no one is perfect. You didn’t have to tell your Dad you loved him, because he knew.
Please accept my most sincere condolences.
“You mean to tell me that I will never laugh with my dad again?? ”
At least you got to laugh with your dad.
At least you got to have a shared relationship throughout you life and his.
“I am ashamed of this, and will regret it the rest of my life!”
NO – that was quite normal and you already exceeded what 98% of children do for parents at that juncture.
Such a handsome man.
There are claims that the Spirit doesn’t just take-off once it leaves the body. It will linger for awhile. No doubt he waited for his only son to arrive before taking leave.
Deepest condolences.
T4C
I’m going to have to save reading this for later and do it in little pieces… already have tears rolling down my cheek after a few paragraphs. My Dad has got a few more years left and I absolutely dread the day he dies. I’m going to miss him so much. I try to spend as much time with him as I can but it’s never enough…
I don’t know you, Sir, but I am so sorry for your loss. May you and your father laugh together again someday, even if only in your dreams and memories.
Sorry for your loss, brother. But this was beautiful. Thanks for posting it. Sounds like your dad had a quite the life. And he raised a great son too. Be well.
Deepest sympathy Stucky on the loss of your father, it is so difficult losing the man who molded you and taught you and loved you so deeply even though he never spoke the words. No regrets, all that matters is that he loved you all and you loved him.
You have my sincerest condolences. Godspeed.
Stucky
I am so sorry to hear of your deep and painful loss. Please don’t feel guilty – as others have said, you cared for him in every way, and sent him Home with lots of love. At least your sis was with him so he was not alone when he passed.
I made the mistake of leaving my mom alone on the night she died. I knew she was very sick, but I had just been through the death of my dad, and her situation looked so different, I thought there was more time. I grieve about that, but less often now. Things happen that we cannot control.
Your dad sounds like a fine and honorable man. He worked long and hard and has earned his rest. Now you are tasked with caring for your mother, who despite the conflicts she had with your dad, loved him and now will have a huge hole in her life. I know you will honor him by meeting her needs.
Take it easy, get some rest. We all look forward to your return, but take your time.
He walked nobly and spoke kindly. Thats what came to mind after reading. And anyone who didn’t cry after reading this is not human.
You were given a great gift and blessing both in his life and in his death. Hopefully you will be able to share the same with your sons many, many years from now.
Peace and blessings to you and your family.
I was at my fathers side at his death. My personal experience was so different.
Condolences Stucky….interesting thoughts and perspectives. Take care and God bless.
Stucky, a lot of times people are said to “choose” when they pass, to avoid putting someone “through” it, or conversely waiting on a certain person to arrive. So don’t worry about being there or not; you did everything right.
My question for after-life believers is: why do you need *more*?
Why isn’t all of this enough?
Chubbers, I am an atheist too.
But, wrong time to bring it up.
“I am an atheist too”
Is that the new, ‘what’s your sign’ pickup line at the gay bar?
“My question for after-life believers is: why do you need *more*? Why isn’t all of this enough?”
That is a really excellent question! The answer is too hard and complex to simply give a brief reply. It might make a good Question Of The Day. Better yet, it might be excellent material for a full blown essay. I appreciate you bringing it up. It surely made me think …
To my atheist, agnostic, and Odin Worshipping (lol) friends: I still love you guys, I really do. I hope you all aren’t too perplexed with my sudden shift regarding Hope in an afterlife. Don’t worry, I won’t be preaching at you, or trying to convert you. 🙂
A close friend said to me that dad’s death will change me … make me a more complete person. At first I thought “NAH!!!”. But, I now see the wisdom of those words.
Here’s one change I feel in my bones already; I’m going to be more respectful of other’s beliefs. Oh, I’ll still argue about religious themes, I’m sure. I’ll still argue with Christians about Christian doctrines as the topics arise. I’m not putting my brain in park. But, I’ll be kinder and gentler. Really. In fact, I’m no longer going to refer to Jesus as “Jeebus” … out of respect. It’s just a little thing, but it’s a start.
I might even apologize to Edwitness for giving him shit about always signing off with — Blessings ;>) That’s cuz David came to visit his Opa (grandpa) for 5 days. He would say “it’s a blessing” to everything, no matter who good or bad! lol
Hey, Ed! Blessings!!!
