Two dead guys named Bob this week

[Toecutter]

I had just gotten to sleep Sunday night at work, when the station telephone rang at 11:30p.m. That usually meant we had to cover the station in the town west of us. So I got up and opened my bedroom door, just in time for my captain to open his across the hall, and hand me the cordless.

"Bob, it's your mother. Your dad died tonight".

I'll never understand the need to inform people of events like this during normal sleeping hours. If I could have resurrected him, sure, I'll be right there.

"You're sister wants to know when you guys can leave for Reno."

"Not right now, I'm at work. Call me in the morning."

"Do you know when you might be able to go?"

"No, I just found out about it 15 seconds ago."

So, I end the call, mention it to the weary-eyed firefighter who stumbled out into the hallway to find out why the phone rang, and go lay back down, optimistically hoping for some more rest before what was shaping up to be a long week.

Within a minute, my cell phone starts ringing. First the ER doc, then my sister, followed by a text "R U up?" from my wife, so I call her back. Soon after a short chat is complete, some organ vulture calls me. WTF? Now, it's 1:00a.m., and I'm laying there, unable to sleep, with six hours to go before I get off duty. I'm saving my two shifts of bereavement leave for full days, and why cause all the hassle of calling for a replacement this late anyway?

So, after about two hours of dozing, I roll out to make some coffee and wait for my relief to show up. It was discussed, and I told Eve to go ahead and go to work, as I wouldn't be able to drive to Reno until after some more rest anyway. So, as I rode up and saw her car missing from the garage as the door rolled up, I thought "Good, maybe I can get a nap in today." Not.

I pressed the button to receive a new message on the answering machine. "Honey, I didn't go to work today. Uncle Jerry (who was at home nearby, dying of cancer) slipped into a coma last night and is unresponsive. I'm over there, but there's coffee made."

So, I filled my travel mug with home-brew, and saddled back up for the hop to her aunt's place. Since Eve's been without parents for almost 20 years (a whole 'nother tragic story), these people have been the surrogates, so she was about to lose her second father. We spent the entire day over there. I ended up getting a short nap in Jerry's favorite recliner, and it was good.

Uncle Jerry passed Tuesday morning, just before we left for Reno. Our visit to my dad in the hospital morgue later that day really put the finishing touch on a Twilight Zone couple of days.

Spending two days sorting through Dad's stuff, talking to his friends and cleaning out his apartment really was cathartic for me. Bob Sr. never got nominated for father of the year, but through a combination of sincere love, good intentions, and bad examples, helped make me into the person I'm proud to call myself as a result.

The worst regret I have is that Sunday morning, I forgot to take my charged-up second cell phone battery to work, and as I spoke to Eve in the morning, the phone beeped that the battery was getting low. So, thinking I needed to conserve juice, I didn't call him, as I would have if I took the second battery. Ironically, the battery never beeped again that day, even through the calls after midnight on Monday.

Looking back, it wouldn't have made that much difference. One rarely has the opportunity to know that the current conversation is the last one you'll ever have with that person, so we both knew where we stood with each other, just in case. It would have just been more of the usual small talk, with a possible dash of depressing update on the deterioration of his health and some more of his sage wisdom and quick, funny wit, not necessarily in that order.

So, I've been promoted from Bob Jr. to Bob Sr., and I thank him for helping to create me. Love you Dad. RIP, Vaya con Dios. :bye2:

Here's a little bit of advice I got from a friend, on regrets and what matters in life. The text is six years old, but the message is timeless:

Bob wrote:> I have a friend that I met when he sold us a spa. I stopped by there the other day.

> His nephew was there, and told me Tom had been killed two weeks ago in a car crash by a guy who blew a stop sign.

> Tom is an interesting guy

> We are going to his shop tomorrow to try

> and gain some closure and help if we can.

> It's hard to

> lose a friend, especially this way.

> That's always been a source of worry for me. What if one of my friends

> dies and I don't find out?

Good advice: Worry about the things over which you can have some control. I know this doesn't diminish the concern, but there is truly only one available solution; stay in touch. Communication, is the only way to inoculate yourself against this worry. Even so, it will only work to such extent that it is reasonable to pursue it. Beyond that point is where, "**** happens".

