When I landed in Buffalo, there was a blizzard going on. Bear in mind that this was late April...But I was going to Hamilton to bury the Terrible Old Man, and Hamilton respects this. It would be suitable gray, cold, and drizzling, regardless of the actual season. Funerals are for fall, and the Northeast was accommodating.
My father picked me up at the airport, and took me across the border. On the trip, I saw the most depressing thing I'd seen in ages...They built skyscrapers next to Niagara Falls. I am sure this gives a good view to the people with offices on the 60th floor, but if you're on the ground, it makes the falls look like a merely large sewer drain.
During the drive, my father told me the "Alice" story...Alice was my grandfather's dancing partner for a couple of months, and she had views on modern medicine. She had attempted to get the Terrible Old Man's IV antibiotics removed while there was still a reasonable chance that he'd pull through. Needless to say, the hospital wasn't going to listen to a non-relative, and she wound up being banned from the ward. Creepy.
We arrived at the hospital at about 8PM, and I had a half hour to talk to the Terrible Old Man before he fell asleep. Talk at him is more like it...He was conscious, but not capable of any real speech. A few words, and he'd be worn out. Bear in mind that, by this time, he'd been 3 days without functioning kidneys, and had not had anything to eat or drink. He looked like an inmate at Auschwitz.
(Interesting note: His room in the ward was 100 yards from the room in which he was born, and 75 yards from the Sherman Cut, a road down the mountainside that he helped build - his very first job - in 1920 or so.)
By the time I got to the hospital the next day, he was comatose.
That night, I stood watch over him. The nurse made me sign for his last morphine shot, as she was more than halfway convinced that the shot would kill him (no kidney function means morphine doesn't process for shit, which means the dose was steadily climbing). Since there was no coming back for him, and since I didn't know if he was still in there and able to feel pain, I elected to sign for the shot.
All night long, he would take 3 breaths, then stop for 10 seconds, then right when I was ready to shit myself, he'd take another 3 breaths. It was pretty nerve-wracking. By this point, his eyes weren't tracking, indicating that there was no higher brain function. I was utterly exhausted by the stress when my uncle came in to take over, and I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
The next morning, I had this dream of him looking hale again, riding a gurney with the back raised to a sitting position. He rolled past me in the hospital corridor, with nobody pushing the gurney. He just looked at me while he rolled past, with his usual straight face (For my whole life, I could never tell what he was thinking unless he spoke up).
I woke up a little agitated, and asked my father for any news...And he said "No change."
The Terrible Old Man died 2 hours later.
Eulogy to follow tonight. I have held off, because there are some AMAZING pictures we found in his personal effects, one of which describes his entire personality.
Or Kill Me.
Man...
Roger, if you make me cry at work....
Aw, fuck it. Keep it coming.
wow
Roger, my deepest sympathies and utmost respect.
I'm speechless.
What Hoopla said.
A simple and powerful tribute.
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 05, 2011, 05:45:22 PM
A simple and powerful tribute.
Well, I plan to write a more appropriate eulogy, with some amazing pictures, later on tonight or possibly tomorrow night. The Terrible Old Man was one of those guys that left the world in far better shape than he found it.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 05, 2011, 05:52:56 PM
The Terrible Old Man was one of those guys that left the world in far better shape than he found it.
That, right there, is a hell of a eulogy, all on its own.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 05, 2011, 05:52:56 PM
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 05, 2011, 05:45:22 PM
A simple and powerful tribute.
Well, I plan to write a more appropriate eulogy, with some amazing pictures, later on tonight or possibly tomorrow night. The Terrible Old Man was one of those guys that left the world in far better shape than he found it.
I look forward to that.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 05, 2011, 05:52:56 PM
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 05, 2011, 05:45:22 PM
A simple and powerful tribute.
Well, I plan to write a more appropriate eulogy, with some amazing pictures, later on tonight or possibly tomorrow night. The Terrible Old Man was one of those guys that left the world in far better shape than he found it.
A quality steadily becoming rarer and rarer.
I don't know what to say.
A few years ago, I visited a very good friend the day before he died (throat cancer, he was in his 60s), skinny like your Auschwitz inmate description, he wasn't really there anymore, nodding off, his skin was yellow--I forget why--next day I got a call he passed away. Your story is very different of course, it was in a hospital and he was your family, and I didn't stand watch over him or anything. This brought back those sad memories. I wish I could write it down like you did.
