In Memory Of...

[1001001]

My story is pretty well documented here:

http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=78010

Best wishes and positive thoughts for everyone in this thread.

[the 4th hanson bro]

December 28, 1998 my father in law lost a brief fight with brain cancer. 7 weeks from diagnosis to the end. He had his last Christmas at home surrounded by his family, which is what he wanted.

He was a big James Bond fan, after his surgery to try and remove the tumor he thought he was a secret agent with critical information to protect and deliver to the right people. Be told the cute ICU nurse that he was trained not to trust beautiful women and there was no way he was trusting her. He also insisted on calling his "control" officer to deliver his report, at about 4 am. He borrowed my cell phone and called a friend of his oldest daughter's who worked for the secret service.

We never told him about it because he would have been so embarrassed.

On February 11, 2000 we lost my dad to necrotizing fasciitis. Had never been sick, went to the hospital on Tuesday, was gone on Friday.

He was a true craftsman and mot proud of being a steel rule die cutter for folding paper boxes. He could take a description of a box, and with his pocketknife( which I now carry), a pen, and a ruler could whip up a sample in 15 minutes. Growing up on a farm, he learned to be self reliant and frugal. Mom wanted the furniture in the basement redone and she also wanted an ottoman. They went looking at ottomans and dad wasn't interested in paying that much for one so he got his pad out, flipped it over, saw how it was put together and went home to build one. It came back from the upholsterers the day after his funeral.

I think of how much fun I had with my grandfathers and it makes me sad that my kids won't have similar memories.

And it's been a little over two years since he's been gone, but if ever there was a man who fought with grace and dignity, it was Mallory. http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.ph...hlight=Mallory

[Gryffindorian]

OdoWanKenobi wrote:

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My dad died on November 30th of last year. He was 58. He had diabetes, and refused to take care of himself. Eventually, his kidneys started failing. When he went into the hospital for tests, it was discovered that his heart rate was 32. So, what was already a problem turned into a bigger one. Suddenly, he was a heart patient. He was rushed into surgery to have a stent put in. Two weeks after he returned home, he passed away some time in the night. My mother, who works nights, returned home to find him. She believes he passed peacefully. I will never tell her this, but from the position of his body, I don't think he went as peacefully as she believes. He was lying sideways on the bed, as if he was woken up in pain, and sat up. The "soft smile" she saw on his face was probably rigor mortis. I'll always remember that day. The image of his pale, lifeless body is burned into my mind. What's more, since I was the closest person in the family to home, I was notified before anyone else. It fell to me to tell my brothers the news. My youngest brother took it the hardest. Another thing will stay in my mind is hearing him break down into tears over the phone. I have hardly ever seen him cry.

As I approach the one year anniversary of the event, the emotions that I feel are still so conflicted. My father was not a good person. He was rude, he was closed-minded, he was lazy, he was a bigot. I never got along with him. I more than once likened him to a Dementor from Harry Potter. When he entered a room, all of the happiness in it was instantly sucked out. I have so few memories of the two of us spending any actual quality time together. Most of my memories are of our fights. I can't bring myself to hate him, though. He was still my father. As much as we fought, as much as he angered me, I still always tried to reach out to him. I'm not sure he really knew how to relate to people, though. He never showed much interest in who I was as a person. He belittled me for the things I loved, mostly because they were not the things that he loved. He had a very narrow view of what was valuable in the world, and anything or anyone that did not fit into that view was worthless to him. As cold as it sounds, I don't miss my father. When I think about him, I lament the fact that we never could be close, more than I lament the fact that he is no longer in my life.

Sorry. I wrote a lot there, and none of it very happy stuff. It just helps me to talk about it, and get it off my chest.

OdoWan Kenobi, I can sort of relate to you regarding the way you felt about your late father. The only difference is that my dad is very much alive, but there are times that I don't like him, or even resent him in some ways. Don't get me wrong. I love both of my parents, but my dad has always had a gruff personality that can be off-putting. He has said cruel things that were hurtful even to his own family. He can be ill-tempered, impatient, and closed-minded. He has a tendency to be critical toward others, especially my mom, for making a mistake or not meeting his expectations.

I've always viewed him as a generous and compassionate man, especially when I was growing up in another country. He helped many poor people in my town, and many looked up to him. We weren't rich per se, but as a US Navy veteran, his income provided well for his family, and we owe him a great debt for bringing us here to America.

He's not a bad person. I know he has a big heart, but a part of me sometimes can't stand to be in the same room with him. A lot of his negativity has to do with his own insecurities. If I could pick a few words to describe my dad, it would be ”flawed” and ”imperfect.” But as humans, we all are.

