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My father died of a stroke just over a month ago. My family and I were with him at the end.
I miss him so much, and my grief is still very fresh, so I'll give you a biography of him below, without many personal notes. Perhaps in a later diary I will be able to talk about what I valued in him, and why I miss him.
My father was born in 1919 to two people who were the first of their large families to be born in the U.S.A. instead of Russia (today the area they came from is known as the Ukraine). He was their first son, and they had a second son, and then two daughters.
In 1937 he and two friends set out from Revere, MA, to drive to the University of California at Berkeley, where they were to start college. He had known one of those friends since the first grade. Once in Berkeley, he set about making friends and learning about many things. The voracious reading on many topics continued throughout his life. He met and married his first wife, and graduated with a degree in Modern European History in 1941, after having taken classes in Rhetoric, Philosophy, and Mandarin (among many others). He had developed a love for Shakespeare's plays, and Gilbert & Sullivan operettas. Though he had very little musical ability, he even performed two roles in public, including a solo song.
Due to a bad heart valve, he was unable to serve in World War II, but his younger brother did serve with distinction, and was shot down over the Pacific in 1945. My father's parents and sisters then moved out to California, to join my father and his wife, and eldest daughter, and soon afterwards, his second daughter was born.
Some time later, he and his first wife realized that though they still loved each other, the marriage was no longer working. They separated amicably and remained friends for the rest of their lives.
He worked for Rand Corporation (talking up personal computers in the 1960s, if my aunt is to be believed), and then Dymo Corporation (do you remember Dymo labels?). He then met and married my mother, and I was born after he was 50 years old. He retired when Dymo was bought, and started his own investment management company.
Throughout the years his interest in Shakespeare and Gilbert & Sullivan continued, and possibly even increased. He took several Shakespeare classes with my mother, including one at a college in Oxford. He took everyone to see Gilbert & Sullivan opererettas, including his daughters from the time we could sit still through them, and his neighbors, and his friends, and even the nice woman who sold him fish at the fish market. He made an expedition with my mother to the International Gilbert & Sullivan Festival in Buxton, England, and planned a return trip for 2009.
In 2000, at the age of 80, he retired for good. He slowed down, but did not stop pursuing his many interests. He took over the shopping for my mother, and began planning readings of Shakespeare plays with friends and family. He took great joy in family and friends, especially his great-grandson, who was born in May of this year.
On the evening of October 3rd, just before sitting down to dinner with my mother, my father had a stroke. He knew it right away, and they called 911 and took him to the best stroke treatment facility in the area. I was close by, and arrived before they left the ICU, and was able to greet and hug him.
My father took Coumadin as a blood thinner following a heart valve replacement surgery over a decade ago. He'd had two previous episodes of internal bleeding, and two extended stays in the hospital in the last year. Due to that blood thinner, he had an enormous amount of blood in his brain by the time they did a CAT scan.
Because he had a clearly-written Advance Directive (also known as a Healthcare Power of Attorney, and probably other names) that he had told both my mother and me about, we knew his wishes. He did not want any artificial techniques used to prolong his life. My mother and I stayed with him, and he died quietly on the evening of October 4th.
I can't tell you how many people's lives he touched. I do know that there's far more than I can tell here - and I haven't even said one word about his love for baseball!
Thank you for reading.
I'll close with an old Irish saying that seems to fit:
A long life and a merry one,
A quick death and an easy one