Weather forecast for January 22, 2019:
Skipjack Marina, Marathon, Florida
Low 78 high 85
Southeast winds, 10 to 15 kts
Captain’s Log: January 09, 2019 thru January 20, 2019
On January 9th my grade-school buddy Bobby, who was in Islamorada on business, drove down to Marathon and spent the day with us. It was great catching up with him.
On the evening of January 10th, my sister Kathy called to tell me that Dad's condition had deteriorated and that I needed to get back home as soon as possible. Not knowing how much time Dad had left, Shirley and I decided that I should fly home immediately and that she would join me in a few days or a few weeks, depending on Dad's condition. Whatever the situation, I was not going to leave Cincinnati again until after Dad had passed. Shirley drove me to Ft. Lauderdale the next morning to catch my flight and I walked into Mom & Dad's apartment at 3:30pm that afternoon. I was shocked to see how far Dad had declined in the week since I had seen him last.
All of my siblings and a few spouses were already there with Mom. Dad was in his bed, unconscious, a hospice nurse by his side. His raspy, irregular, labored breathing told us all that he was close to death.
Dad was born on Monday, November 30th, 1925 and died at 6:15pm on Friday, January 11th, 2019, at the ripe old age of 93 years, one month and 12 days, in his own bed, at home, with his wife of 70 years holding his hand, whispering comfort in his ear and caressing his cheek, and with his eight children gathered around his bedside.
We had just finished praying the rosary together, out loud, some of us standing, some of us kneeling around his bed, led by my sister Kathy, not 10 minutes before he took his last breath.
None of us knows what the moment of death is really like and, as Dad has said to me several times, we will each have our turn. Dad took his turn with strength, grace and dignity. Even in death he set a good example for us.
We each had a private moment to speak to him and I know in my heart that he was not going to leave us until we were all there with him. I can’t imagine a better way to go.
There is so much about my Dad that I would like to share with you; the kind of man he was, the kind of father he was, the kind of husband he was, the kind of friend he was; but time will not permit me to share all of the wonderful anecdotes or tell all of the hilarious stories. Believe me, there are many.
Dad was a veteran of World War II. During his junior year at Elder High School he enlisted and subsequently served as a member of the bomber command of the 20th Army Air Corp in the Pacific theater. He was proud of his service, as we are.
Dad was a simple, unassuming guy whose smile could light up any room that he walked into. He was a kind, considerate, jovial, hard-working man who loved each of his eight children unconditionally and who was completely devoted to the light of his life, Rose Marie Ostendorf.
I really can’t talk about Dad without also talking about Mom, my beautiful mother. For me, Mom and Dad are one; they are bookends, they are the yin and the yang, they are the alpha and the omega. There is not one without the other. I know that my sisters and brothers feel the same way.
As a child, and later, as a young man, I used to think that my family was pretty normal. I just assumed that all families were like mine. I didn’t think that there was anything really ‘special’ about us. I thought that, as families go, we were pretty ordinary.
It was obvious that Mom and Dad loved and respected each other and, as their children, we always felt their love and support.
As I grew older and as I gained more insight into the lives of others, I began to think that maybe, as families go, we were a bit special.
As the years passed I began to realize that my family was actually extraordinary. We love each other, we know that we can count on each other, we look forward to, and genuinely enjoy, each other’s company, and when we are together, we laugh until our stomachs ache and our jaws hurt.
That was Mom and Dad’s gift to us, and it is extraordinary.
Consider for one moment the following:
My mother and father brought nine children into this world and we never suspected that they had had sex.
My older brother Joe died a few hours after birth, but the rest of us are still here, healthy and happy.
As a testimony to Mom’s discipline and her rigorous prayer routine, and to Dad’s firm, reinforcing hand, none of us spent any time in jail (although a couple of my brothers came close).
We have great genes, we are all very good looking and a few of us are smart.
Mom and Dad gave all of that to us, and it is extraordinary.
We grew up in a crowded, chaotic, noisy, happy home. I can’t imagine how they did it and kept sane but, after a long day of cleaning, cooking, corralling, and caring for us all, Mom had a smile on her face as Dad walked through the door and the 10 of us converged around the kitchen table, and Dad, after a long day in the office or on the road, was very happy to be home, was in a good mood and was ready to enjoy his family. We always ate well and we laughed hard!
Mom and Dad made that home for us, and it is extraordinary.
My siblings and I are truly blessed to be the children of two exceptional people; two strong, hard working, good, kind and loving people who showed us, by their example, what love is, what a marriage should be and how to live a good and happy life.
Dad was a funny, witty, optimistic man who was full of life. He loved to laugh and he always looked for an opportunity to make others laugh. Even when discussing approaching death, Dad, and Mom, always seemed to have something funny or lighthearted to add to an otherwise somber conversation. Their faith gave then strength.
Dad believed that laughter, a round of 9 holes with Mom every Wednesday morning at Newmann and a daily vodka-on-the-rocks with anchovy-stuffed olives, were the keys to a long, healthy and happy life.
He was right.
Mom and Dad are the personification of a PERFECT LOVE, and their children, grand children and great-grand children are the beneficiaries of that love.
It is extraordinary. Mom and Dad, thank you!
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Shirley gave to me the following verse; I don't know who the original author is. Shirley found this beautiful verse and dedicated it to Ted, the man she loved and lost back in 2012. It touches me deeply every time that I read it.
Shirley, thank you for allowing me to rededicate this to my Father.
I stand upon the seashore as a ship spreads its sails to the morning breeze and heads out.
Across the blue ocean it goes, an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud on the horizon, just where the sea and the sky meet to mingle with each other.
At my side, someone says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as large in mast, sail and hull as when she sailed close by, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. Her diminished size is in my vision alone.
At the moment when someone at my side says, “She is gone”, other eyes watch her coming and other voices take up the glad shout “Here she comes!”.
And that, my friends, is dying.
So now, as we wave goodbye, Dad’s mother and father, his brothers and sisters, and the countless friends and extended family that have sailed before him, take up the glad shout “Here he comes!”. There will be a very big party on the far shore tonight and Dad is the guest of honor.
Dad, enjoy the eternal rewards of a long life well lived; you deserve it; you have earned it. We are heartbroken that you are gone and we will miss you terribly. But don’t worry, we will take good care of Mom, and always remember, as I will, that “if you can catch that and paint it purple I will give you a million bucks”.
Goodbye Dad, we love you!