Without getting in to specifics, I've either read or heard a few things that got me thinking.
As many know, last year I lost my dad and brother. We all get to the point when family members die. It's to be expected. That doesn't mean it isn't sad, nor do I mean to diminish the loss . . . it's a part of life. The end of life.
My wife was just at a funeral. A co-worker of hers husband passed away. But, unlike the expected passing of those who are old or have become weak and sick, this husband was about 30 years old. The couple were married just this past April and were about to leave on their honeymoon to Ireland. They also wanted to start a family right away. Right before leaving for Chicago on business, the husband got sick. It wasn't much. In fact he went on the business trip and upon returning went to the doctor. Several tests later and it turned out he had a clot in his liver. No big deal. They caught it early. Some treatment with blood thinners and all should be well. But, it wasn't. So, in the hospital he goes to undergo surgery to clear the blockage.
He never woke up.
Just like that.
That's sad. Brutal. Tragic. No words can convey how one feels at a time like this. You often read about these kinds of things in the paper. It really hits hard when it's so close to home. I think back to when I had a clot in each lung after my ankle surgery. Was I lucky?
I started this blog not that long ago. I did so after reading a number of other blogs. Mostly conservative leaning blogs, but some that were more personal in content. I thought it a good way to vent and share my thoughts, as well as read news from a different source other than a newspaper.
As a result, I came to know many of these bloggers at Drinking Right, a monthly get together at Papa's Social Club. There we drink, eat pizza, and often discus everything but politics. The people I've met have become very good friends. We've taken in quite a few other activities together . . . the airshows, Hooters, and this weekend, one of their weddings. And that's just my participation. Others get together for a variety of reasons. Getting out to meet these folks has truly been one of the better things I've done lately.
Well, blogging led to Twitter. I've yet to attend a "tweet up", but intend to. Already I've made another batch of friends. Some of them I know from the blogs. But, others are new to me. It's been a lot of fun.
Then, there's Facebook. As a result of facebook, I've connected with a few friends from high school, other "new" friends, and three people from the neighborhood I grew up in . . . 30 some years ago!
You might be wondering . . . first death talk and then social networking?
Life can take an immediate turn down a one way street at a moments notice. Fact is, we have little control over certain aspects of our lives. The other fact is that there is no undo. No do overs. No rewind. No take backs. We live as a consequence of the decisions and choices we make. We only control the choices we make.
Should I be fortunate enough to reach my mid 80's, I'd like to be able to sit back and reflect on my life and, above all else, be content. Certainly, be happy. But, be content knowing that I made the most of my life. But, not because I travelled a lot, not because I felt more knowledgeable than other people, not because I made more money than other people, or have more than other people, not because I felt more talented than other people, and not because I feel as though I accomplished more than other people. I want to be content knowing I spent as much time as I could with my family . . . and my friends. I want to be content knowing that I was a good husband, a good father, and a good friend to the people I've known. I want to be content knowing that I was thought of as a good person. A fun person. A nice person. And remembered as such when I die.
What the blogs, Twitter, and Facebook have all done is added to the humility I already feel. To know that people actively searched me and took time to send a note . . . is incredibly thoughtful. To think that I've stuck in the memory of someone for so many years. It's nice. It's a nice feeling. It's my desire to do the same for others.
That, to me, is what life is all about.
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
My dad went to the great longhouse in the sky
My dad developed Parkinson's some time back. Maybe 15 years ago. Like many, he did the best he could with it. He was already retired so that helped him get the most out of treatments. Of course, it is a progressive disease and he would get worse. 12 years ago my parents and brother joined my sister in Arizona. The move was bittersweet. The winter's here were tough on them so I was happy for them, but I was also saying good bye to having them around.
As many of you know, my wife and I came late in the baby game. I was 42, she was 36 when our daughter was born. About a month before my daughter's birth, in January, my dad went to McDonald's and never came back. He had suffered a stroke. He was treated and released but was never the same after that. He would fall, forget things, he couldn't drive anymore. He had another stroke that put him in a hospital for good. He had bleeding on the brain that required surgery. A nursing home would become his new residence. All this in just a couple of weeks.
He was partly there when we came with our new baby a couple of months later. He held her and seemed happy. But the moments were fleeting. After that, it wouldn't take long for him to deteriorate and become rather demented at times, and catatonic other times.
The past several years have been the hardest. He needed constant care, couldn't walk, talk, or use his hands. No one is quite sure just what he was able to comprehend, or what brain activity there was. Whatever the case, he was not the same person he was some years ago. He was brain dead, but the strokes left him very brain damaged. It's been particularly tough on my mom and she's had to witness this first hand.