To put it simply,so justice may be served
I’m so sorry for your loss, and yes, you will see him again.
At least you knew he loved you. My father passed away a few years ago, finally achieving his life’s goal of drinking himself to death. He never had a kind word for me.
Let’s not start shitting on dads. If only men were not slaves to their sex drive the way women are not. Then they engender a child and have to bust their ass to support said child plus mom and whoever else is on the dad gravy train. You think it’s easy but it’s not. Work and worry and time away from home build a wall between dads and the kids. The wall becomes a sort of comfort. While women want affectionate words, men want admiration.
Letter to Dad by KaD:
Gee, dad, you impregnated that awful bitch just so I could be born. Then people hated you for it, but I was born, thank you very much for not jacking off that night and dumping my genes in the bowl. Thank you for getting drunk enough to find mom barely doable. You were my hero from day one, even if you didn’t get the recognition you deserved on days 2 thru 30,000. You never told me you loved me, but you stuck around, lived on when others wished you dead. Because you loved me enough to stick around and give me the strength and confidence in life, that it wouldn’t end one day too early. Thank you, dad, for the genes you gave me, the brains, the gender – that was you who made me the person I am. Your thoughts echo in my mind, your instincts in my heart, your eyes are now my eyes. A lion never tells his cubs ‘I love you’ – he shows it just by hanging around.
PS, I will leave the light on for you, in case your spirit ever walks this way again.
Don’t listen to Coyote, the dumb fuck…You need no one.. you are a gem…KaD..I hope for a straight flush for you…
She’s mine, moran. I’ve come to love her more than you ever will. I finally gave up on YoBo https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSkpl9kHuInuY6pXUI0hh-AknafDm7hTGZrSFHn1ZsYXVo5CBke
Seriously, how old are you Wolfie? Kad isn’t stuck in the terlet. She is mad at her dad cause he beat her constantly and told her she’d never amount to nothing, not even a successful hooker. He used to get drunk and curse her mom and her. Then he’d sit drinking and mulling over the raw deal he got in life. He’d grab poor KaD by the hair and make her go get him a beer to chase his liquor with it. Poor KaD had it bad. She should have grown up to be a dyke. Instead, she grew up to hate everybody including herself. What a waste, a beautiful Cinderella crying about a stolen childhood. Meanwhile, ugly bitches roam the streets taking revenge on the men that hurt them.
Whatever….she’s still got that sexy “death to illegals” vibe cranking….
This place would be a snooze if we didn’t have YoBot, KaD, that insufferable YoBo acolyte -nutkit and a whole bunch of new morons barely dipping a toe in the water with idiotic comments. They even roused Admin out of hibernation. The most recent case being Icee the 7/11 clerk.
I beg your pardon… I’m a regular old time moron up to his waist in the water with idiotic comments… A little respect, please.
nice edit, moron
BTW, Yotee. Nutkit is the best you can do? Still have not figured it out hombre?
It’s a bit repellent to think of the full Monte alternative so I went with something that sounds like ‘tiny package’.
Haters gonna hate. But I admire KaD’s dad and Stucky’s dad.
Kind words not required when the gift you have is your dad.
Stucky, my condolences to you and your family. But even more than that, thank you for sharing this story.
You told the truth, with all it’s joy, and pain, and foibles. And for that sir, I say again, thank you.
Stucky,
What a wonderfully written memorial to your father. Well done.
Gryf
There isn’t much to say that adds to what you wrote. You made me cry….
Sorry for your loss.
You mention hope. I too have struggled with how illogical it is. Hope is what leads to the conjecture that is our existence. Will end though by saying what is blatantly obvious..
You are a Good Man sir! The World is a better place because you are here.
Stuck, just read this and I’m so sorry you lost your Dad. Best comfort I can give is I have the knowledge of a near-death experience and we all continue to be who we are, at least in the form of a “soul”. The aliens supposedly call us “containers” so maybe our Human bodies are “soul containers”. When I crossed over I popped out of my body and could register the thoughts of everyone there. Then I felt pulled upward and remember reaching a point out in space looking down on Earth. At that moment I was connected to whatever “GOD” or the conscience of the universe, and it was like being plugged into a network with answers to everything (way beyond the Internet, real truth).
I was drowning so luckily some of the life guards who had thrown me in the pool had fished me out. As I started breathing, I popped back into my body and hurt like hell for 6 weeks.
