- J
- K
Dad and I need a new story. The old story ended in an unmarked grave 5 months after passing-- and consisted of untruths fitting a narrative told over and over for 24 years to anyone who would listen, and to a kind man whose brain didn’t function like most of ours. For what reason is mere conjecture.
Let’s go back to the beginning for an abbreviated version of the story of Dad. This would be the Before Chapter. Before the brain aneurysm burst and its year-long recovery that took away Dad’s short-term memory and seemed to result in his being easily manipulated. Dad was extremely sociable, jovial, kind-hearted, and enjoyed the finer aspects of dining. When we were all young, Dad, my brother Kevin and I enjoyed being spoiled on occasional trips and outings that expanded our horizons---from a sea plane ride to blueberry picking in the Adirondacks, to Scully’s famous pig roast (seriously! It was famous!) and listening to the song “on top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese…” at the red-checkered tablecloth restaurant in Mattydale that fashioned itself real Italian food.
His fun-spirited nature lent itself well to his job as route salesperson for Pepsi and later Wise potato chips. EVERYONE knew Chuck! And I enjoyed riding along on our visitation weekends ---albeit subjected to his never-ending, cheesy jokes. Those he would never forget thanks to the ever-present notepad so as never to mess up a punchline! His sense of humor belongs in the Before Chapter and the After Chapter. Later, he impressed us all and followed a dream to open a restaurant that ended up to be a premier spot for the City of Syracuse! From a complete overall of the building first catering to locals and those who would enjoy a weekly FREE fresh cooked Roast Beef sandwich to morphing into an upper-class establishment frequented by local celebs.
Life changed in the After Chapter, the aneurysm changed Dad, denying him a short-term memory and other cognitive nuances appeared. But he survived a catastrophic health event and I was so happy. I’m a Daddy’s girl.
After I grew up and got my act together we were like best friends grabbing a drink and food together every week. Of course, that meant hearing the same eye-rolling joke that sometimes bordered on a full-fledged story over and over again, as Dad wouldn’t know he’d already recited it in infinity. Such was the same with day-to-day life since he wasn’t likely to remember a conversation had the day before (unless it contained heavy emotion).
Maybe there is a Middle Chapter that only makes sense if we’re talking a historical timeframe rather than Before this and After that (being the aneurysm.) That Middle Chapter is where I must stop. In a manner so much unlike me, I barely recognize myself, Dad’s death has me shedding a tear every single day. And anger. This is the chapter that caused so much disruption, destruction, disassociation, depression, and dysfunction, it won’t be told here as I prefer to focus on the goodness that was Dad.
Dad endured so much, I couldn’t help but admire him while trying every way possible to improve his situation, despite it all. Over his last 3 years, he broke his collarbone; vertebrae L4 & L1; 6 broken ribs; nose; repeat UTI's; impacted/broken teeth; went blind; had multiple TIA's, ultimately losing his life to COVID-19 pneumonia at Christmastime. Sadly, his passing was equally painful ---though I'm forever grateful for the opportunity to be by his side his last two days.
Through it all he never lost his sense of humor until the bitter end and what I wouldn’t give to hear one more cheesy joke.
So---what can I do when living with the thought of such a good man having an unmarked grave in a place even Dad wouldn’t have chosen for himself? So many of you spoke out on my (hopefully rare) raw post of shock, disbelief, and disgust at this outrage and I appreciate every one of you! There is no marker on order, attempts at reason and discussion were fruitless, and (aside from a midnight grave marker install) there is nothing I can do there. After a long time of reflection, I’ve landed on the next best thing (given the complexities of it all.)
Several years back on one of Dad’s Oregon visits, I bribed him and Joe to the Oregon Gardens with the prospect of a two-fer---a brewfest AND gardens! Ha---they fell for it. It was there we tipped a glass, listed to jokes, strolled some gardens, and enjoyed each other’s company sans any negativity from outside influences.
At the time I was heavily into photography and at the Gardens took a couple of my very favorite Dad photos ever.
Where is this going? It occurred to me weeks ago that a memorial bench might be the way to go. Which led to the question of where? Last weekend I visited the Oregon Gardens after a long absence and was stunned by the devastation last year’s ice storm and later COVID-19 closure has had on the gardens. They have a memorial program where they dedicate an existing tree OR plant a new tree in a person’s honor---it is this latter option I choose! It is not an inexpensive option and I am humbly reaching out by way of this fundraiser to ask for any contribution to have a memorial spot I can visit and tip a glass with a fine meal at the Oregon Garden Resort from time to time.
The tree planting is done twice a year and is a donation of $3,000. I have set that as the goal, however half the expense would be amazing!! He would love this. Dad wanted to know people thought about him. He would want to make you smile at every interaction. With that, this fundraiser includes the promise of a Dad joke with every donation and we’ll plant a new story together and to help the future of the Garden.