Well, his body finally gave up. The other day they stopped feeding him as he was choking. Between my mom and the facility, the decision was made not to place a feeding tube. It didn't take long. Maybe a day. He passed quietly in his sleep.
My dad was born to two Oneida indians on the reservation. He was raised poor and suffered some discrimination. As he grew he knew the only way to "make it" was to get off the reservation and get an education. He left the reservation to attend UWM. He met my mom in the Florentine Opera Company. He played clarinet in the Green Bay Packer Marching Band. Three kids would soon ensue. A daughter first, a son who would be mentally retarded, then me.
I don't speak highly of my dad very often as there's little in the way of fond memories to pull from. He was a proud man, dedicated, hard working, patient . . . he did his best as a husband and as a father. While I have very little to pull from in terms of happy or fond memories I have no doubt he loved his kids and did the best he was able. I'm like him in that I'm also very patient, dedicated, and a hard worker. But, my pride isn't fed by my heritage or by my commitment to duty. Being a good husband makes me proud. Being a good daddy makes me proud. The things that were a priority in his life is certainly different from mine. He took on the strict role as provider. I am a provider, but also a husband, a daddy, and many other things that I want defined as me. It is a top priority for me to make life long memories for me, my wife, and my daughter to savour, and to make everyday happy and fun.
I think my father looked at his life as a means to an end. Work hard, make the sacrifices, be dutiful, and your day will come. He lived life that way exactly. It was very neatly planned out. He worked toward the goal of having a job with the city so he could reap the benefits and retire with a pension. You have to respect that.
What he didn't do is stop more often to smell the roses. Or at least appreciate what else life had to offer. I can't help but think his life was unfulfilled in many ways. But it really isn't for me to say. While I appreciate how hard he worked to make a life for his family, I wish there would have been family vacations, traditions of our own, time with just dad and son.
Yes, I'm sad that he died. He is my father, after all. But I'm also content knowing that he fought to live as long as he did. His iron will prevailed right to his final breath.
Rest in peace, dad. You deserve it. I love you.
As many of you know, my wife and I came late in the baby game. I was 42, she was 36 when our daughter was born. About a month before my daughter's birth, in January, my dad went to McDonald's and never came back. He had suffered a stroke. He was treated and released but was never the same after that. He would fall, forget things, he couldn't drive anymore. He had another stroke that put him in a hospital for good. He had bleeding on the brain that required surgery. A nursing home would become his new residence. All this in just a couple of weeks.
He was partly there when we came with our new baby a couple of months later. He held her and seemed happy. But the moments were fleeting. After that, it wouldn't take long for him to deteriorate and become rather demented at times, and catatonic other times.
The past several years have been the hardest. He needed constant care, couldn't walk, talk, or use his hands. No one is quite sure just what he was able to comprehend, or what brain activity there was. Whatever the case, he was not the same person he was some years ago. He was brain dead, but the strokes left him very brain damaged. It's been particularly tough on my mom and she's had to witness this first hand.
Well, his body finally gave up. The other day they stopped feeding him as he was choking. Between my mom and the facility, the decision was made not to place a feeding tube. It didn't take long. Maybe a day. He passed quietly in his sleep.
My dad was born to two Oneida indians on the reservation. He was raised poor and suffered some discrimination. As he grew he knew the only way to "make it" was to get off the reservation and get an education. He left the reservation to attend UWM. He met my mom in the Florentine Opera Company. He played clarinet in the Green Bay Packer Marching Band. Three kids would soon ensue. A daughter first, a son who would be mentally retarded, then me.
I don't speak highly of my dad very often as there's little in the way of fond memories to pull from. He was a proud man, dedicated, hard working, patient . . . he did his best as a husband and as a father. While I have very little to pull from in terms of happy or fond memories I have no doubt he loved his kids and did the best he was able. I'm like him in that I'm also very patient, dedicated, and a hard worker. But, my pride isn't fed by my heritage or by my commitment to duty. Being a good husband makes me proud. Being a good daddy makes me proud. The things that were a priority in his life is certainly different from mine. He took on the strict role as provider. I am a provider, but also a husband, a daddy, and many other things that I want defined as me. It is a top priority for me to make life long memories for me, my wife, and my daughter to savour, and to make everyday happy and fun.
I think my father looked at his life as a means to an end. Work hard, make the sacrifices, be dutiful, and your day will come. He lived life that way exactly. It was very neatly planned out. He worked toward the goal of having a job with the city so he could reap the benefits and retire with a pension. You have to respect that.
What he didn't do is stop more often to smell the roses. Or at least appreciate what else life had to offer. I can't help but think his life was unfulfilled in many ways. But it really isn't for me to say. While I appreciate how hard he worked to make a life for his family, I wish there would have been family vacations, traditions of our own, time with just dad and son.
