Below are a series of e-mails I had sent to a friend of mine, Lincoln Djang, just prior to and just after my dad's final internment. The third of the series was never sent. They show how anxiety and stress can shape your feelings. The first is bitter and selfish, the second is closer to the realization of closing the final chapter on my dad and the third, some what recovered and reflective. I'm glad I wrote these. Instead of crying or some other emotional conundrum, I had the benefit of a relief valve, a considerate friend. Maybe these notes will help someone else with a similar lose in the future.
April 1st 2010, 3 Days Before the Grave Side Service
Hey dude, its midnight in central NY and about 60 degrees. I'm sitting in the garage looking out on the street I grew up on after spending the day cleaning a bathroom that hasn't been scrubbed or painted since the 1973. I've also spent the better part of the day cleaning out my dads office (my old bedroom). What Discoveries I have made!!! My dad was a very simple guy, in fact he only had 5 pair of shorts and 5 sets of socks but he also had about 10 pairs of boots. Go figure?!?!? Anyway it's pretty much a downer cleaning up. My mom, bless her heart, has not looked at any of his stuff or has even been in his office since November, it's pretty much up to me I guess.
My derelict sister was supposed to show up tonight to help but I guess she has better things to do. I am really feeling pretty low. And to top it off I'm still waiting for the funeral director to let me know when we can bury the man. I'm hoping we can at least complete that before I fly back.
This 'shit' really sucks!!! But I guess its part of the circle.
MMJ
April 5th 2010, Morning of the Grave Side Service
Well I've finally gotten through most of this ordeal. After 4 days and a dozen full lawn and leaf bags, I have cleaned out my dad’s personal stuff (mostly paper; old magazines, hand written notes, etc...) and inventoried the remaining Porsche related stuff. The inventory will be used later for the local Porsche club, a silent auction or something. The remaining clothes (and 4 pair of NEW boots) will be dropped off at the 'salvation army'.
Will intern my dad today at 2:00 in Marathon NY. He'll be with his father and grandfather.
I got all the brakes working on my dads other car and got it running. It drives like a 70's vintage souped up VW; lots of noise, rattles and squeaks but no real go (or heat). However, it does have charm. I'll snap a picture before I leave.
Thanks for your thoughts.
MMJ
April 6th 2010, Day After the Grave Side Service
Well we got Marvin (my dad) in his final resting place yesterday. Small grave side service; mother, son, daughter, grandson, grandson. We had a Methodist Minister and a member of the local VFW. After a few short prayers reminding all that death is part of life and the flag was presented for Marvin’s service to his country, I personally breathed better. Closure!!
My mom, on the way home, felt she had left something behind; as she described it like her purse or a coat. I think, and can only hope, that this was her closure. I could only tell her that Marvin would not want her to feel bad, knowing deep down my dad handled death by getting on and not dwelling on the subject; pretty much to the point of denial. To him it (life) was gone, over, water under the bridge; get on with the rest of yours. To kind of put this in perspective, my dad never visited any grave site or cemetery that I can remember, even his own father's (Henry). If he had he may have discovered that when his dad died in 1964, that my grandfather’s wife at the time, 3rd wife Aggie, never bothered to have a head stone put on his grave. So my grandfather, that died 46 years ago, had no marker!!!! I think Marvin would have been upset if he knew but apparently not as upsetting as actually visiting.
That evening, my sister came over and we looked at slides of a father, mother, son and daughter from a past that was mostly forgotten. No longer the derelict that wouldn't help but the laughing innocent sister I once shared a life with. My mom picked out two or three she wanted prints of. They were of a young family, happy and blissfully naive. My sister went on and on about the flag and how it 'got to her'. Bless her hart, I hope she understands the meaning of military service and the price paid for freedom. Whether air control, engineer or dodging bullets on the front, the demands of that commitment, that discipline and those responsibilities to a higher calling, i.e. defending a nation, are life long and no matter how metaphorical, the flag and the final salute are a nations thank you for the sacrifice of service.
