Thank you.


When Nick passed away just over a month ago, it threw quite a bit of my "beliefs" into a tailspin. What I've tried to stand by is a quote from a little known author ... “Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.” ... instead of being upset that I don't have a mom to bring my confidence up, or that I have one less best friend to lean on ... I try to keep memories fresh of the good times I had and be appreciative of them.

No matter how you shake it, I am lucky.

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this thread is one of those priceless 'things' we get from this site.

thinking of you, kev.

Amen to that, sister!

Part of the magic of this place -- that makes it more than a Packer fan hangout, more than another "internet board," is that it's a place where people feel able to put personal things, really personal things, out there. A place where we share heartaches and dreams, angers and loves, insults and opinions. And it all starts with our owner, who doesn't just let us be free to go off however we wish, but provides an example through his own sharing.

And, re: the topic of this thread ...

Dad, Big brother, Happy, I still miss all of you.

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Amen to that, sister!

Part of the magic of this place -- that makes it more than a Packer fan hangout, more than another "internet board," is that it's a place where people feel able to put personal things, really personal things, out there. A place where we share heartaches and dreams, angers and loves, insults and opinions. And it all starts with our owner, who doesn't just let us be free to go off however we wish, but provides an example through his own sharing.

And, re: the topic of this thread ...

Dad, Big brother, Happy, I still miss all of you.

I have tired to post things on another site that I frequent and even though I get more responses over there I am always disappointed in the quality of those responses. When things are a little more personal I think about it and then come to the conclusion that I will only post it here even if only 3-5 people respond.

Thanks once again Kevin.

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This has been a difficult year. Lost a best friend that I had since age 12, lost the only grandpa I've ever known and found out mom had no final resting place. I hadn't asked where her remains were buried because I had absolutely zero intentions of ever entering the city limits of Sturgeon Bay.

I designed and ordered the headstone marker, which was more difficult than I expected. It was placed on her final resting place October 14th, just 10 days after her remains were buried next to her father who passed away when she was only 11 years old.

Mom is now resting peaceful.

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Mom's memorial was placed just over a week ago. Yesterday my dad and I went and seen it for the first time. I was nervous they would mess up the design I made, but they did a nice job.

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beautiful...just beautiful.

That's beautiful, Kevin.

I guess the fact that she was so loved by you means that her life made a difference here. And that shows her life had true meaning.

January it will be 40 years since my Dad died. I still miss him. As long as I am here, I will miss him. He also was a very special man. I never met anyone that had a bad thing to say about him. I hope that when I leave this earth, that someone will remember and miss me.

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Some say the time flies by. Today it's been seven years and it hasn't flown by. I have been graced with such great daughters and I think of the smiles they would bring out of mom. Easily the most difficult time of the year next to holidays and it feels like solitude.

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April 30th, I got a call at 6 am from Grandma. I thought to myself "Grandma, your computer issue can wait until the afternoon!" and the other thought was "Shit, something happened to Grandpa". I didn't answer the phone. I took my shower, prepared myself for news about my Grandpa.

I called back and she told me mom was in the hospital. I kind of dismissed it because mom had been in the hospital quite a bit and every time she pulled through. Grandma says "Kevin, the doctor said she wouldn't make it through the night. She has a pulse, but is not responsive." I told Grandma to let me know when she woke up and to have her call me.

A little while later I get the call on my way to work that mom's heart had stopped. There was a pause and then Grandma who was somber, sad, as you'd expect with the passing of her child; went from those emotions to sternly saying "Kevin, you need to listen to me, there is NOTHING you could have done to prevent this, NOTHING, you need to understand that".

I told her "Please just have her call me when she wakes up". I don't think I've ever heard my Grandma cry, but when she said "Kevin, ... she's ... she's.... Linda .... your mom is gone Kevin, she's gone, we lost her" it was no secret she was crying her eyes out. I completely lost it driving on 172 towards work. I had tears streaming down like Niagara falls.