Find a level of involvement that you are comfortable with (and is not too creepy) and live it. If something happens outside the framework of what you can reasonably expect to accomplish, while living your own life, find a (healthy) way to compensate. There's nothing you can do for Tom. I suspect Tom would frown upon your dwelling too heavily on this.

> Well, it just happened. In the end, it doesn't

> even matter to them but we are left with the emptiness and guilt for

> missing the event. Tom was a genuine good guy. This morning, I was doing

> my obligatory Association President duty in my monkey suit for a guy I

> hardly knew, and this afternoon I had genuine mourning and sorrow for a

> good friend stolen from me by the way **** happens. I suppose it's a bit

> selfish to feel slighted by the circumstances, but it doesn't alleviate

> the helplessness to dismiss the event as "circumstances beyond my

> control".

Having forsaken the notion of my immortality long ago, I too have spent a fair amount of time pondering this question of an unannounced death. Coming from such a dysfunctional and widely distributed (geographically) family, my thoughts focused a little more on, "What if I'm the one that goes **** up?" Well, you know what? I don't want people that never had time for me in life, to drop what they're doing and travel cross country to witness a ceremony designed to make them feel better.

Even as I sit here in relative good health, I can honestly say that I only have two things that I would like to say to the people that fall into this category, "**** You" and "Piss Off". How better to do it than to deny them the opportunity of attending a ceremony, that is for them anyway? I think many thoughtful people that pass without having provided for the proper arrangements, share a version of this sentiment.

Maybe my version sounds a little harsh, but consider for a moment April 1st marked the 8th anniversary of my last day with Monroe County, in Florida (not a coincidence). In that period I have gone from being at the top of my field to where I sit tonight, without so much as a feigned intervention by anyone that would call themselves my "family" or my "friend". In truth, only a handful of people have continued their association with me throughout this period. Oh, how I treasure them.

You see, the preceding paragraph isn't an expression of bitterness at all. Rather, I describe an epiphany. In many ways, during this period, I died. The old, naive Andy that went before is most certainly dead. He who remains knows something of the world and the people in it, that I can't say for certain the old Andy would have ever discovered.

I know what matters, to me. As simple and fundamental a statement as that is, most people never discover the answer until they face the inevitable. We all spend a lifetime lying to ourselves about what matters to us, but when you find yourself unable to move, about to draw your last breath, that is when you really know what matters.

So returning to the subject of Tom and funerals; what can a dead man really want? Rest assured, a dying man wants plenty. A dead man however, wants for nothing. He has everything he has ever really had and everything he will ever have with him right there at that moment. He has two things: he has his thoughts; and he has all of the time that is left to him.

The question then, is what can you really want at that moment? This is the question I've put to myself and the answer, as truth always seems to be, is simple.

All I really want, is to know that I was loved. In the time left to me, I want to immerse myself in it. I want to reflect on the bounty that has been provided me, in my lifetime, in terms of the love given and received. In such a moment, what else could matter? Where is the purpose in worry, remorse, regret? Certainly, some may have lived a life where these themes predominate. These are the ones that have saved awareness for their last moments. It is sad for them that they are left only with the shallow and superficial at the moment of truth, but that is them.

Having experienced a form of "death" without the added nuisance of actually dying, I choose to live my life differently. When my end does arrive, I will want nothing more than to know I was loved. I can measure this among the people that choose to share their lives with me. In a very literal sense, my concern does not extend beyond them.

Time is the most precious thing we possess. In my view, the way we spend it provides the measure of the man. So, the guest list at my funeral doesn't really say anything to me. My appointment book from the previous year, on the other hand, will mean everything to me. In it resides fresh memories of love and loving and of time spend in its pursuit. What more could there be?

Returning again to Tom, in my limited knowledge of the human body, I am generally aware that it is extraordinarily difficult, outside Israel, to snuff out life in an instant. In layman's terms, I also understand that most trauma associated with fatal injuries so overwhelm our capacity to sense pain that in a real sense, we don't even feel it.