Weeping.
The part about him on the gurney, hale...
Quote from: Nigel on May 05, 2011, 06:28:31 PM
Weeping.
The part about him on the gurney, hale...
My mother is absolutely convinced that was some sort of psychic thing. I think it's far more likely that I knew he was dying, and my brain barfed that up...After all, he was still alive when I had the dream, and when you're in a high-stress situation, that sort of thing happens.
Quote from: Hoopla on May 05, 2011, 06:00:49 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on May 05, 2011, 05:52:56 PM
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on May 05, 2011, 05:45:22 PM
A simple and powerful tribute.
Well, I plan to write a more appropriate eulogy, with some amazing pictures, later on tonight or possibly tomorrow night. The Terrible Old Man was one of those guys that left the world in far better shape than he found it.
A quality steadily becoming rarer and rarer.
Truth.
Death sucks when it's not some filthy hippy choking on their tofu. Hang in there big fella, it'll be our turn soon enough :x
This was a great piece Roger. I'm so glad you were able to make it home in time. I can only imagine how hard this was to write.
Quote from: Khara on May 05, 2011, 10:29:44 PM
This was a great piece Roger. I'm so glad you were able to make it home in time. I can only imagine how hard this was to write.
This.
And I am so sorry.
Wow. I don't have the words, Roger. Reminds me of when my granddad died...yeah, really good stuff. Really looking forward to the eulogy.
Hope your doing well, man. As well as can be.
Quote from: Dr. James Semaj on May 06, 2011, 04:54:59 AM
Wow. I don't have the words, Roger. Reminds me of when my granddad died...yeah, really good stuff. Really looking forward to the eulogy.
Hope your doing well, man. As well as can be.
I'm fine. He had a long, healthy life, and went out in his sleep. If you have to choose your exit, it wasn't a bad one.
I was thinking about the OP today.
No words, only a feeling, one that seems to be part humble admiration, part angered sadness that all the best rusts as much as the worst. Reminds me of this:
Quote from: Payne on June 19, 2008, 02:32:09 AM
This is for all of you out there who have shit going on, in your life, and can't deal. Can't vent. Can't defend yourself from.
There are times when you must be seen, heard, felt. And even the most apathetic or the most cynical of us do it. There are times when you must stick your head over the trench wall and see others toiling away, and take comfort from the fact that you are not alone.
So I am here. I am listening.
Some of us take up the pen, the sword, the megaphone, and turn negativity into a positive. Some of us create temporary monuments out of the shrapnel that rains on us.This is why: if we do not shit our hate, we will die.
Your tasks are your own, what you do, you must do alone, but what is done, will be seen.
The best will be remembered and emulated and refined, it is true, but the best will fade as fast as the worst.
There is nothing permanant. In the space of a life time, we build many monuments, and we tear many down.
There is respite, though. There is a moment of hiding in a shell crater as you run across no-mans-land, sharing a knowing glance with another refugee, leaving your mark, before you jump up again, and run to the next bit of scant cover.
There is that assurance that what we do will have meaning, for a fleeting time perhaps, but not an empty gesture.
And I suppose that some of the words in there are almost what I'd say in reply.
Thanks, Payne.
Really.
Quote from: Luna on May 06, 2011, 05:41:43 PM
Thanks, Payne.
Really.
LMNO recorded a song with those lyrics, and I think he captures the spirit of what I'm after with my previous post.
I'll see if I can find that, and repost sometime this weekend.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD on May 06, 2011, 06:25:04 PM
I'll see if I can find that, and repost sometime this weekend.
I still have it, and can upload it to ifile.it with your permission
Consider it Kopyleft.
http://ifile.it/i68d2p9
Kopyleft, as the man says.
Thanks, I'll grab it at home tonight.
ETA: Got it, thanks. I like!
QuoteI'm fine. He had a long, healthy life, and went out in his sleep. If you have to choose your exit, it wasn't a bad one.
Good on both counts. It's never fun losing someone like that. But, yeah, that's a pretty good way to go.
I'm so very very sorry.
Thanks for sharing that, Roger.