In Memory Of...
- Thread starter thestrangequark
- Start date
Loving the pictures and the stories.
I'm just going to mention one person right now. He was more of a grandparent to me than my biological grandparents. Basically what happened is right before my sister was born, my parents put an ad in the paper for a babysitter/nanny. They already had one son, another kid on the way, and they were busy doctors. Well the most amazing woman came into our life (we call her Grammy) and with her, her husband.
He had an awesome personality. Always joking around. We'd play card games and he'd cheat just so we could catch him cheating and make a big deal out of it. At their house there was a linen bag in the pantry and he always kept it stocked with three of something ... candy, small toys, whatever. Whenever we went to their house my sister would run and check that. He built an amazing playhouse in the basement of our first house, and a little playground in the backyard of our second house. He would tell us scary stories, he showed me how to fold a burrito, just silly little things that will stay with me forever.
He unfortunately passed away when I was fifteen and it was a really rough year for me. I still think about him all the time and miss him a lot.
I'm just going to mention one person right now. He was more of a grandparent to me than my biological grandparents. Basically what happened is right before my sister was born, my parents put an ad in the paper for a babysitter/nanny. They already had one son, another kid on the way, and they were busy doctors. Well the most amazing woman came into our life (we call her Grammy) and with her, her husband.
He had an awesome personality. Always joking around. We'd play card games and he'd cheat just so we could catch him cheating and make a big deal out of it. At their house there was a linen bag in the pantry and he always kept it stocked with three of something ... candy, small toys, whatever. Whenever we went to their house my sister would run and check that. He built an amazing playhouse in the basement of our first house, and a little playground in the backyard of our second house. He would tell us scary stories, he showed me how to fold a burrito, just silly little things that will stay with me forever.
He unfortunately passed away when I was fifteen and it was a really rough year for me. I still think about him all the time and miss him a lot.
My Dad died five years ago. His doctor found something unusual and wanted to monitor it, to see him again in six months. Six WEEKS later, Dad was gone. We assume, but don't know, that a biopsy pierced a small cancerous growth, allowing the cancer to grow and spread as he bled internally. I don't know if this is hooey since I'm not an oncologist.
Not knowing that he was dying--who thinks that?--I was impatient with him on the phone. I regretted that so much and held it inside for five years. Hubby finally had me talk about things when I just started falling apart emotionally and this came out. All my guilt. I still feel guilty but I'm not letting it eat me up as much.
Sorry, I couldn't see the screen for a minute there. Had to dry my eyes.
Anyway, Dad was a true gentleman. Everyone who knew him, upon hearing of his death said that exact word, "He was always such a gentleman."
I miss him terribly. No one understood me as well as Dad.
Gotta go. Now I'm crying.
Not knowing that he was dying--who thinks that?--I was impatient with him on the phone. I regretted that so much and held it inside for five years. Hubby finally had me talk about things when I just started falling apart emotionally and this came out. All my guilt. I still feel guilty but I'm not letting it eat me up as much.
Sorry, I couldn't see the screen for a minute there. Had to dry my eyes.
Anyway, Dad was a true gentleman. Everyone who knew him, upon hearing of his death said that exact word, "He was always such a gentleman."
I miss him terribly. No one understood me as well as Dad.
Gotta go. Now I'm crying.
{{{{{{Propita}}}}}} don't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing (after all, not even the doc knew) and everyone gets impatient with their parents now and then (and vice versa) - it's part of being a family. The important point is that you loved each other in spite of being impatient or annoyed at times.
Especially with your dad being a gentleman (a species of male on the brink of extinction in my experience), he wouldn't want you to feel guilty. What he would want for you is that you are happy and spread joy. He understood how you felt when you spoke on the phone with him and you surely didn't disappoint him then. Don't do it now.
Especially with your dad being a gentleman (a species of male on the brink of extinction in my experience), he wouldn't want you to feel guilty. What he would want for you is that you are happy and spread joy. He understood how you felt when you spoke on the phone with him and you surely didn't disappoint him then. Don't do it now.
Wonderful thread. Thank you, TSQ.
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.
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.
