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Please support me in memory of my father as I hike the Pacific Crest Trail beginning April 30, 2016: 2,689 miles from Mexico to Canada. About 65% do not complete the trail but my father encouraged me to finish anything I'm passionate about. I developed a passion for long distance hiking last year when my father died and hiked 340 miles by myself around the Tahoe Rim Trail...twice and funded it myself. Time to take it to the next level Dad! A third of the proceeds will go directly to my mother who was dedicated to my father every step of the way throughout the 39 years they were married (she doesn't know this). The rest will go to my food to survive the trail.
Thank you for your support. Cherish those you love. It can be taken away at any time. In the end, love is all you will remember.
Below is what I wanted to say at his memorial but I was too sad to speak it...please feel to read or post a comment if you happen to have the time:
This is the story of "Jerry Alexander (Dad, Husband and Superhero) and the Mystery of his Afterlife Events." Some may explain away what I call "mysteries" as spiritually divine, logically sequential or meaningless random events. The mysteries are open to interpretation. Please decide for yourself.
This story began on March 2, 2015, when, tragically, Jerry Alexander, my father, was severely injured in a rollover accident. Two days later, we were faced with our worst fear when doctors informed us there was no chance of recovery and nothing further could be done.
On March 4, 2015, my father, my hero, passed away.
My dad had striking blue eyes, a full head of black hair and no wrinkles. I'm convinced he was much younger than 68, as he was in excellent shape both physically and mentally. Maybe he discovered the Fountain of Youth? After all, he was pretty clever.
He was as straight as an arrow, never drank alcohol or used drugs and always worked hard to support his family. A natural role model.
His appearance, strong character, superior intelligence and exemplar morals reminded me of a superhero. He even looked like Superman. And yes, he was not only my hero, but our hero. My family's hero. I have yet to meet anyone with the same combination of qualities.
He was the centerpiece of our family and he loved us unconditionally.
Jerry had three daughters (I am proudly one of them) and two sons. In order: Sara, Julie, Cliff, Jennifer and Will. He was a devoted husband who loved our mother, Katherine, dearly. He had been married to his beautiful Greek Goddess for 39 full years. He had also been blessed with eight grandchildren: Nicholas (17), Gabriel (14), Alexandra (8), Eva (5), Elias (6), Ayjia (12) and my two boys, David (13) and Casey (6).
My father was surrounded by family and friends when he passed. I held Dad's left hand as the life support machines were switched off, kept my other hand on his heart and focused on his blue eyes hoping that at least his visual cortex had remained functional so he could see how many people were by his side during the last minutes of his beautiful existence. I witnessed his eyes close and I observed his life slip away wondering why I was lucky enough to be the last person he might have seen. Did I actually feel his soul slip away? I think so. His heartbeat, however, remained strong refusing to stop for several minutes as if it were powered with the presence of his family.
Ultimately his heart slowed to a stop and we quickly silenced the unwelcome sound of the heart monitor. My mother cried out and laid her head on my father's chest. It was the most heart breaking cry and there was nothing I could do to ease her pain. Luckily, our Superhero came to the rescue! Immediately, I felt a normal heart rhythm return to 60 beats per minute. I told my Mom, "Hey, he must have heard you somehow because his heart is beating again." The room fell silent until the heart monitor sounded once again.
Our dedicated mother lived for and thrived on her love for my dad, and she took care of everything for him. All of his meals were home cooked and he never had to do chores around the house. They would have celebrated their 40th anniversary this year. I honestly thought my mom would die of a broken heart at first, but she is amazingly strong and seems to be handling this even better than I. Perhaps my mother found strength in the various unexplained events which continued to amaze us even after we witnessed his heartbeat return without oxygen.
The next series of events involve my grandfather. Ironically, my dad was a spitting image of his father and they both died in solo motor vehicle accidents. In fact, two weeks before my father's accident, I told him I was afraid he would die in a car accident "the same way his father had died."
Unfortunately, I was spot on.
Their dates of death were 20 years apart almost down to the very same date: March 6, 1995 and March 4, 2015.
This synchronicity was discovered out of the blue as I stood at the foot of my father's hospital bed just after his passing. I blurted out a question just as quickly as it entered my mind: "So, what is the significance of today's date?" I had no clue what the answer was. Well, I happened to be standing right next to the family genealogy expert who astoundingly had the date of my grandfather's death memorized. Unbelievable.
This next event will surely give the average reader goosebumps or a shiver. This is the story of what my mom discovered while planning my father's burial.
Among the many tasks to accomplish, she announced one morning that she must find the perfect suit for my father and mail it to the mortuary. My dad had several suits in the closet to chose from. Although her charming prince would make any suit look handsome, she carefully selected the perfect one for his final event.
Or did the suit find her? You decide, because what happened next is either inspiring or downright spooky, or both. Immediately before packaging the suit to be mailed to the mortuary, my mother instinctively decided to check the inside pockets. She found a card, opened it and soon realized she was looking at my grandfather's funeral announcement! This was clearly the same suit he had chosen for his father's funeral, 20 years earlier.
Just when the number of coincidences became almost too much to grasp, my Mom noticed the familiar date of my grandfather's burial, March 11, 1995. This was the very same date already reserved for my father's funeral. March 11, 2015.
Later, my grandfather's obituary was discovered among some old photographs. Just like my father, he had also left being eight grandchildren. And, once again, just like my father, five of the grandchildren were boys and three were girls.
The synchronization of my father's life compared to his own father's life is a mystery. And the events which led to the discovery of these similarities occurred with impeccable timing, adding further mystery.
From my perspective, our family has received messages of hope and signs of a higher order. Confirmation that our hero is somewhere in the universe enjoying a good laugh with his father, his hero. Maybe his late twin brother Larry, the family jokester, is with them, too. Together, plotting their next message of hope for my mother.