I remember driving on 57 north to Sturgeon Bay to go to the funeral home thinking "How the hell doesn't anyone tell me mom was in the hospital? I'm her oldest son and no one thinks to tell me?" I was really pissed off at my family and then asked myself ... would you have gone? would you have went to the hospital at 9-10pm when the ambulance came to her home because she collapsed? Would you have just dismissed this as another "she won't walk out of this hospital" and she does anyway?

The thing is, mom had been in the hospital so many times. And I was told so many times (maybe 3 or 4, but feels like a ton) by the hospital staff that things weren't looking good. Every single time she walked out. I had just started my career several months earlier and it was something I was obsessively driven to succeed in so would I have went to the hospital that Tuesday night? Would me being there have made her survive Wednesday? What could I have done differently? What would I have done differently if I had known she was hospitalized? Would I have know the grave nature of this hospital call or would I have dismissed it as another instance of she won't make it and does anyway?

It's hard to believe its been only 10 years coming this April 30th. It feels like 20+. I feel she's missed so much of my life. I feel I've really grown a lot in many areas over the last ten years and I know I should be thankful for those I have, but it feels somewhat hollow she isn't here to see it. Here to see her granddaughters growing up, sharing laughs with them, sharing smiles with them. I miss telling her stories and hearing her laugh and making her smile.

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Don't fault or second guess yourself for not going to the hospital. There isn't a right or wrong way to respond. You did what you thought was the right thing to do.

After so many false reports, I have heard a lot of people feel the same way. It's human nature.
You love your mom. She knew it too.

Having her here and watching the girls grow up would have been awesome. My Dad's been gone for 10 years. My kids are older but I feel the same way. I wish he could have been at their weddings. I would have loved to sit with him and my father in-law before my daughter's wedding and listen to them talk.

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This thread reminds me of that famous viral post from Reddit.

Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

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NSD, your post is what I heard from my Mom as she was in the first year after we lost Dad.

Big things like BDays or holidays you prepare for and can make it through them. (Or at least some people can.)

What took the wind out of my Mom's sails were the unexpected and often little things. One sunny morning she was going to make some coffee, get Dad out of bed and sit on their deck and enjoy the day. Oh.... Wait, no she can't. 😞
On an other occasion she heard their favorite song .... 😞

What was helpful was my siblings and I, then our eldest kids took turns and sent her flowers on the 27th of the month. (Usually yellow roses.) We did it for a year. It was ironic that the 27th was the most difficult day when all these little unexpected events popped up.

About 6 months into giving her all the flowers, tearfully, she told me that she didn't think she would ever get yellow roses again. (Dad's go to floral arrangement for Mom.) I told Mom that Dad taught us how to take care of her. In reality I never realized how often he gave her yellow roses. I didn't know how much she loved them. Mainly because I didn't pay attention. I didn't realize it would be so important some day. I never thought about needing to take care of the woman who took care of me for so many years. Even after I was an adult she was the go between for the family and Dad. She had a way of smoothing all of his rough edges.

As I watch her dementia eat away at her it takes everything I have ever learned from her to remain patient and understanding. I don't tell her that she asked me the same question 5 times in the last 10 minutes. If she asks about it I deflect her question and down play it and tell her it is not an issue to worry about. I point out that she remembers all the important things. Her name. Where she lives. Her children (incl grands and great grands.)

I help her make out her Christmas checks. For each and every check she writes she is always shocked when she sees what the year is. About half way through the process I ask her what year does it seem to be. She always says about 5 years earlier. I tell her almost everybody feels that way.

Man, now I am kinda depressed.

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Man...we all have heartaches. Sometimes it seems we are the only ones to go through it. It helps to know we are not alone.
5 days ago was the "anniversary" of my dad's death. He's been gone as many years now as he lived, 44 years.
My mom has been gone 27 years, my only brother 23 years.
I have dreams, and sometimes nightmares about them.

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The topic of this thread from post #1 is about being supportive to those that have lost a loved one/family member. I support that very thing. It is never easy to deal with such losses. Furthermore, some all to often did little to support them when they were alive.