Seven years ago this month, my older sister Amy died of heart disease. She was a beautiful, young woman with strawberry blonde red hair who everybody loved and could make you laugh.
Unfortunately, my mother took her death hard, her health declined, and six months later, died. It was like she died of a broken heart, like Padme in Revenge of the Sith. I just hope that they're together somewhere.
Unfortunately, my mother took her death hard, her health declined, and six months later, died. It was like she died of a broken heart, like Padme in Revenge of the Sith. I just hope that they're together somewhere.
doubleohfive
Fleet Admiral
Wow, in retrospect, this thread has made me realize it's been a tough couple of years for me in this department.
The first real major death in our family that I remember is my Aunt Marie. She was my dad's cousin, and sister of my Amou George (who I was named after.) Marie had suffered through a brutal case of breast cancer. I remember vividly the Friday morning when we got the call in 1991 that the cancer had finally won. She left behind two lovely daughters, my cousins, and their father. I don't think my Amou George ever really got over it, as their father had passed away when they were both very young, and about ten years after Marie died, their mother, (my great aunt) died also, leaving George the only one left from his immediate family. Here's a picture of George and Marie, shortly before her death when they came to visit us in Virginia:
In 2008, I lost two friends. The first, my mentor, friend, colleague and just an all-around good person, Anh-Thi Phan-Winkler, lost her battle with colon cancer. She'd been fighting it for roughly four years or so and left behind a beautiful son and a loyal husband who stood by her side through everything. She was only a few weeks older than me and we lost her at the too young age of 28, just weeks after her birthday. Here's a picture of her, with her son Christian.
In December of that year, another old friend from college, Tom Brown, was killed in action in Iraq. He and I had worked together in the admissions office when we were undergrads and he always had a kind comment or cheerful disposition whenever I saw him. When he graduated, he had originally joined the local police force but eventually found his way in to the Army. Even though I only knew him casually at work, we had some great times in that office and I think of him often. After I found out about his passing, I scrounged up an old video I'd shot with him and another friend during our admissions office days, which you can see here
Not long after that, I found out about another friend - Travis Hammond - who had passed away as well. He was 30 I think, and if I remember correctly, he died from complications of diabetes. Travis was a year ahead of me in high school. I'll never forget the first time I met him - on the blacktop parking lot at the school, on a hot August evening in Virginia as my friend Steve and I, nervous freshman and new to the band, were learning our marching steps for our marching band show. Unlike most of the other upperclassmen, Travis looked out for us that week. He might have laughed when the others did, but it was always more of a "ok, nice now here's how you REALLY wanna do it" kind of thing. He was also a law enforcement officer at the time of his death, and had just been admitted in to the FBI training school. He left behind a widow and adorable little son. Here's a pic of Travis:
In March 2010, you might remember me posting about my friend Katie. She passed away while traveling abroad from a complication from a car accident that led to an aneurysm. She went to bed with a headache and never woke up. She was 24. I think about her the most honestly. She was so bright and willful, happy (despite having a traumatic life) and just about the friendliest, most charming people I'd ever known. Here's one of my favorite photos of her:
My maternal grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. I haven't really told anyone about it mainly because I hadn't seen her in several years. She had been living in a retirement home and I know there had been some bad blood between grandma and my mom. Grandma was not an easy person to like or get along with and while she had her faults, she was always nice to me, even if she couldn't replicate that same behavior toward others (like my brother.) Still, I feel more guilty about not feeling bad about her passing than anything else. I worry more for my mom who might not have had the chance to try to resolve any of the issues they had developed over the years.
Lastly, just a few weeks ago I was perusing Facebook when a friend posted an old photo from our junior high days. I was surprised to find several old friends there, and greatly saddened to learn that one, Abby Burroughs, had also passed away several years ago, thanks to cancer. After some quick Google-fu, I found that Abby, her parents and family had set up the Abigail Alliance for Better Access to Developmental Drugs.
I'm sorry to say that I lost track of Abby after we went to our respective high schools and I didn't see her much after our 8th grade graduation. But I remember passing notes with her in science class and sitting with her at lunch in the cafeteria. She died on June 9, 2001 at the age of 21.