[macloudt]

My mother passed away on March 1, 2000. She'd had skin cancer, which came out of nowhere as she'd never been a sun worshiper, and the second mole that was removed was, and I quote "only where the doctor and the good Lord could easily see it". Even when the cancer spread to her brain and spine Mom kept her sense of humour. I was four months pregnant with my third child when she died, and it breaks my heart that Mom never got to see my youngest, and vice versa. She was 73 when she died, but she was still too young and had a lot of living left to do.

The only grandparent I remember well was my maternal grandmother. She was my youngest grandparent, and lived from 1899 'til 1990. I was 22 when she died. My mind boggles when I think of the world events she witnessed in her lifetime. Oma could be difficult, but she had a heart of gold and a wicked sense of humour. At the age of 90 she could have a room full of people in stitches with her one-liners.

[Rhubarbodendron]

keeping a sense of humour seems to be typical for victims of skin cancer. My aunt died of it, 2 years ago. When she was in hospital, she was very suddenly scheduled for a surgery first thing next morning. The day nurse had already gone home and so my aunt couldn't tell her that she wasn't allowed to breakfast the next day. In order to not forget it, she stuck a note to her bed: "please don't feed!"
When she was wheeled to the OP the next day, she forgot to take the note off the bed. The surgeon team had a good laugh when they saw it.


The whole staff of the oncological department came to her funeral and they all said they'd never had as much fun as during the months my aunt had been there.

When my aunt started her first chemo therapy, she lost a lot of weight, dressed very sporty and always wore a baseball cap to hide her bald head. She used to take a rather big duffle bag with her knitting, a towel, a few snacks etc. when she had a chemo session. The neighbours didn't know and assumed she'd go golfing. It amused my aunt very much and quickly became a family proverb: whenever one of us has to go to hospital, we say he/she is out golfing

[thestrangequark]

^My great grandmother had a good sense of humor up until the end too. She was 94 and had dementia, but she took me aside once and said, "All my life I've refrained from calling people shit-heads who were rightly shit-heads. Now I can say it whenever I want!" That very evening at dinner my grandmother was being somewhat obnoxious to the waiter and my great-grandmother said, "Dorothy, stop being such a shit-head!"

Everyone who has shared, these have been wonderful stories. Kestra, I love the pictures you posted...you can just see the heart and character. doubleoh, I remember you posting about your friend, I'm so sorry this has been such a bad few years. It's so hard when someone goes so young. I think what makes me saddest when I think of my brother is when I wander off into imagining what he'd be like now, as an adult. There are so many years he missed out on.

I didn't mention it before, but I also had a sister who died. She was premature and died before I was born, so her death is much harder on my parents than on me. She was born on December 19th and died on December 21st, 1981. Since she was born so close to Christmas my mother named her Holly Noel, and I've been told she looked just like me but with bright red hair. I often wonder what she would have been like, and how I might be different if she had lived.

[1001001]

the 4th hanson bro wrote:

---

And it's been a little over two years since he's been gone, but if ever there was a man who fought with grace and dignity, it was Mallory. http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.ph...hlight=Mallory

Good grief, has it been two years?

Where does the time go?

Mallory was a great guy.

[cooleddie74]

Mallory's been gone two years now?

What a guy. His avatar will always remain one of my all-time favorites and he himself was nothing but an entertaining class act. It's still hard to believe he's no longer around.

[Emher]

thestrangequark wrote:

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I didn't mention it before, but I also had a sister who died. She was premature and died before I was born, so her death is much harder on my parents than on me. She was born on December 19th and died on December 21st, 1981. Since she was born so close to Christmas my mother named her Holly Noel, and I've been told she looked just like me but with bright red hair. I often wonder what she would have been like, and how I might be different if she had lived.

Not quite the same, but we could have been five siblings. My mother was pregnant a few years after my youngest sisters birth. But my mother miscarried. Or at least that's what we where told. later on we where told that she had an abortion since she didn't think we could handle another child in the family.

It was the right decision because we are a large family with lot of issues to start with, but it was not an easy decision for my parents. And I wonder some times how it would have been like being one more of us.


Also, I mentioned my dog Keiran dying earlier. This is the song I listened to while going home from work after I'd learned he was gone. I still think of him when I hear it. It's also a very beautiful song.

[cooleddie74]

I had an older sister who was a miscarriage in late 1973. I wish I had been able to grow up with her and have my big sister with me throughout my life because I think we would have been good for one another. My immediate family was such a tight-knit little band that looked out for one another that I could see my big sis and I having each other's backs in every little scrape that came along. I know I'd have gone out of my way to be there for my sister.

