January 17, 1947 - August 23, 2003
On August 21, in the early hours of the day, my father experienced cardiac arrest (stopped breathing and his heart stopped). It took 25 minutes to revive him. He never regained consciousness.
On August 23, after my father was pronounced brain dead, we removed him from life support. I was present when my dad took his last breath, and it was so peaceful and surprisingly enough, beautiful. My dad died 56 years young, with his family by his side.
My siblings and I have requested an autopsy to hopefully determine what caused our father to become so sick. We are hoping to get the answer(s) that our dad had been searching for, for so long.
On the morning we were all dreading, my brother Bill and I were ready to exit the freeway to go to the hospital. Behind us, a truck came speeding out of nowhere. On the truck's license plate, it read:
C U N HEVN
We all know that was a sign from our dad to us. We all believed in miracles, and truly that day, we were so blessed.
Below is what I wrote (and read) for my dad the day of his funeral service. I wrote this in minutes, about 10 minutes before we left that morning. It's amazing that the words were coming faster than I could write them.....
I made hamburgers that night, and rather than asking Dad if he wanted one, I just made it for him. Later, as I walked him to the car, he hugged me and said it was the best hamburger he ate in his whole life. I didn't do anything special to the hamburger, but to dad, it made a difference. And that's how Dad was.
When I was fourteen, I was involved in an organization in school called Builder's Club. Around Christmas time, we had this opportunity to visit a nursing home. I crocheted small Christmas wreath pins for all of the residents of that nursing home as asmall token for them.
I remember Dad volunteered to drive some of us to the nursing home that day. The funniest part was that he didn't realize how many would be riding with us. As you can imagine, it was really funny to see 15 teenagers and an adult crammed into a tiny Buick Skylark! But because of Dad, every person in that car laughed and had a great time. Dad was always remembered by my classmates because of that day.
While we were growing up, Dad was the person who played kickball and four square with us in the street, jumped rope alongside us, participated in a neighborhood water balloon toss, and helped us each time we organized a neighborhood baseball game, which we played in our own yard.
Around our block, Dad was well-known for his flowers. Dad took such pride in the flowers he grew in our yard. When he planted them, people would ask him if he put the right color combinations together, but he never concerned himself with that. He always felt that whatever color combinations and types of combinations appeared, the better.
I also remember Dad taking me to a rock concert at the Ohio State Fair when I was a teenager. It rained the entire day, but Dad never complained about it. Nor did he complain about sitting in that rain for numerous hours on end to ensure his daughter had a great seat for the show. In fact, he made sure to talk to everyone around us and joke with them to make an otherwise dreary day one full of beauty and warmth.
Last year, Dad wrote me a letter, part of which related to the nursing home wreaths I crocheted, that I mentioned earlier. In it, he said, "I remember a child who crocheted additional small Christmas wreaths for patients in a nursing home so that everyone had a small token of appreciation. I've related that story thousands of times to my customers over the years. I watched with fatherly pride a child manipulate her tiny fingers to create joy for strangers."
Because of my dad and his inspiring words, I was able to finally begin my crocheted stuffed animal business online. I haven't met many of the people I have crocheted animals for, but it does not matter, because Dad in his infinite wisdom was right. I was doing my part to create joy for strangers. And because of him, I am still doing that.
Dad loved music of all kinds. He was well-known by our friends at the roller skating rink for dancing to Bob Seger's, "Old Time Rock and Roll." It was his signature song. Last year, I made Dad a CD of all kinds of music. On it, I put a particular song by Rick Springfield called "My Father's Chair." My dad loved that song since the first time he heard it, and it was a favorite of his.
Now, I would like to say a few verses from that song, as it now applies to my own father:
I watch my family, we hold on, we are strong and we'll be alright
The clock continues couting down all the while
And every child will share the long night
But do the spirits meet again?
Why am I still so filled with doubt?
Is my soul everlasting?
And the far distant future
When I knew you'd be gone
Came too fast and stays too long
Why do they leave the weak of spirit and take the strong?
When the world turns sour and i get sick from the smell
And I can find no comfort there
I climb into my father's chair.
Love, Kristi