This is a video of her father promoting the cause the Abigail Alliance is championing:
[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XGx_ZWYT_8&feature=relmfu[/yt]
The first real major death in our family that I remember is my Aunt Marie. She was my dad's cousin, and sister of my Amou George (who I was named after.) Marie had suffered through a brutal case of breast cancer. I remember vividly the Friday morning when we got the call in 1991 that the cancer had finally won. She left behind two lovely daughters, my cousins, and their father. I don't think my Amou George ever really got over it, as their father had passed away when they were both very young, and about ten years after Marie died, their mother, (my great aunt) died also, leaving George the only one left from his immediate family. Here's a picture of George and Marie, shortly before her death when they came to visit us in Virginia:
In 2008, I lost two friends. The first, my mentor, friend, colleague and just an all-around good person, Anh-Thi Phan-Winkler, lost her battle with colon cancer. She'd been fighting it for roughly four years or so and left behind a beautiful son and a loyal husband who stood by her side through everything. She was only a few weeks older than me and we lost her at the too young age of 28, just weeks after her birthday. Here's a picture of her, with her son Christian.
In December of that year, another old friend from college, Tom Brown, was killed in action in Iraq. He and I had worked together in the admissions office when we were undergrads and he always had a kind comment or cheerful disposition whenever I saw him. When he graduated, he had originally joined the local police force but eventually found his way in to the Army. Even though I only knew him casually at work, we had some great times in that office and I think of him often. After I found out about his passing, I scrounged up an old video I'd shot with him and another friend during our admissions office days, which you can see here
Not long after that, I found out about another friend - Travis Hammond - who had passed away as well. He was 30 I think, and if I remember correctly, he died from complications of diabetes. Travis was a year ahead of me in high school. I'll never forget the first time I met him - on the blacktop parking lot at the school, on a hot August evening in Virginia as my friend Steve and I, nervous freshman and new to the band, were learning our marching steps for our marching band show. Unlike most of the other upperclassmen, Travis looked out for us that week. He might have laughed when the others did, but it was always more of a "ok, nice now here's how you REALLY wanna do it" kind of thing. He was also a law enforcement officer at the time of his death, and had just been admitted in to the FBI training school. He left behind a widow and adorable little son. Here's a pic of Travis:
In March 2010, you might remember me posting about my friend Katie. She passed away while traveling abroad from a complication from a car accident that led to an aneurysm. She went to bed with a headache and never woke up. She was 24. I think about her the most honestly. She was so bright and willful, happy (despite having a traumatic life) and just about the friendliest, most charming people I'd ever known. Here's one of my favorite photos of her:
My maternal grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. I haven't really told anyone about it mainly because I hadn't seen her in several years. She had been living in a retirement home and I know there had been some bad blood between grandma and my mom. Grandma was not an easy person to like or get along with and while she had her faults, she was always nice to me, even if she couldn't replicate that same behavior toward others (like my brother.) Still, I feel more guilty about not feeling bad about her passing than anything else. I worry more for my mom who might not have had the chance to try to resolve any of the issues they had developed over the years.
Lastly, just a few weeks ago I was perusing Facebook when a friend posted an old photo from our junior high days. I was surprised to find several old friends there, and greatly saddened to learn that one, Abby Burroughs, had also passed away several years ago, thanks to cancer. After some quick Google-fu, I found that Abby, her parents and family had set up the Abigail Alliance for Better Access to Developmental Drugs.
I'm sorry to say that I lost track of Abby after we went to our respective high schools and I didn't see her much after our 8th grade graduation. But I remember passing notes with her in science class and sitting with her at lunch in the cafeteria. She died on June 9, 2001 at the age of 21.
This is a video of her father promoting the cause the Abigail Alliance is championing:
[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XGx_ZWYT_8&feature=relmfu[/yt]
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.
http://www.trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=78010
Best wishes and positive thoughts for everyone in this thread.
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.php?t=130585&highlight=Mallory
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.php?t=130585&highlight=Mallory
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.
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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.
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.
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
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
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^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.
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.
Good grief, has it been two years?
Where does the time go?
Mallory was a great guy.
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.
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.
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.
[yt]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Deu6u8nyhTc[/yt]
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.
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