I lost my dad a couple of weeks ago. It came as a shock. He was living in an apartment in a nursing home that I put him in with my Aunt, who I also take care of. She fell and ended up in the hospital and when I came to check on him a day later I found him curled up in a ball on the floor. He had fallen and broke a couple of ribs but was otherwise OK.
They both were in separate hospitals and then to rehab facilities 30 miles apart. The rehab facilities were total hell holes, especially the one that my Aunt was in. After an indescribable effort to get them discharged, I was able to get them transferred to a memory care facility. They were down the hall from each other and seemed to be adapting well.
For some perspective, in the last 6 months I have buried my step mom, moved my dad out of his house, sold his house, gotten rid of all of his shit, moved my Aunt out of her apartment, gotten rid of all of her shit, moved them both into a nursing home, dealt with the hospital and rehab situation, and moved them out of their apartment and into a memory care facility. Not to mention consolidating all of his + my aunt's financial accounts which were a total mess, taking both to the doctor, managing both of their health care, and bossing around my idiot siblings who were no help through this process.
So, I got them into the memory care facility and thought that things would stabilize for a bit.
Well, 6 days after I moved him in I received this series of phone calls:
1) 6:45 AM voice male from my dad that was a garbled, him calling my name. I did not think anything of it. He was calling me every 15 minutes at this point, most of which was gibberish.
2) 7:15 AM call from the head nurse at the facility "we're sorry, he didn't make it." WHAT THE ****? It turns out he had a pulmonary embolism and called me while he was dying.
I am still processing it.
Here is the eulogy that I gave at his funeral. I hope it brightens your day even if it is a bit sad. He lives on through everyone that knew him; may he live on in all that read this.
"I have heard it said that we are the average of all the people in our lives. From our closest relationships to casual acquaintances, we are made up of who we know. As I look out today, it strikes me how great my dad was based on how great all of you are.
One thing that strikes me is what an eclectic collection of friends he had. Some of you may know him from seminary at Nazareth Hall. Some of you became fast friends at DeLaSalle. Some of you are friends and family of my mom. Some of you met him through Ivy. My dad had several different stages of life and picked up new friends at each.
Many of you knew a unique John, depending on what stage of life he was at. I would like to tell you a bit about the John that I knew, or Dad as I called him.
He could be goofy. He loved to dress up as Dracula for Halloween. He could be strict, which I did not like as a kid but I can see the wisdom as an adult.
He loved a bargain and used coupons. He could never resist a garage sale. He loved going to auctions and never left without something that seemed like junk but was really a long lost treasure.
He loved cowboys and collected the art of the west throughout his life. He loved books and always had two or three on his nightstand. He loved theatre and good movies, too.
He was loyal and took care of his mom and sister for as long as he could. His best friends were people that he met in high school.
He loved dad jokes but could be a philosopher, too. To this end, I would like to share a brief story.
My dad and mom moved to California when I was very young. They made their way in a place very different than South Minneapolis, where my dad had grown up. But they rose to the occasion and adapted to the new environment.
Getting us to school was one of these challenges. I went to private school and there were no school buses. Being the organizer that my dad was, he put together a car pool with our neighbors, whose children went to the same school. We all became fast friends and spent our mornings and afternoons together as we were shuttled back and forth.
When it was my dad’s turn to drive we would all pile into the back of his Volvo and he would drop us off. As we were leaving, he would tell us “do not take any wooden nickels.” Every. Single. Time.
As a young kid, this was perplexing to me. I often pondered what this meant.
Was it just a silly dad joke, or was it something else?
Were there actually wooden nickels in circulation?
I was not doing much transacting at the time, how would I encounter this situation?
Would I know a wooden nickel when I saw one?
What would happen if I did take a wooden nickel?
As I got older, I would reflect on this. There was a serious lesson to be had in that I should be on guard and not be a sucker. But it was also a silly dad joke that he was telling us to get a laugh and start our day on a good note. It also was a way of him telling us that he loved us and looked forward to being with us each morning.
I tell you this, because this is how my dad was. He was very serious on one end but also very easygoing at the same time. It took me a long time to realize how much he has enriched my life and will take more time still to fully appreciate this. But enrich he did. It seems like we had such a short time together and I miss him already. As sad as I am that he is gone, I rejoice for the time that we spent together while he was here and I know that all of you do, too."
