Today is the 22'nd anniversary of Dad's death. He died suddenly while performing on stage at a dress rehearsal for a community service show put on by the Kiwanis club that year.
There were 70 members of the club there to witness his passing. My then wife and I were members of the club as well and were supposed to be there that night. Around 5pm I got a severe pain in the back of my neck like I had never had before and had to call mom to tell her we wouldnt be there.
I had seen Dad 2 days earlier at the birthday party we had for my 2 year old son. He was his regular fine old self and we had a good time that night. It was the last I saw of him alive.
At 8 PM the pain in my neck left as if it was never there. At 805 I got a call from my sister telling me to get to the hospital where she worked as dad was taken in.
We anxiously awaited for the doc to come into the room to tell us what was going on. A young man looking like he had aged 20 years came into the room and looked me in the eye and said " It isnt good" That was all that was needed to be said.
Dad had dropped to the floor on stage while rehearsing his solo number. The fire chief and head hospital nurse were there as they were members of the club, and they immediately performed CPR and got him to the point where the ambulance could take him out.
He didnt survive the 2 minute ride. He was gone. Never to meet his future grandaughter or my new wife and his grandson that would carry his name.
I have had the same type of neck pain on 5 occasions since that night and on all of them something has happened to a family member or friend. I look at it as a warning that I can do nothing about, something Dad is trying to tell me.
I have see him twice since his death. Crazy as that may sound. He was there. I feel him him with me on a daily basis and have for all these years. I miss him every day, but especially around this time of year.
The very night he died, A woman named Nancy wrote a poem dedicated to him. It has been with me always. She is a member of the club as well and a published author. If not for her and the other friends made through that club, I would not be here today.
Here is the poem:
The Sudden Passing of a Friend
They say that all the world's a stage
And we just players on it,
Your time on stage was brief-
You died doing what you loved,
Singing the perfect song for you,
And yet the time was wrong,
Was out of joint,
And you were taken in your prime,
Into another place, a shadow world
Where we could not follow after you
Or help to ease the pain of passage.
If we have learned anything of death
From life,
We have confronted the fragility
Of our existence,
We are the harmonic blend of violins,
Of voices, and of triumphs.
We are capable of love and joy,
And the long, long memory of sorrow.
But sadly, there are some things
We cannot mend.
And so we let you go,
My friend,
And take our comfort from each other,
For your loss.
And when we take our final curtain call
On darkened stage, the houselights dimmed,
The final chorus given,
We will remember you and weep,
At the stilling of a song.
__________________
And now I am off to spend some time with mom today.
There were 70 members of the club there to witness his passing. My then wife and I were members of the club as well and were supposed to be there that night. Around 5pm I got a severe pain in the back of my neck like I had never had before and had to call mom to tell her we wouldnt be there.
I had seen Dad 2 days earlier at the birthday party we had for my 2 year old son. He was his regular fine old self and we had a good time that night. It was the last I saw of him alive.
At 8 PM the pain in my neck left as if it was never there. At 805 I got a call from my sister telling me to get to the hospital where she worked as dad was taken in.
We anxiously awaited for the doc to come into the room to tell us what was going on. A young man looking like he had aged 20 years came into the room and looked me in the eye and said " It isnt good" That was all that was needed to be said.
Dad had dropped to the floor on stage while rehearsing his solo number. The fire chief and head hospital nurse were there as they were members of the club, and they immediately performed CPR and got him to the point where the ambulance could take him out.
He didnt survive the 2 minute ride. He was gone. Never to meet his future grandaughter or my new wife and his grandson that would carry his name.
I have had the same type of neck pain on 5 occasions since that night and on all of them something has happened to a family member or friend. I look at it as a warning that I can do nothing about, something Dad is trying to tell me.
I have see him twice since his death. Crazy as that may sound. He was there. I feel him him with me on a daily basis and have for all these years. I miss him every day, but especially around this time of year.
The very night he died, A woman named Nancy wrote a poem dedicated to him. It has been with me always. She is a member of the club as well and a published author. If not for her and the other friends made through that club, I would not be here today.
Here is the poem:
The Sudden Passing of a Friend
They say that all the world's a stage
And we just players on it,
Your time on stage was brief-
You died doing what you loved,
Singing the perfect song for you,
And yet the time was wrong,
Was out of joint,
And you were taken in your prime,
Into another place, a shadow world
Where we could not follow after you
Or help to ease the pain of passage.
If we have learned anything of death
From life,
We have confronted the fragility
Of our existence,
We are the harmonic blend of violins,
Of voices, and of triumphs.
We are capable of love and joy,
And the long, long memory of sorrow.
But sadly, there are some things
We cannot mend.
And so we let you go,
My friend,
And take our comfort from each other,
For your loss.
And when we take our final curtain call
On darkened stage, the houselights dimmed,
The final chorus given,
We will remember you and weep,
At the stilling of a song.
__________________
And now I am off to spend some time with mom today.