I’ve always liked this song and hope it helps you mend…..
Stucky, I am sorry for your loss. Please, have no regrets on the final curtain. You were, and still are, a good son. Concentrate on all that was good between you and your Dad, the love that you felt for him, and raise a stiff drink in his honor, while smiling and saluting a well-lived life. Maybe two or three. May you, your mother, sister and family share in your fond memories of an exceptional man.
Stucky,
What a touching piece of writing. My mother was born two years before your father in Berlin and came to the states after the war married to a GI. She’d been through hell. My dad left her and us three children when I was 5. I have mixed feelings about my dad. I understand perfectly why he felt the need to go, but I still can’t believe that he actually did it. She raised us on a minimum wage job and still managed to take us on a lot of amazing adventures. She was also very active in the local German club. I can’t begin to tell you what a very special lady she was. Funny, witty, huge circle of friends. My relationship with her was not always perfect, to say the least. We had some very fundamental disagreements about life. She always gave me advice and I always rejected it. It was just one of the ways I hurt her. She passed away nearly two years ago now. Your experience with your father’s death reminded me so much of what I went through with my mother in her last days. I know you have regrets, so do I. Lots of them. Lots of shame and lots of guilt. Some days I break down and cry. I do see her still all the time. She is constantly making appearances in my dreams while I sleep. At first some of them were disturbing, but lately they have all been very nice. It’s as if we finally understand each other and where we are coming from. We are finally at peace with each other again like when I was a child. I agree with you, this can’t possibly be all there is.
Westy, glad to see you here. Maybe one day you can post an article with a list of your favorite songs, maybe call it a TBP songlist or a 30 blocks of horror songlist. I still remember your interview whenever I hear Two Tickets to Paradise.
I did not realize how unpopular Westy is here. My bad.
Stuck,
A beautiful and eloquent tribute to your dad’s life. My deepest sympathies to you and your family.
You will see him again. I’m 65 and lost my dad in 1979 when he was 52 and died on the operating room table during open heart surgery. A day doesn’t go by since then that I don’t think of him or send a thought his way. I know he’s watching over me and am convinced he has worked “behind the scenes” these last 39 years helping me in my career as an illustrator.
Your dad will always be just a thought or sentiment away and will be watching over you too. Guiding you for however long you have left in this life.
We are eternal spiritual beings in temporary physical bodies. When it’s our time to return to our heavenly home we will be reunited with our loved ones.
Take comfort that he’ll always be around you and with you in spirit.
God bless you and yours.
Stuck, I’m feeling you today. You did what a good son does. Be proud of that. That is all there is to it. God bless you and the rest of your family
My father passed away almost 25 years ago. I lived so many of your thoughts & the regrets. Thank you for taking me back in time to remember the pain and hopelessness of the moment. And the joy of the knowledge we will be united in another world.
Peace be with you & yours. Thank you!
Stucky, a hard life can be a very fulfilling one. Your dad’s story is story of love, perseverance and faith in family. He knocked it out of the park based on what I read. You were there for much of his life, you know how much that matters. Of course there is more, we are energy and information and those can never be destroyed, we go on and I think we go to heaven and will be reunited with our loved ones again. Take heart his passing was not as difficult as his life. Have faith that you have not lost him forever.
Stucky,
Your recollections nearly mirror my own with the death of my father. I nearly broke down while reading about you fathers difficulty drinking water. I had to dip a straw in a cup to capture a few drops by holding my thumb over the end of it. He couldn’t get enough. It’s been nearly eight years since he left and I miss him still.
It gets easier but it will be with until it’s my turn to take the long nap.
God bless Stucky. You had a great father.
” I had to dip a straw in a cup to capture a few drops by holding my thumb over the end of it.”
My fellow traveler, that’s EXACTLY what I was doing.
Around the last hour he could hardly talk. So, he would just open his mouth in the shape of an “O” and wiggle his tongue back and forth. I kid you not … while doing this it reminded me of this, and it made me smile.
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Stucky, I’m so sorry to hear about your Dad. I don’t doubt that at the end that he knew that you loved him even if you didn’t say it.
Cells in our bodies are constantly being replaced and over the course of our lives most of the cells in our bodies are replaced many times. None of us are exactly what we were even from one second to the next, but we’re still us. So I wouldn’t worry about your Dad not being able to come back physically exactly as he was. He’s still your Dad and he’s still out there somewhere. Absolutely. Without a doubt.