Setting aside religious perspectives for the moment, it has long been my belief that the act of dying is so far removed from physical sensation that the only thing remaining is thought and time. In the time left to our increasingly oxygen deprived brains, I think we know what has happened, what is happening, and what it means. I think only the most shallow of us actually dwell on the moment. Once we know the truth of it, I believe we are left to ponder the things that were important to us in life.

Certainly, some choose to focus on what lies ahead. But we have a way of stretching time when we are experiencing an acute adrenaline response to stress (to me, death qualifies). In general, I think the dying person has plenty of time, most of the time, to consider everything that is important to them. It's in this interval, that I am confident Bob was well remembered. Who else offered so much kindness, generosity, and friendship late in Tom's life? You needn't have been the only ones. It's just that the number is always small, for all of us.

So I believe that your love and your friendship was well marked by Tom in his final moments. I struggle to accept that someone, for whom you would have such high regard, would squander any of his precious few remaining moments worrying for an instant who would be in attendance at his funeral. You may not have been at the funeral, but you were in his heart for as long as it mattered. What higher honor can be bestowed on a person?

My counsel then, is to reflect on the blessing of his friendship. Dwell on the gratitude you must feel, that you were able to do the things that you did for Tom at a time when we was able to appreciate them and know that he was loved. The acts of kindness, the acts of friendship you offered to me as examples of your relationship with Tom are the only things of import that any of us leave behind. With this currency, look at the wealth Tom has left with you. Look at how you used this currency to enrich his life. Look at how his nephew and most others who may have claimed to love him, lost the opportunity for enrichment and will be forever paupers by this measure.

> Anyway, thanks for the virtual shoulder to lean on. Next time you gaze up

> at the expansive Arizona sky, know that the energy of a good soul has been

> released to enhance the view. Try not to take too much for granted, Bro'.

> Look after yourself,

>

> Bob

I'll do those things, if you'll do these:

Take a moment to gaze into the CFC-free California sky and know that the energy of a good soul, a knowing soul, is smiling down on you as we speak, with a kindness that reflects the fellowship offered him in life.

Take a deep breath and feel the goodness of Tom's memory wash away the burden in your heart.

Go get a good night's sleep and start tomorrow with a fresh perspective that lives untouched by the uncaring ignorance of those who save awareness for the moment of truth.

Andy

The other Bob I mourned this week was Sgt Robert T Rapp, 22, of Sonora, CA, killed in action in Afghanistan on March 3rd, 2008

Reading the PGR Forum topic, I got the impression that "the ball had been dropped" by those in charge of our participation. I even Googled up the time of services, so I could let our local riders know what time we needed to leave town in order to make the timetable.

I arrived at the local staging point, to a vacant parking lot. One other guy had let me know he was going to ride, but he was having trouble finding the right place. One other rider showed up while I was waiting for departure time, so at 0645 hours, the three of us (one FJR, one Goldwing, one Harley) hit the road toward Sonora.

Nothing could be further from the truth than the "dropped ball" theory I was conjuring. Riding toward the funeral home for the escort to the church on the main street, there was an electric construction sign that read "Public Event Today. Expect Traffic Delays and Heavy Pedestrian Traffic". It didn't even cross my mind at the time, but the sign was for the impending PGR escort and eventual procession after the service! I've been to a number of these deals, but nothing could prepare me for what I experienced yesterday.

When we arrived at the funeral home, there were no less than 40 bikes staged for the escort. Apparently, the word had gotten out. We left for the church, escorted by a CHP car, and leading the limo and hearse. As we turned onto Sonora's main street, I lost it. The street was choked on both sides with people standing there with flags and signs of support, many saluting, many crying. I guess the pushed-back emotion from the past week would wait no longer. Luckily, we were only going a walking pace, so it wasn't too hard to safely operate the controls.

This parade environment lasted the whole two miles to the church, and afterward, most of the four or five miles to the cemetery. Sonora held nothing back for their hometown Hero, and I was left with the overwhelming feeling that this show of support should set the standard for what every brave fallen service member should receive in every community. I later found out, during the service, that most of this was the doing of the local PGR ride captain and his wife, who went on a media blitzkrieg to get the word out and encourage the support of their fellow townspeople. The service itself was even broadcast live on a local AM radio station. We all (PGR) gathered around Goldwing's in the parking lot and listened along.