How many of us have a relative/friend that needs your help now, before they die. Pride often prevents them from asking for help in their lives. Yet due to illness or some other reason they need assistance and would accept it if offered. What help you say?

House cleaning, transportation (to the Dr. or to get needed groceries), or just a visit to ease their being alone can mean more than I can compose here. All to often many of us are so absorbed in our own lives that we neglect to see others needs and to help in their lives.

Offer a bit of your time to help another, you may benefit more from it than you would believe possible.

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Amazing how losing one person can change so much about you, and your path in life. Where do you go?

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Kevin, I was just thinking about calling my Dad a few days ago. Then I remembered I can't. You would think after all these years it wouldn't hurt but it still does.

My mom's memory grows worse all the time. I know she is winding down very slowly. It's kinda hard to watch but at least she is still here. I showed her a video of my grandson crawling. She smiled and marveled at his growth. Then I showed her some photos of some of her great grand kids and how much they have grown. She was amazed at how big they are getting. She has 5 kids, 12 grandkids, 13 great grands and now a great great grandson. Not to mention many nieces, nephews, great nieces and nephews plus the kids of her cousins and a few foster kids. I have watched treat everyone of them as someone special.

Enjoy your memories Kevin, they are what make life sweet.

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That's a precious thing watching your mother see the grandchildren. I was talking to my girlfriend last night about this topic and told her my dad was my driving force that never let me settle for "good enough" while instilling the belief I can do anything if I set my mind to it, while my mom was my inspiration. It was that balance that I didn't realize how important it was until 11 years ago when it was gone. I told her while that has thrown me out of whack, it's mom not seeing her granddaughters grow from diaper stinking brats into young ladies that really just destroys me inside and out.

What we can do though right? We just have to pick up the pieces and make the most of what we have and be eternally thankful what we did once have.

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You're right. It's terrible difficult. It can tear you up if you allow it. Remember that YOU are your mother's inspiration. I begin many of my comments by telling my kids or nieces/nephews, "You're grandfather told me this ..." I try to pass back up the genealogy line as much as I can.

A few years ago I gave my son some money to help with his college debt. He wouldn't be able to enroll for the next semester until he paid off his outstanding balance. My mom had just given me some money a few weeks earlier when she sold her rental property.

I told my son where the money came from. That his grandfather valued education and would want him to have it. I then told him the money for one of the apartment buildings (they had 3) came from grandpa selling his share of the family farm. I then told him about his great grandfather working the farm. Sweating, bleeding, freezing and probably even crying some times. His great grandfather didn't do it for my son. He didn't even know him or think of him. He did it to raise his kids. Our farm is a Centennial Farm (My uncle bought it from the estate before he passed away.) It's been in the family for more than 100 years. MY great great grandfather also worked the land and sweated, bled, froze and even cried to raise his family. I then told him I didn't do anything for this money it was the prior 3 generations that did all the work to make this gift possible for him. I then said, now go make something of yourself, not for their sake, for your sake.

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I envy those that have property that goes back generations. It’s like having a piece of history that your ancestors lived on. Kind of like having them still with you. To be actually able to see with your own eyes the very place they lived and worked on.

It’s amazing how many years have gone by since the original start of this thread.

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Reading this from the start and realizing I miss a lot of the people who posted. But, am thankful for those who still come around.

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For me, empathy for the loss of family or a close friend is warranted as well as the respectful thing to do. The core issue is grief. When we stop and are honest with such a situation, we really are not grieving for the deceased, but rather for ourselves that that person will no longer be a living part of our lives. Yes empathy over the manor of the death is valid, yet following their death they no longer suffer, or are in pain, or in emotional distress.

I too have lost family/friends in my lifetime. Some were expected and others were an unexpected event. In the Spring of 1983, I lost my father, my grandfather, a close aunt within a 2 month period. I felt the loss, but realized that prolonging the grief only made me feel bad and really served no good purpose.

We grieve, respect, and even honor our departed, but moving on beyond the hurt is the challenge.

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