I believe there is much more to our memories and what makes us us than can be saved in the brain. I believe that our consciousness and our memory is based outside the brain and, as complex as the brain is, the brain works as a receiver for the consciousness and the memories, not a datastore. Your Dad just has a broken receiver at the moment.
So so sorry Stuck. This life is not all there is. Prayers are with you and you are a good son. You should be proud of how you handled this last of your Dads life. Peace be with you and your family. All of us in this TBP family will be thinking of you as we go to sleep tonight and say our prayers to the Almighty. Godbless Stuck, we wish you peace of mind in your time of distress. Please stick around after processing this, we love you.
Storage…Yes..I keep thinking that my deceased Dad is in DDS (Dead Dad Storage) and that I can present a claim ticket when I pass away to break him out..Oh, the fun we shall have……QT…
Thank you for sharing this with us. You have my sincerest condolences and I will pray for you and your family in a few minutes.
I know, without a doubt, that there is life after we abandon our earthsuits. The brain is a phenomenal creation, able to contain and direct energy in ways we don’t even pretend to understand yet, it connects us to our earthsuits so we can see and hear and experience life on this planet.
Stucky. You might think that you failed. You did not fail. There is no greater gift than that of being allowed to die in your own home and you and your family gave him that gift. Everything that you did was great and you can be proud that his example of how to live a life is what guided you and your family to do the tough job of making death tolerable for him. You can only hope that others are so kind to you when it is your time. Many are not so lucky as to have people they care for around them to give them comfort at the end.
He would not have wanted you to feel pain at his passing. Proclaim the joy of his life and remember the example that he set before you.
Sorry, Stuck. My dad died over ten years ago. I don’t believe he just ceased to exist. He had a long period of what we call redemptive suffering. Col 1:24.
Hope you keep getting along with your crazy Schwester. I’ll pray for you and your boy, too.
Stucky, I’m sorry for the loss of your father. I had tears streaming down my face I read of your sadness and hope. I think it’s beautiful that you wanted to document your memories. Your dad sounded like a great man.
I’ll be praying for you.
Sorry for your troubles, Stucky. From what I can tell, your father lived a man’s life, bore his troubles bravely, and acquitted himself well. Would to God someone may say that about any of us. You will undoubtedly will be plagued by thoughts of what you should have done, said, etc. Ignore these thoughts. You were there for him at the end, he knew it, and that is all that counts.
Have been wondering where you have been, lately I haven’t seen your cutting edge commentary …. I understand now.
My heart is with you as you absorb the reality and the beauty of your fathers life, as all the details come back; it seems almost too much to process.
As things settle down, you have the best takeaway, that this is not the end and there will be eternity to re experience your father and be able to tell him everything in your heart that you could not, because things got so busy.
This is the joy of resurrection.
Grieve, remember, love and testify. Be well my friend.
Sorry for your loss.
Stucky,
I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.
I am 65 and lost my dad over forty years ago. I think of him every day and he lives in my memory.
And so many memories. As with all of us, some good, some bad.
My dad was also a good and decent man. And a very funny one too. I get my sense of humor from him. It’s a gift that has lasted me a lifetime and gotten me through so many tough times of my own. Thanks dad.
You experienced the tough times of knowing your dad’s time was coming to an end. Some memories of that will comfort you. Some will haunt you, but you were there when it counted. Take comfort in that knowledge.
“…I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel…” — Maya Angelou
Without having to say the words, you made your dad ‘feel’ loved by his son. What could be better than that?
Don’t let anyone tell you how long to grieve. Take whatever time you need. You will know when it’s time to step back from it and move on.
There is an old axiom that says that when you are born, you are born crying while the whole world rejoices at your arrival, and that you should live your life in such a way that when you die, you rejoice while the whole world cries at your departure…
Life is short. Hug those close to you every day…
My sincere condolences for your loss.
I started to read this in the dark. By the time I got to the end the room was filled with this golden glow even though the Sun hadn’t come up yet and it seemed fitting- the light, the energy is always there even in the darkest moments waiting to makes itself manifest in our lives. I hadn’t even paused to take a sip of my first cup of coffee and the tears were just streaming down my face because I was where you are now and it brought back all the memories, every tucked away regret and sadness, but all the joys and forgotten moments of pure bliss as well; in having been someone’s child, being loved and cared for and then being sent out into the world with the hope to start it the cycle all over again. That was just a deeply moving and beautiful tribute and judging by the heartfelt comments that followed, I don’t know if you could have shared it with a more receptive audience anywhere.