The VFW had staged an impressive display upon our arrival at the cemetery, and full military honors were given. If I had to guess, I'd bet I saw nearly ten thousand flags yesterday.

I was left with the overwhelming feeling that Sonora must be a great place to live, and they really "get it" when it comes to their community. Jesus gave no more than these American Patriots, and it's uplifting to see them get their just dignity and support. I wouldn't have missed it for anything, and was blessed & honored to be able to attend, as the only FJR represented.

[Gloat]I had the nicest flag mount. Pics in the not-too distant future.[/Gloat]

 

[twowheelnut]

Geeze, Bob... I seldom shed a tear, but this news is making them flow. Godspeed to your Dad and Eve's Uncle. Know that you both are in my thoughts.

 

[James Burleigh]

Hi, Toe. I'm very sorry to hear about your dad, who meant so much to you. In this post awhile back I tried to capture my feelings about the importance in our lives of dads (of my dad). Best, Hans

 

[Bearly Flying]

Sorry to hear that, Bob. My thoughts are with You and Eve.

 

[pickax]

TC

Keeping you in my thoughts, take care.

 

[GunMD]

Bob and Eve...I'm so sorry for your losses this week. My thoughts are with both of you. I'm sure it's a very tough time but you're both great folks and strong people...that will help you get through these tough times.

My best to both of you and your families.

Scott

(And when I speak to Nick I'm sure he'll send his best, too...he still talks about that pizza place in Clovis that you two shared w/ us).

 

[Tyler]

Thank you for sharing that. Your friend's words touched my heart and spirit as did your account of the PGR event. Wishing you healing in your heart for your losses.

 

[ShinyPartsUp]

God Bless to both you and your wife. A really tough time indeed, and it sounds very much like your dad did a great job. Prayers said.

 

[Khunajawdge]

Bob -

Condolences to both you and Eve.

Nice that you shared your thoughts with us, you must consider us here on this forum, more than just acquaintances?

 

[03HiYoSilver]

Toe,

Just want to say how much my thoughts are with you and your families...just went thru the same event last week myself. My heart feels one thing and my head the other. He was in pain (couldn't breathe for several months) and now he does not have to and is now in a better place. And like you, we tolerated each other but I still miss him for the years of education in life.

(Last time I saw him last fall, he took a ride with me on the FJR and loved it! What a brave soul.)

Hopefully you will get a respit in life after this deluge of losses... I am still looking for mine.

Special Thanks for Service with our Patriots coming home.

 

[uctofeej]

Toe, my thoughts and prayers are with you and Eve.

 

[madmike2]

Bob & Bren,

You know I know....and you know I care. You both have a special place in this man's heart and I'll be carrying you around in there trying to share "the load", knowing the deepest grieving process is yet to come.

M

 

[wheatonFJR]

Thanks for sharing Toecutter...

...hope unexpected grace visits your home sometime soon.

 

[Ric in Sac]

I'm sorry TC. I will keep you and Eve in my prayers.

 

[Bustanut joker]

Bob, Sorry to read the sad news. Both of you are in my thoughts, and prayers.

Barry

 

[1FJR]

Sorry to hear of your loss.

Neal

 

[Zorlac]

I'm sorry to read this, you have my prayers and condolences.

Mark.

 

[Toecutter]

Nice that you shared your thoughts with us, you must consider us here on this forum, more than just acquaintances?

This place is pretty much the extent of my social network, other than a few co-workers. And from what I've seen and experienced of this crowd, going on almost three years now, after joining when this place was three days old, it has to be one of the best and most real communities out there.

"The Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight. It's drawn the finest people." - Stephen

Thank you all, from both of us, for your thoughts of support.

 

[painman]

Wow Bob, just read this and as the others I'm very sorry to hear of your lose of both dads. This is a tough time indeed that words cannot describe. But just to say I'm praying for you and Eve and the rest of the family and friends involved. God's blessings. Del. <><