(no subject)

[przed]

I don't usually post much real life goings on here, but I'm making an exception today. Partly because I need catharsis. Partly because some of you know me in RL and probably would want to know this.

My father died yesterday.

He was 87 and he'd had a long, mostly good life. He was born in a tiny village in Latvia, studied marine engineering in Riga and survived World War II after being shanghaied by the German merchant marine. He immigrated to Canada in the '50s, and was the chief engineer on a Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker for most of my childhood, which meant I didn't see him a lot, but when I did we had a special relationship. He was quiet, and sometimes stern, but also taught me by example a lot about living life without compromise. He taught me to use a hammer when I was four, and a power drill when I was ten. He and my mom always supported my not always entirely practical life choices. (You want to travel through Europe by yourself when you're not even finished university? Sure. You want to go to grad school in film? Okay.) He could build stuff from scratch that I wouldn't have tried with a full kit and instructions. (When he put new duct work in the house he and my mother shared a few years ago, he made his own rivets.) And for most of the twenty-odd years after he retired, he'd get up at five in the morning and go for a long walk to start his day.

But he hadn't been well for some time. And he hadn't been able to do much at all for most of the last year. Which was hard for me to see, and I'm sure harder for him to live with. And then on Saturday morning, his heart finally gave up and he collapsed in my parents' living room and was gone before the paramedics could arrive.

I'm glad I had the privilege of being his daughter. I'm sad I never got to know him as well as I'd have liked to. And I'm very grateful that whatever powers control these things saw that the Sweetie and I were there this weekend so that my mother didn't have to face this on her own.

Here's one of the last pictures I took of him, with his only granddaughter:


The Sweetie and I have come back home tonight, but we're going back up north first thing tomorrow for the funeral and to help my mom out with all the things that need to be done. I don't expect to be online much at all for the next week, but I'll be back sometime soon. (And with a piece of good news that I'm going to wait for a better time to announce.)

Comments

[shooting2kill.livejournal.com]

The way you've written about your dad has impressed and moved me a lot (especially his experiences as a young man) - in fact I almost feel as if I've got to know him in just a few paragraphs. What a character he sounded and what a lovely thing to write about him, that you were privileged to be his daughter.

I hope the funeral goes as well as funerals can and that even with the inevitable sadness you also manage to celebrate his incredible life.

[przed.livejournal.com]

Dad went through an amazing amount of stuff when he was younger. (Before the funeral, mom told me he was one of only three members of his graduating class at the marine school to survive the war. And most of his friends that were still in Latvia during the war didn't make it at all.) I'm just grateful I got to know him as well as I did, even if his loss will always leave a gap in my life.

[shooting2kill.livejournal.com]

I didn't even *know* your dad but that little segment of his life made me feel terribly sad (perhaps because of my parents, too). That generation really were a generation of unsung heroes, weren't they? Experiencing and taking in their stride a degree of loss and upheaval which we can hardly imagine - particularly in the part of the world where your dad had his war.

even if his loss will always leave a gap in my life

I think when you lose people who were close to you a certain part of you goes with them. I used to think this was a negative thing but recently I've come to think the opposite - it's lovely because they're taking something of you with them and so they won't be alone....

And it's so good that he got to know his grand-daughter.

[przed.livejournal.com]

That generation really were a generation of unsung heroes, weren't they?

Absolutely. Both my parents, but especially my dad, went through so much. He grew up on a subsistence level farm, and his dad was a WW I veteran who suffered from shell shock. His mom struggled to raise dad and his brother and sister.. Our generation hasn't had to endure anything even close to them.

it's lovely because they're taking something of you with them and so they won't be alone....

That is indeed a very comforting way to think about it. Thank you.