"Hope is Everything. Life is Everything. Love is Everything. There should be no boundaries to human endeavor. However bad life may seem, while there is life, there is hope."--Stephen Hawking
Thank you for your support. Cherish those you love. It can be taken away at any time. In the end, love is all you will remember.
Below is what I wanted to say at his memorial but I was too sad to speak it...please feel to read or post a comment if you happen to have the time:
This is the story of "Jerry Alexander (Dad, Husband and Superhero) and the Mystery of his Afterlife Events." Some may explain away what I call "mysteries" as spiritually divine, logically sequential or meaningless random events. The mysteries are open to interpretation. Please decide for yourself.
This story began on March 2, 2015, when, tragically, Jerry Alexander, my father, was severely injured in a rollover accident. Two days later, we were faced with our worst fear when doctors informed us there was no chance of recovery and nothing further could be done.
On March 4, 2015, my father, my hero, passed away.
My dad had striking blue eyes, a full head of black hair and no wrinkles. I'm convinced he was much younger than 68, as he was in excellent shape both physically and mentally. Maybe he discovered the Fountain of Youth? After all, he was pretty clever.
He was as straight as an arrow, never drank alcohol or used drugs and always worked hard to support his family. A natural role model.
His appearance, strong character, superior intelligence and exemplar morals reminded me of a superhero. He even looked like Superman. And yes, he was not only my hero, but our hero. My family's hero. I have yet to meet anyone with the same combination of qualities.
He was the centerpiece of our family and he loved us unconditionally.
Jerry had three daughters (I am proudly one of them) and two sons. In order: Sara, Julie, Cliff, Jennifer and Will. He was a devoted husband who loved our mother, Katherine, dearly. He had been married to his beautiful Greek Goddess for 39 full years. He had also been blessed with eight grandchildren: Nicholas (17), Gabriel (14), Alexandra (8), Eva (5), Elias (6), Ayjia (12) and my two boys, David (13) and Casey (6).
My father was surrounded by family and friends when he passed. I held Dad's left hand as the life support machines were switched off, kept my other hand on his heart and focused on his blue eyes hoping that at least his visual cortex had remained functional so he could see how many people were by his side during the last minutes of his beautiful existence. I witnessed his eyes close and I observed his life slip away wondering why I was lucky enough to be the last person he might have seen. Did I actually feel his soul slip away? I think so. His heartbeat, however, remained strong refusing to stop for several minutes as if it were powered with the presence of his family.
Ultimately his heart slowed to a stop and we quickly silenced the unwelcome sound of the heart monitor. My mother cried out and laid her head on my father's chest. It was the most heart breaking cry and there was nothing I could do to ease her pain. Luckily, our Superhero came to the rescue! Immediately, I felt a normal heart rhythm return to 60 beats per minute. I told my Mom, "Hey, he must have heard you somehow because his heart is beating again." The room fell silent until the heart monitor sounded once again.
Our dedicated mother lived for and thrived on her love for my dad, and she took care of everything for him. All of his meals were home cooked and he never had to do chores around the house. They would have celebrated their 40th anniversary this year. I honestly thought my mom would die of a broken heart at first, but she is amazingly strong and seems to be handling this even better than I. Perhaps my mother found strength in the various unexplained events which continued to amaze us even after we witnessed his heartbeat return without oxygen.
The next series of events involve my grandfather. Ironically, my dad was a spitting image of his father and they both died in solo motor vehicle accidents. In fact, two weeks before my father's accident, I told him I was afraid he would die in a car accident "the same way his father had died."
Unfortunately, I was spot on.
Their dates of death were 20 years apart almost down to the very same date: March 6, 1995 and March 4, 2015.
This synchronicity was discovered out of the blue as I stood at the foot of my father's hospital bed just after his passing. I blurted out a question just as quickly as it entered my mind: "So, what is the significance of today's date?" I had no clue what the answer was. Well, I happened to be standing right next to the family genealogy expert who astoundingly had the date of my grandfather's death memorized. Unbelievable.
This next event will surely give the average reader goosebumps or a shiver. This is the story of what my mom discovered while planning my father's burial.
Among the many tasks to accomplish, she announced one morning that she must find the perfect suit for my father and mail it to the mortuary. My dad had several suits in the closet to chose from. Although her charming prince would make any suit look handsome, she carefully selected the perfect one for his final event.
Or did the suit find her? You decide, because what happened next is either inspiring or downright spooky, or both. Immediately before packaging the suit to be mailed to the mortuary, my mother instinctively decided to check the inside pockets. She found a card, opened it and soon realized she was looking at my grandfather's funeral announcement! This was clearly the same suit he had chosen for his father's funeral, 20 years earlier.
Just when the number of coincidences became almost too much to grasp, my Mom noticed the familiar date of my grandfather's burial, March 11, 1995. This was the very same date already reserved for my father's funeral. March 11, 2015.
Later, my grandfather's obituary was discovered among some old photographs. Just like my father, he had also left being eight grandchildren. And, once again, just like my father, five of the grandchildren were boys and three were girls.
The synchronization of my father's life compared to his own father's life is a mystery. And the events which led to the discovery of these similarities occurred with impeccable timing, adding further mystery.
From my perspective, our family has received messages of hope and signs of a higher order. Confirmation that our hero is somewhere in the universe enjoying a good laugh with his father, his hero. Maybe his late twin brother Larry, the family jokester, is with them, too. Together, plotting their next message of hope for my mother.
"Hope is Everything. Life is Everything. Love is Everything. There should be no boundaries to human endeavor. However bad life may seem, while there is life, there is hope."--Stephen Hawking