They both were in separate hospitals and then to rehab facilities 30 miles apart. The rehab facilities were total hell holes, especially the one that my Aunt was in. After an indescribable effort to get them discharged, I was able to get them transferred to a memory care facility. They were down the hall from each other and seemed to be adapting well.
For some perspective, in the last 6 months I have buried my step mom, moved my dad out of his house, sold his house, gotten rid of all of his shit, moved my Aunt out of her apartment, gotten rid of all of her shit, moved them both into a nursing home, dealt with the hospital and rehab situation, and moved them out of their apartment and into a memory care facility. Not to mention consolidating all of his + my aunt's financial accounts which were a total mess, taking both to the doctor, managing both of their health care, and bossing around my idiot siblings who were no help through this process.
So, I got them into the memory care facility and thought that things would stabilize for a bit.
Well, 6 days after I moved him in I received this series of phone calls:
1) 6:45 AM voice male from my dad that was a garbled, him calling my name. I did not think anything of it. He was calling me every 15 minutes at this point, most of which was gibberish.
2) 7:15 AM call from the head nurse at the facility "we're sorry, he didn't make it." WHAT THE ****? It turns out he had a pulmonary embolism and called me while he was dying.
I am still processing it.
Here is the eulogy that I gave at his funeral. I hope it brightens your day even if it is a bit sad. He lives on through everyone that knew him; may he live on in all that read this.
"I have heard it said that we are the average of all the people in our lives. From our closest relationships to casual acquaintances, we are made up of who we know. As I look out today, it strikes me how great my dad was based on how great all of you are.
One thing that strikes me is what an eclectic collection of friends he had. Some of you may know him from seminary at Nazareth Hall. Some of you became fast friends at DeLaSalle. Some of you are friends and family of my mom. Some of you met him through Ivy. My dad had several different stages of life and picked up new friends at each.
Many of you knew a unique John, depending on what stage of life he was at. I would like to tell you a bit about the John that I knew, or Dad as I called him.
He could be goofy. He loved to dress up as Dracula for Halloween. He could be strict, which I did not like as a kid but I can see the wisdom as an adult.
He loved a bargain and used coupons. He could never resist a garage sale. He loved going to auctions and never left without something that seemed like junk but was really a long lost treasure.
He loved cowboys and collected the art of the west throughout his life. He loved books and always had two or three on his nightstand. He loved theatre and good movies, too.
He was loyal and took care of his mom and sister for as long as he could. His best friends were people that he met in high school.
He loved dad jokes but could be a philosopher, too. To this end, I would like to share a brief story.
My dad and mom moved to California when I was very young. They made their way in a place very different than South Minneapolis, where my dad had grown up. But they rose to the occasion and adapted to the new environment.
Getting us to school was one of these challenges. I went to private school and there were no school buses. Being the organizer that my dad was, he put together a car pool with our neighbors, whose children went to the same school. We all became fast friends and spent our mornings and afternoons together as we were shuttled back and forth.
When it was my dad’s turn to drive we would all pile into the back of his Volvo and he would drop us off. As we were leaving, he would tell us “do not take any wooden nickels.” Every. Single. Time.
As a young kid, this was perplexing to me. I often pondered what this meant.
Was it just a silly dad joke, or was it something else?
Were there actually wooden nickels in circulation?
I was not doing much transacting at the time, how would I encounter this situation?
Would I know a wooden nickel when I saw one?
What would happen if I did take a wooden nickel?
As I got older, I would reflect on this. There was a serious lesson to be had in that I should be on guard and not be a sucker. But it was also a silly dad joke that he was telling us to get a laugh and start our day on a good note. It also was a way of him telling us that he loved us and looked forward to being with us each morning.
I tell you this, because this is how my dad was. He was very serious on one end but also very easygoing at the same time. It took me a long time to realize how much he has enriched my life and will take more time still to fully appreciate this. But enrich he did. It seems like we had such a short time together and I miss him already. As sad as I am that he is gone, I rejoice for the time that we spent together while he was here and I know that all of you do, too."
