Don't Let A Good Man Go Unburied
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Do you see that man there, the one that looks like superman? That man is my father, he doesn’t just look like a hero, he is a hero. My father is a hero because he battled cancer for 5 years, he battled for 5 years and he beat it. He beat it with a smile on his lips, he beat it with a joke for his nurse, he beat it with love, and he beat it with kindness. He beat his cancer by never letting it change him into something other than the great man he was. My father wasn’t killed by the cancer he was fighting, he was killed by an as of yet unknown freak occurrence. My father led a short and a hard life. He was a powerful man. He was powerful because he was given the shortest straw of any man I know and through force of will he was able to turn it into something beautiful. He was powerful because although he struggled, he didn’t let his pain turn him hard. He was powerful enough to cry when he held his sad child, he was powerful enough to use his pain to steer others away from theirs, and he was also powerful enough to lift a truck if he needed to. My father left this earth with no money, no house, no car, and very few possessions… But make no mistake, he did leave a large and lasting mark on this world. He left his mark through teaching, he left it through coaching, he left it through the things he made, and he left it on the people that he left behind.
My Father’s Life
(Skip To The Last Paragraph If You Aren’t Interested)
My father was born in California but grew up in the hills of Appalachia in a house without amenities such as running water. He was born with a girl’s name to a couple half Native American, half white parents. His mother was a woman with land full of animals meant to be eaten that were adopted as pets. His father was one of the most evil human beings I have ever heard of. His father was a butcher, a 21 gun marksman, a sniper, a golden gloves boxer, a World War II veteran, a dishonorable discharge, a scrapper, an alcoholic, a pedophile, a rapist, and almost certainly a murderer. My father was the oldest of the family’s 6 brothers and 2 sisters. He grew up bruised, cold, and hungry in a broken down converted coffin truck outside their home. As a child he would chop wood, dumpster dive, guide hunters, fight forest fires, and help hikers along the Appalachian Trail for money to feed himself and his family. It was a difficult life. He ran away from home with the oldest of his brothers as soon as he had the chance. Although this sounds like the upbringing of a serial killer my father turned into a kind, brilliant man with amazing athletic talent. He would put himself in electronics engineering school, teach himself to be a truly amazing finish carpenter, and he would even become an Atlanta Falcon Football player for a few short weeks before becoming injured during a church softball game. He was told that he would probably never walk without a cane after his injury but as had already become his habit he would laugh in the face of the odds before proceeding to smash though the projections others would make for his life. He would continue to do this right up until his death.
When he was a young man he met my mother and her daughter. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, they each had personal struggles, they were both young… They also both became amazing parents, if not initially then long before the end. My father re-married in a relationship that wouldn’t last but would produce his third son. My dad was a loving father to all his children, nothing was more important to him than his children. He wasn’t afraid to lay fully on the ground in the middle of a busy public sidewalk to watch a bug that one of his sons was interested in. He would rent a bounce house and balloons for absolutely no reason and invite all the local kids to make friends with his children. He would pick his kids up in the middle of the school day to give them small parties just because he loved them and wanted them to feel more loved than he did. He was a happy, music loving, football playing, dungeons and dragons gaming dad who loved nothing more than to answer every single question his kids could think to ask. (and we asked millions, I’m sure).
In the middle of his life my father suffered a run of very bad luck which completely de-railed his life and put him in the care of his brother Thomas in Virginia (where he grew up). This bad luck took him away from his children for many years while he was dealing with health problems, delays, predatory businesses, and never ending bureaucracy. He would work for years trying to beat cancer and come home from Virginia only to hear “You’re approved for surgery but colon cancer isn’t a covered cancer, too bad it’s not breast cancer…” A statement which lead him to California. My father moved into a house with his newly appointed firefighter/paramedic son and a girl named Sarah who would make him laugh more than anyone had ever made him laugh. A woman whom he would come to think of as a daughter. He would fight his cancer and other health problems for two more years with many more set backs and uncaring insurance companies. Throughout his struggles he would remain positive and continue to improve gradually as time went on. After a couple botched surgeries he would finally have his health improve enough to be scheduled for the final surgery, the one to beat the cancer. Unfortunately, although he was looking and feeling better than he had in years, he would suddenly die just three days before the cancer was finally cut out. He didn’t prepare a will because he didn’t need one, he was winning and that was that. He was going to get back in shape to play ball with his sons, he was going to visit his brothers, he was going to build a house with his bare hands, he was going to do a million amazing things to make the world a better place… and now he can’t.