I just returned from NJ and the funeral of my Uncle where I was his pallbearer and so I am still in my own small world of grief and this was just what I needed to get out of my own head. I worked myself into exhaustion yesterday and silence as well but today I think it will be a different day and I give you credit for that. I don’t know if thanks are enough, but I send them your way…
And you are the spitting image of your Father.
HF
Truly, a thanks from you is worth more than gold to me. You’re one of my heroes here.
Here’s one of the VERY COOL aspects of writing this story here;
My parents both decided they wanted a no-frills cremation. So, they got what they wanted. But, I think mom regretted that afterwards. And I know my sister hated it.
But, here’s the thing. I’m printing off this article and showing it to mom. Tomorrow I’ll print off all the comments and show them also. And I’ll tell them both — about 10,000 people read this article on The Burning Platform! Dad just got the biggest Memorial Service imaginable!
You have been writing your dad’s memorial since I don’t know how long, I took to calling him Opa. Absolutely everything you wrote circled back to something he taught you, something he said, something he enjoyed or cursed at. We also know your momma this way and your seester too. And Mrs Freud, how is the dear woman? So, yeah, we all gathered here to pay our respects to a great man, Opa. His loss is our loss too. Thank you for taking such good care of him and your mom. That’s definitely a blessing!
EC
Stucky, your eloquent testimony to your father is testimony to you. Thank you, I have never written about my father’s passing. My thoughts about him are recalled with words of your dad. And with the recent passing of my son. Wallace Stevens has a line about death that haunts me when my thoughts go there. It is hard to agree with it at first, however with time I find comfort in these words.
“Death is the mother of beauty”
Would it inappropriate for you to tell us if your father had a favorite beer? Something I might find in a good beer bar? I would very much like to have one for him before I go to the big sleep.
Genieße das Leben ständig! Du bist länger tot als lebendig!
“Would it inappropriate for you to tell us if your father had a favorite beer?”
HA! No it would not be inappropriate. In fact, I am absolutely delighted you brought it up. You see … right after dad and I talked about the “umbrella” incident above, and I was thinking what else I could talk to dad about that he like, I asked — and I swear on my son’s life — “So, dad, what was your favorite German beer?” !!! I had already forgotten that! See, that’s why writing about life’s big events, whether for public consumption or privately, is so very beneficial.
Anyway …. he went on for a good uninterrupted 10 minutes!! I’ll give you the Readers Digest version;
— when we first arrived to the USA dad had no idea he could buy German Beer at a liquor store. Plus we didn’t have a car. So, he bought American Beer at the local supermarket for about the first six months.
—– he alternated between Ballantine (sp?)and Rheingold (sp?). Said both tasted like shit … but sheisse beer is better than no beer.
— he basically had 3 favorites for the next 60 years
—— St. Pauli Girl
—— DAB
—— Wachsteiner, for the past decade
He also gave me the same identical lecture #4,385 about German Purity Laws. I pretended I never heard it before. lol
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I am sorry to hear about the loss of your son. That’s even worse than losing a parent, I think. Children should bury parents, not the other way around. It’s one reason, the main reason, I so hate all our F()*#&%^(!! never ending wars. I’d like wars better if it was the old politicians who were sent to the front line to die.
? about Papa’s faves.
St. Pauli I’ve known.
The other 2…
I now have a couple of unknowns to go discover and sample.
Thx. for sharing these reco’s.
Can’t doubt an Austrian about his opinions on good German suds now, can we.
When I find them, I’ll toast to both you and him, in salute.
Cheers!
I have no words. Please spend your time remembering a great man, not beating yourself up for things you imagined you could have done better.
I lost my Dad (56) and my brother (29), they are always with me. When life reduces me to tears they strengthen and comfort me.
Your father will dwell forever in your heart and will ‘touch’ you again in ways that are now unknown to you. Thank you for your touch, when I am able, I will hoist a fine German brew in honor of a fine German man.
