I lost my original Father, the day I got adopted in 1965. I lost my adopted Father, Jerry Diener Sr., in 1994.
Harry C. Stark,87, my father-in-law, died gasping for breath while we were attending All Saint’s Day Mass 2013 at our newly renovated Cathedral of St. Jude. He had been battling lung cancer since 2007. His mother died in 2005. His oldest brother died in 2000 and another brother died in 1992. That’s my husband’s family.
This is why I haven’t been blogging that much in the past few days. We have been either out of it or trying to settle Pop’s estate and take care of his house.
Pops as I got to calling him over the last 15 plus years was a good, generous kind guy who told you what he thought. He had a great sense of humor. He was way more Catholic and Christian than most. Every Christmas, Poppa Macho would take us to dinner, “I don’t want ya fussing over me and worrying about whether you got it right or not. Hey, ” his hand would go up, fingers straight, “just sit your ass down and have another glass of wine. ” Then, he would wink like Santa and the Elves at the same time. It was like we are not going to talk about this, but just do as I say and well, if you don’t, I am not going to pay for all this even after I ordered all this crap. Then, his hand went up again, “not now.”
Then, the waiting staff would come over with either dessert or another round of my favorite wine.
This was usually while my husband had his mouth open and was trying still to be polite and teeter tooter emotionally between the two of us.
I have to say it wasn’t always easy to have another Father. My own had been gone a while and their styles were like night and day.
Pops in law was a generous soul, often even more generous than my own Dad who adopted me with my Mom. O yeah, she’s still around and l0oks like 50, while I, the 50 year old look like 30. We eat our vegetables and don’t drink a whole lot.
He had his shortcomings: he partied too much, he drank way more than many and there was other stuff like stubborness which made him, well himself. Yes, it was ’tis himself.
And yes, we were in church after visiting him for the last time at the Veteran’s Nursing facility in St. Petersburg. He was doing so so well up until about the last week or so. That’s when they called us to come quickly and say our last farewell. So, we rushed and there was even the coveted parking spot.
When we got there his breathing was from his stomach and I could tell he was struggling for breath.
And right after we left, while we were at church, he died. There was no drama, no blogger chiding me about ‘Why weren’t you there?” But stupids, hey, it is not about how holy you all are. But it wasn’t. We were already where many of those hypocritical bloggers weren’t: at Mass. Our Mass at our Cathedral in our diocese of St. Petersburg.
And so, we have had the longest week of our lives. We are going to still be foster parents. Why not? We bought all the stuff to do so. And now, more than ever before, we have financial peace because we now have a house to flip and sell.
And yes, all of that “stuff” is still in boxes in what we call “the kid’s room”.
Flipping a house should take us a while. Renovations can happen slow and fast. Pops left us his house. It is “covered in a moneywise way in FULL.” I will never have a mortgage and a ball and chain to make me old. This is after not nervously renting after 15 years. It needs a ton of work done. And we have even thought about what type of house we would like to build after all this is over.
Thanks Pops for all you have done in raising my husband. I am going to continue to be giving and not make a big ass deal about it. I am going to just do it.
That is what got you into heaven. Have fun playing heaven poker with my Dad. It should be fun.
I still have your Royal Flush that you pinned on the wall near your kitchen. I am going to the trophy store and see it can be framed.