Please Help
My Father’s only wish was that he not be cremated. He didn’t care about the casket, the service, the flowers, or most other things I was asked about at the mortuary. He just wanted to be in the ground somewhere green. Unfortunately the state of California only assists with cremation and even the simplest burials are many times more expensive than he or I knew. Funeral homes and cemeteries don’t have payment plans, they demand payment up front and in full. I thought the worst thing a son could have to do is bury his father. I’m learning that failing to bury your father can be so much worse. Please donate anything you can so that I can bury him. I’m also open to loans from individuals, anything to get him in the ground. I promise that I will work as long and as hard as it takes to pay anyone who loans me money back as quickly as possible. Thank you
My Father’s Life
(Skip To The Last Paragraph If You Aren’t Interested)
My father was born in California but grew up in the hills of Appalachia in a house without amenities such as running water. He was born with a girl’s name to a couple half Native American, half white parents. His mother was a woman with land full of animals meant to be eaten that were adopted as pets. His father was one of the most evil human beings I have ever heard of. His father was a butcher, a 21 gun marksman, a sniper, a golden gloves boxer, a World War II veteran, a dishonorable discharge, a scrapper, an alcoholic, a pedophile, a rapist, and almost certainly a murderer. My father was the oldest of the family’s 6 brothers and 2 sisters. He grew up bruised, cold, and hungry in a broken down converted coffin truck outside their home. As a child he would chop wood, dumpster dive, guide hunters, fight forest fires, and help hikers along the Appalachian Trail for money to feed himself and his family. It was a difficult life. He ran away from home with the oldest of his brothers as soon as he had the chance. Although this sounds like the upbringing of a serial killer my father turned into a kind, brilliant man with amazing athletic talent. He would put himself in electronics engineering school, teach himself to be a truly amazing finish carpenter, and he would even become an Atlanta Falcon Football player for a few short weeks before becoming injured during a church softball game. He was told that he would probably never walk without a cane after his injury but as had already become his habit he would laugh in the face of the odds before proceeding to smash though the projections others would make for his life. He would continue to do this right up until his death.
When he was a young man he met my mother and her daughter. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, they each had personal struggles, they were both young… They also both became amazing parents, if not initially then long before the end. My father re-married in a relationship that wouldn’t last but would produce his third son. My dad was a loving father to all his children, nothing was more important to him than his children. He wasn’t afraid to lay fully on the ground in the middle of a busy public sidewalk to watch a bug that one of his sons was interested in. He would rent a bounce house and balloons for absolutely no reason and invite all the local kids to make friends with his children. He would pick his kids up in the middle of the school day to give them small parties just because he loved them and wanted them to feel more loved than he did. He was a happy, music loving, football playing, dungeons and dragons gaming dad who loved nothing more than to answer every single question his kids could think to ask. (and we asked millions, I’m sure).
In the middle of his life my father suffered a run of very bad luck which completely de-railed his life and put him in the care of his brother Thomas in Virginia (where he grew up). This bad luck took him away from his children for many years while he was dealing with health problems, delays, predatory businesses, and never ending bureaucracy. He would work for years trying to beat cancer and come home from Virginia only to hear “You’re approved for surgery but colon cancer isn’t a covered cancer, too bad it’s not breast cancer…” A statement which lead him to California. My father moved into a house with his newly appointed firefighter/paramedic son and a girl named Sarah who would make him laugh more than anyone had ever made him laugh. A woman whom he would come to think of as a daughter. He would fight his cancer and other health problems for two more years with many more set backs and uncaring insurance companies. Throughout his struggles he would remain positive and continue to improve gradually as time went on. After a couple botched surgeries he would finally have his health improve enough to be scheduled for the final surgery, the one to beat the cancer. Unfortunately, although he was looking and feeling better than he had in years, he would suddenly die just three days before the cancer was finally cut out. He didn’t prepare a will because he didn’t need one, he was winning and that was that. He was going to get back in shape to play ball with his sons, he was going to visit his brothers, he was going to build a house with his bare hands, he was going to do a million amazing things to make the world a better place… and now he can’t.
Please Help
My Father’s only wish was that he not be cremated. He didn’t care about the casket, the service, the flowers, or most other things I was asked about at the mortuary. He just wanted to be in the ground somewhere green. Unfortunately the state of California only assists with cremation and even the simplest burials are many times more expensive than he or I knew. Funeral homes and cemeteries don’t have payment plans, they demand payment up front and in full. I thought the worst thing a son could have to do is bury his father. I’m learning that failing to bury your father can be so much worse. Please donate anything you can so that I can bury him. I’m also open to loans from individuals, anything to get him in the ground. I promise that I will work as long and as hard as it takes to pay anyone who loans me money back as quickly as possible. Thank you
Organisator
Ty Jackson
Organisator
Los Angeles, CA