Let’s go back to the beginning for an abbreviated version of the story of Dad. This would be the Before Chapter. Before the brain aneurysm burst and its year-long recovery that took away Dad’s short-term memory and seemed to result in his being easily manipulated. Dad was extremely sociable, jovial, kind-hearted, and enjoyed the finer aspects of dining. When we were all young, Dad, my brother Kevin and I enjoyed being spoiled on occasional trips and outings that expanded our horizons---from a sea plane ride to blueberry picking in the Adirondacks, to Scully’s famous pig roast (seriously! It was famous!) and listening to the song “on top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese…” at the red-checkered tablecloth restaurant in Mattydale that fashioned itself real Italian food.
His fun-spirited nature lent itself well to his job as route salesperson for Pepsi and later Wise potato chips. EVERYONE knew Chuck! And I enjoyed riding along on our visitation weekends ---albeit subjected to his never-ending, cheesy jokes. Those he would never forget thanks to the ever-present notepad so as never to mess up a punchline! His sense of humor belongs in the Before Chapter and the After Chapter. Later, he impressed us all and followed a dream to open a restaurant that ended up to be a premier spot for the City of Syracuse! From a complete overall of the building first catering to locals and those who would enjoy a weekly FREE fresh cooked Roast Beef sandwich to morphing into an upper-class establishment frequented by local celebs.
Life changed in the After Chapter, the aneurysm changed Dad, denying him a short-term memory and other cognitive nuances appeared. But he survived a catastrophic health event and I was so happy. I’m a Daddy’s girl.
After I grew up and got my act together we were like best friends grabbing a drink and food together every week. Of course, that meant hearing the same eye-rolling joke that sometimes bordered on a full-fledged story over and over again, as Dad wouldn’t know he’d already recited it in infinity. Such was the same with day-to-day life since he wasn’t likely to remember a conversation had the day before (unless it contained heavy emotion).
Maybe there is a Middle Chapter that only makes sense if we’re talking a historical timeframe rather than Before this and After that (being the aneurysm.) That Middle Chapter is where I must stop. In a manner so much unlike me, I barely recognize myself, Dad’s death has me shedding a tear every single day. And anger. This is the chapter that caused so much disruption, destruction, disassociation, depression, and dysfunction, it won’t be told here as I prefer to focus on the goodness that was Dad.
Dad endured so much, I couldn’t help but admire him while trying every way possible to improve his situation, despite it all. Over his last 3 years, he broke his collarbone; vertebrae L4 & L1; 6 broken ribs; nose; repeat UTI's; impacted/broken teeth; went blind; had multiple TIA's, ultimately losing his life to COVID-19 pneumonia at Christmastime. Sadly, his passing was equally painful ---though I'm forever grateful for the opportunity to be by his side his last two days.
Through it all he never lost his sense of humor until the bitter end and what I wouldn’t give to hear one more cheesy joke.
So---what can I do when living with the thought of such a good man having an unmarked grave in a place even Dad wouldn’t have chosen for himself? So many of you spoke out on my (hopefully rare) raw post of shock, disbelief, and disgust at this outrage and I appreciate every one of you! There is no marker on order, attempts at reason and discussion were fruitless, and (aside from a midnight grave marker install) there is nothing I can do there. After a long time of reflection, I’ve landed on the next best thing (given the complexities of it all.)
Several years back on one of Dad’s Oregon visits, I bribed him and Joe to the Oregon Gardens with the prospect of a two-fer---a brewfest AND gardens! Ha---they fell for it. It was there we tipped a glass, listed to jokes, strolled some gardens, and enjoyed each other’s company sans any negativity from outside influences.
At the time I was heavily into photography and at the Gardens took a couple of my very favorite Dad photos ever.
Where is this going? It occurred to me weeks ago that a memorial bench might be the way to go. Which led to the question of where? Last weekend I visited the Oregon Gardens after a long absence and was stunned by the devastation last year’s ice storm and later COVID-19 closure has had on the gardens. They have a memorial program where they dedicate an existing tree OR plant a new tree in a person’s honor---it is this latter option I choose! It is not an inexpensive option and I am humbly reaching out by way of this fundraiser to ask for any contribution to have a memorial spot I can visit and tip a glass with a fine meal at the Oregon Garden Resort from time to time.
The tree planting is done twice a year and is a donation of $3,000. I have set that as the goal, however half the expense would be amazing!! He would love this. Dad wanted to know people thought about him. He would want to make you smile at every interaction. With that, this fundraiser includes the promise of a Dad joke with every donation and we’ll plant a new story together and to help the future of the Garden.
Organizer