WHAT CANNOT BE REMEDIED MUST BE ENDURED. I am very familiar with what you were feeling watching your Dad pass away. Mom has pulmonary fibrosis and fights for every breath she takes. Like an invisible python, something invisible slowly fights her ability to take a breath. Horrifying. She doesn’t deserve this – never smoked, drank, did drugs or did anything dishonest.
But there it is – no one knows how they will die. Some are quick, others take too long to occur.
We’ve said what we wanted to say. She told us her funeral wishes, what she wanted. We’ve talked about our lives, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying.
Ok, but what did his sister and husband go do in the back room that he can’t mention but won’t soon forget?!
Hi buddy.
My condolences.
Many similarities…my Pop was born in ’25, and was a painter by trade as well.
When you least expect it, you’ll notice something that reminds you of him.
…A funny memory of you and him laughing together…those come out of the blue.
Or, you’ll notice an elderly gentleman that looks like him, or has the same mannerisms.
When it happens, smile, and enjoy the good vibe it brings.
Always remember the laughs & love.
Keep a good picture of him close by.
Nobody is sure what’s “on the other side”, so this is a personal belief that varies from person to person, but, I suspect there will be some kind of re-connection, when we pass, with all those who have gone before us, that we miss dearly while we are still here. A mystery here, but amazing there.
When time allows, research the story of the waterbug / dragonfly.
You’ll understand why, if you find a good version of it. Sorry I can’t supply a link right now.
In closing,
May peace be with you, now, and from this day forward, brother.
If music vids about loss are still allowed, I humbly submit this one to you, friend.
Stucky,
Thanks for the heartfelt words during your time of loss. I personally take solace in the first law of thermodynamics, also known as Law of Conservation of Energy, which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; energy can only be transferred or changed from one form to another. (Only a true geek can merge faith and science.)
I read your father’s obituary twice, in honor to him and those he left behind.
Sorry to hear about your dad’s passing. Hang in there Stucky !
Stuck, I’m so sorry for your loss. Your tribute was so beautifully and lovingly written, thank you for sharing. You are in our thoughts and prayers. ?
Think Kind of Me
October 2012 Robert Bronsdon
These wisps of smoke and spiders web
No longer bind me here
But do not weep for the loss of me
For I’m not worth the tear
My star is not so high upon
That firmament of dreams
There is no claim that I can make
As payment for my schemes
For some the lure of this green place
Does quickly break its hold
That task was not the one for me
I could not be so bold
I tried so hard my truth laid bare
I struggled to be free
I sowed my seeds of thoughts and deeds
That you think kind of me
I’m truly sorry for your loss, Stuck .
You’ve managed to capture in words the pain that so many of us haven’t the ability or courage to articulate and I thank you for that.
Peace.
flash
Thanks for taking the time, and more importantly, having the cajones, to write & publish something so personal. People who have not cared for an elderly/dying loved one don’t truly understand how difficult & rewarding it can be.
I personally couldn’t ever fully get down with the whole Christian resurrection thing. I have no certain theological answers on the meaning of life, but it makes most sense to me to keep the Heathen ways of old & honor the heroes, ancestors, & forefathers of our people every chance we get.
Hail Victor!
That was a beautiful tribute, Stuck. If you haven’t already, forgive your old man for any wrongs he might have done. After that forgive yourself. He was a good father, and you a good son. BTW, you didn’t have to tell him that you loved him; he knew. Peace, brother.
Stucky,
You were a good son Nicky. I read your written word twice, and cried twice. You are a Noble person.
Damn you Stucky for making me cry.
And thank you.
Sometime, if you wonder if you just saw your dad out of the corner of your eye, as you absently go about daily chores, or just meandering around the house, rest assured that you did. He is with you, and your mom, and your entire family now. Watching, protecting, loving, like he always did.
You will indeed see him again.
Thank you to each and every one, — and also to those who might post after this comment, — for so many heartfelt and touching comments! I tell you the truth, you have also brought tears to my eyes … and soooo much encouragement. My debt of gratitude is deeper than you know.
I apologize for not responding sooner, and for the lack of responses coming. I’m on the way to the funeral home to pickup dad’s ashes. It was his wish to be cremated, and for his remains to be in his home. The library is just a block away, so I decided to stop in. Glad I did! My tablet at home simply stopped working a few days ago — won’t recognize any WiFi connection — so I won’t have access until I find the time to go to Verizon.
Again, many many thank you’s.