A Grasp of Everything
Happy Birthday Dad!
He was a force of nature. So roaring a spirit that I still can’t fathom how something as terse and mute as death inserted itself into his life.
This is the story of our dad, Fred Kelp.
For dad, mom, and my sisters.
Part One
Today is our dad’s birthday… February 16th. He would have been 85. He was a force of nature. So roaring a spirit that I still can’t fathom how something as terse and mute as death inserted itself into his life. I could recite some special things about him, say “happy birthday,” and then get on with my life but that just furthers the ache of unresolve. Logic says I have to acknowledge his death but I feel I have to acknowledge his life. I have to write it; when you write it, it immortalizes a person…which is soothing to your soul. Then death isn’t followed by a period, it’s followed by a comma. I have a dream of his life for over a half century that I knew him that I can’t just let fade away. I promised myself that beginning today, he’ll be more than memories and ashes in the urn.
This is part one of the story of his life as I knew it; the only perspective I have to offer. While it’s my intent to acknowledge his life, I do have to start with his death. I also have to tell you about it because it’s the reason I’m here in Michigan. When he died, almost 4 years ago, I came to Michigan from Arizona to be with my mom and to help her with the things you have to do when someone dies; a crash course for me. There were also the financial affairs and business that dad had always handled. And so many things that had to be taken care of. Our mom has a condition from which she only has peripheral vision in both eyes so there are just certain things she can’t do. Aside from that small handicap, she’s very strong and able for her age; stronger than my sisters and me for that matter.
I vividly remember the frantic voicemail left by her that dad had collapsed, and they had taken him to the hospital, and all the details she sobbed into the message.
My youngest sister and I booked the next flight out to Michigan, which was a red-eye, thinking we would be coming here to support our mom and watch over our dad while he recovered in the hospital. But instead, we were called by the surgeon while waiting for our flight and told that our father had passed away. Those words were so unfathomable that they simply didn’t get through; we just whimpered a little, said okay, and thanked him for calling. Then we looked at each other and a jolt of reality brought the pain and tears. The surgeons words seared into my heart and I felt a heightened sense of urgency to get to our mom.
It was an agonizing wait, followed by a long flight with a connection in Chicago, and then a long drive from Kalamazoo to Albion; our aunt and uncle had picked us up. When we arrived early in the morning, some of our aunts were with our mom, thankfully. She was moving around the house and talking but her eyes were fixed in a state of shock. She was clearly traumatized.
Mom said he had walked down the stairs and into the dining room to get coffee as usual and she heard a loud crash. When she went to investigate, she saw his feet through the entryway. He was lying on the dining room floor.
She had desperately tried to give him CPR but couldn’t get his mouth open because his jaw was clenched and he was foaming. The ambulance came and paramedics worked on him for a very long time she said. They had to ask her to take away their little dog who frantically tried to protect him from them. They took dad to the Jackson hospital and then flew him to Ann Arbor for surgery where he was pronounced dead. He had a torn aorta; there was nothing she or anyone could have done to help him. He also had a severe lung infection.
While we were here that first trip, I noticed his trailer in the garage (the garage that they were building) was half full of OSB board. He had only unloaded half of it and sometimes I wonder if the pressure of unloading that heavy board for an 81-year-old man is what caused his aorta to tear. He was so strong though; stronger than men half his age. I had spoken to him on the phone 3 days earlier and he was so excited to have finally gotten all the OSB board he needed to finish enclosing the garage. He was more excited about that than the fact that it was their 58th wedding anniversary that day. He sounded so happy and confident, so himself! Neither of us aware he only had three more days to live.
Although he was kept alive on life support while they took his body away… I think he really passed over here at home, I think his soul stayed right here. It was as palpable as it ever was when things calmed down.
I’ve told you about his death… now I’d like to tell you about his life.
To be continued….