The next day, I finished cleaning out my dad’s personal effects and straightened out the little upstairs area for my next trip out.
It's not as difficult as one would think to close out a chapter of life nor should it be bitter.
MMJ
April 1st 2010, 3 Days Before the Grave Side Service
Hey dude, its midnight in central NY and about 60 degrees. I'm sitting in the garage looking out on the street I grew up on after spending the day cleaning a bathroom that hasn't been scrubbed or painted since the 1973. I've also spent the better part of the day cleaning out my dads office (my old bedroom). What Discoveries I have made!!! My dad was a very simple guy, in fact he only had 5 pair of shorts and 5 sets of socks but he also had about 10 pairs of boots. Go figure?!?!? Anyway it's pretty much a downer cleaning up. My mom, bless her heart, has not looked at any of his stuff or has even been in his office since November, it's pretty much up to me I guess.
My derelict sister was supposed to show up tonight to help but I guess she has better things to do. I am really feeling pretty low. And to top it off I'm still waiting for the funeral director to let me know when we can bury the man. I'm hoping we can at least complete that before I fly back.
This 'shit' really sucks!!! But I guess its part of the circle.
MMJ
April 5th 2010, Morning of the Grave Side Service
Well I've finally gotten through most of this ordeal. After 4 days and a dozen full lawn and leaf bags, I have cleaned out my dad’s personal stuff (mostly paper; old magazines, hand written notes, etc...) and inventoried the remaining Porsche related stuff. The inventory will be used later for the local Porsche club, a silent auction or something. The remaining clothes (and 4 pair of NEW boots) will be dropped off at the 'salvation army'.
Will intern my dad today at 2:00 in Marathon NY. He'll be with his father and grandfather.
I got all the brakes working on my dads other car and got it running. It drives like a 70's vintage souped up VW; lots of noise, rattles and squeaks but no real go (or heat). However, it does have charm. I'll snap a picture before I leave.
Thanks for your thoughts.
MMJ
April 6th 2010, Day After the Grave Side Service
Well we got Marvin (my dad) in his final resting place yesterday. Small grave side service; mother, son, daughter, grandson, grandson. We had a Methodist Minister and a member of the local VFW. After a few short prayers reminding all that death is part of life and the flag was presented for Marvin’s service to his country, I personally breathed better. Closure!!
My mom, on the way home, felt she had left something behind; as she described it like her purse or a coat. I think, and can only hope, that this was her closure. I could only tell her that Marvin would not want her to feel bad, knowing deep down my dad handled death by getting on and not dwelling on the subject; pretty much to the point of denial. To him it (life) was gone, over, water under the bridge; get on with the rest of yours. To kind of put this in perspective, my dad never visited any grave site or cemetery that I can remember, even his own father's (Henry). If he had he may have discovered that when his dad died in 1964, that my grandfather’s wife at the time, 3rd wife Aggie, never bothered to have a head stone put on his grave. So my grandfather, that died 46 years ago, had no marker!!!! I think Marvin would have been upset if he knew but apparently not as upsetting as actually visiting.
That evening, my sister came over and we looked at slides of a father, mother, son and daughter from a past that was mostly forgotten. No longer the derelict that wouldn't help but the laughing innocent sister I once shared a life with. My mom picked out two or three she wanted prints of. They were of a young family, happy and blissfully naive. My sister went on and on about the flag and how it 'got to her'. Bless her hart, I hope she understands the meaning of military service and the price paid for freedom. Whether air control, engineer or dodging bullets on the front, the demands of that commitment, that discipline and those responsibilities to a higher calling, i.e. defending a nation, are life long and no matter how metaphorical, the flag and the final salute are a nations thank you for the sacrifice of service.
The next day, I finished cleaning out my dad’s personal effects and straightened out the little upstairs area for my next trip out.
It's not as difficult as one would think to close out a chapter of life nor should it be bitter.
MMJ
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