[RevDMV]

1001001 wrote:

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Good grief, has it been two years?

Where does the time go?

Mallory was a great guy.

I went to your thread and he posted just after your post about your sister passing. Strange that he has been gone now for awhile.

[Captain Ice]

First, I want to say that while I have been reading this thread from the start, it has been difficult for me to get to the point where I felt like writing something.

First of all, the timing of this thread is fortuitous for me, as the one year anniversary of my Dad's passing is coming up on Dec 2nd. While I am in a much better place than I was in 11 months ago, I am finding that, with the anniversary approaching, I am thinking of him more and more. I suppose that this is a natural thing, but it is not something that I was prepared for.

The last few years of Dad's life were not easy by any means. He averaged three hospital stays a year from 2006 onwards, and between the hospital stays and rehab facilities afterward, each stay ran about a month or so.

He maintained his rather....unique sense of humor up until almost the end. He'd crack a one liner or bad pun just to watch you groan. I was recently reminded also that he kept very much abreast of what was happening at his alma mater (and would pass their sports scores on to anyone interested).

And, lest I paint a rose colored picture of the man, he had his paults too. he could be extremely manipulative and self centered, especially with my mother. There was only one way of doing something, his way. It didn't matter if it was right or wrong or if there were 4,000 different ways of doing something. If it wasn't his way, it was wrong.

I'd like to share just one more quick little story. In 2008, he asked me to take him to his brother's third wedding. When he told me the name of the town, I agreed with one condition. There is a small, but well regarded railroad museum in this town with a rather unique fund-raising idea. For a set fee, they would rent you a locomotive, complete with the crew, and allow you to operate it with supervision. I told dad that if we went, we would have to spend a day at this museum and I would "rent" a locomotive.

Since Dad was restricted to a wheelchair, I set things up for myself to be the only one of us on the locomotive. On the morning after the wedding, we arrived at the museum a couple of hours before my appointed time in order to tour the facility. Since the facilities parking area is gravel, we had a difficult time maneuvering Dad's wheelchair up to the building. After we got to the building, I went back to the car for something. Meanwhile, one of the museum's volunteer's had seen Dad in the wheelchair, and brought a gof cart to him. She then proceeded to give us a guided tour of the museum. When the time came for me to board the locomotive, she called her husband over, and between the engineer, the tour guide, her husband, and myself we managed to get Dad onto the locomotive. Then we took a couple of pictures.

Afterward, when I had the pictures developed, I took four of the photos down and had them framed and matted for him for Christmas. when he opened them on Christmas day, my mother took one look at them and promptly told me that she had only seen that look on his face once....when the doctor had handed him my youngest brother in the delivery room.

[Minuet]

It's not exactly that I've lost someone (I've lost many people in my lifetime), but I am slowly losing someone, or rather two people, and it's very difficult. It's drawn out instead of all at once, and that is almost more difficult than a sudden death.

I have two grandmothers that I am very close with. One of them has end-stage emphysema and is very ill. I am worried she won't be around much longer. The other has Alzheimer's, which is almost worse in a way, because she is slowly turning into a complete stranger. I am so scared to call her, because there will come a day where she won't remember who I am, and that is so terrifying to me.

Ah, I'm trying not to dwell on this right now. Trying to focus on Trek.

[Balrog]

My sister Nancy (1963-2012) just passed after an 11-month battle with stage four lung cancer. Her diagnosis was a shock to our entire family. She never smoked a day in her life. She had been sick the previous three years, but the doctors missed the cancer in her lung. It was found in an x-ray in a chiropractor's office after my sister complained of her ribs hurting. The tumor had burst through her lung and had broken two of her ribs.

The cancer had already matasticized, and was in her liver, brain and hip. Despite all this, the doctors were cautiously optimistic. And after a couple of operations, radiation and chemotherapy, Nancy was beating it. But by February, the chemotherapy stopped working, and the cancer returned with a vengeance. By April, she was transferred to hospice, given two months. She passed away two weeks later surrounded by her family and my mom and dad.

I miss her dearly. She was my big sister, and always a part of my life. She was a wonderful violinist, teacher, Christian, wife and mother. And losing a sibling difficult, especially if your parents are still alive. Watching my folks dealing with this has been heartbreaking. It's as if they have aged 10 years overnight.

[Gryffindorian]

My mom also had a miscarriage in 1972 or '73, at least a year before I was born. They named the infant Carmela.