Yes, I'm sad that he died. He is my father, after all. But I'm also content knowing that he fought to live as long as he did. His iron will prevailed right to his final breath.
Rest in peace, dad. You deserve it. I love you.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
RIP
My wife's friend passed away the other morning. While not exactly "comfortable" in the late stages of cancer, she was at home with her family and passed away peacefully in her sleep. From the time of her diagnosis, she gained two years of life. One more than was thought she had. She made full use of it. She was a good wife, mother, and friend. She was 45 years old and her daughter is 14. Much too young, much too soon.
She will be missed.
She will be missed.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Death
Serious heading, I know. But, it's a serious topic.
I'm sure many of you have had a family member or close friend die. It's sad. It's very sad. First, it's the end of life's journey for that person. That's it. Game over. I think it's made all the worse when someone young dies. We expect people in their 80's and older to die. It's what happens. Old people have lived their life. They've made their contributions. There is no next step other than death. When you're 40 or 50 years old, there's a lot of life left.
At least, there should be.
The other thing about family and friends dying is that it hits close to home. It reminds us of our own mortality. The inevitability of death. I don't mind telling you, it's unsettling.
Which means the only thing worse than death itself, is knowing you're going to die.
A friend of my wife was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. The news was bad enough. It was made worse by the fact that it was an agressive and an already wide spread cancer. It was, in effect, a death sentance.
She fought it. She fought it as hard as anyone could. She also lived as much a she could. Spending time with her family, friends, and doing things she enjoyed. As for many, the cancer slowed. Her treatments allowed her time.
She called my wife the other day to inform her that hospice had been set up for her at home. The end is near. All that can and could be done has been done. The fight is over. Cancer won.
From here on she's to be made "comfortable". I can't imagine what that is.
So, what worse? Going to a funeral or visiting a friend who is dying?
It truly puts everything in to perspective. Of the many things I want to impress upon my daughter is the frailty of life and the finality of death. You get one chance. There's no undo, no rewind, no mulligans, no challenges, no do overs. Live life. Enjoy life. But don't tempt or tease or think you can cheat death.
I've had open heart surgery, an exploratoy biopsy (negative), emergency gall bladder surgery, and a blood clot in both lungs. I certainly know what the scare is about. True, in any of these situations, I could have died. But I wouldn't have known about it for very long . . . if at all. Knowing that there are no more options . . . no more hope . . . just death . . . would be terrifying.
So, this Christmas holiday count your blessings. Spend time with the ones you love, and cherish life. People like to say, "live today as though it were your last". I actually hate that. It has a finality to it. I prefer . . .
live today as though it were your first.
I'm sure many of you have had a family member or close friend die. It's sad. It's very sad. First, it's the end of life's journey for that person. That's it. Game over. I think it's made all the worse when someone young dies. We expect people in their 80's and older to die. It's what happens. Old people have lived their life. They've made their contributions. There is no next step other than death. When you're 40 or 50 years old, there's a lot of life left.
At least, there should be.
The other thing about family and friends dying is that it hits close to home. It reminds us of our own mortality. The inevitability of death. I don't mind telling you, it's unsettling.
Which means the only thing worse than death itself, is knowing you're going to die.
A friend of my wife was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. The news was bad enough. It was made worse by the fact that it was an agressive and an already wide spread cancer. It was, in effect, a death sentance.
She fought it. She fought it as hard as anyone could. She also lived as much a she could. Spending time with her family, friends, and doing things she enjoyed. As for many, the cancer slowed. Her treatments allowed her time.
She called my wife the other day to inform her that hospice had been set up for her at home. The end is near. All that can and could be done has been done. The fight is over. Cancer won.
From here on she's to be made "comfortable". I can't imagine what that is.
So, what worse? Going to a funeral or visiting a friend who is dying?
It truly puts everything in to perspective. Of the many things I want to impress upon my daughter is the frailty of life and the finality of death. You get one chance. There's no undo, no rewind, no mulligans, no challenges, no do overs. Live life. Enjoy life. But don't tempt or tease or think you can cheat death.
I've had open heart surgery, an exploratoy biopsy (negative), emergency gall bladder surgery, and a blood clot in both lungs. I certainly know what the scare is about. True, in any of these situations, I could have died. But I wouldn't have known about it for very long . . . if at all. Knowing that there are no more options . . . no more hope . . . just death . . . would be terrifying.
So, this Christmas holiday count your blessings. Spend time with the ones you love, and cherish life. People like to say, "live today as though it were your last". I actually hate that. It has a finality to it. I prefer . . .
live today as though it were your first.
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