We mourn because we have had the privilege of being loved…
How wonderful for you to have experienced unconditional love with your father-in-law. Unconditional love is rare, although I wish everyone could experience true unconditional love in their lives.
You are honoring Ken each time you think of him, and search for his reactions to what you are doing.
What a great honor for Ken that you keep him alive in your heart, and in the hearts of your spouse and children.
Chris - BTW - had to laugh - when I saw your reference to "Don't know what you've got/until it's gone", I thought you were referring to Joni Mitchell's 1970 song, "Big Yellow Taxi". Even though Mitchell was referring to environmental concerns, the words are quite similar, and fit your narrative quite well:
"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone?"
I am sure my thinking immediately of the 1970 reference (and frankly not recognizing the 1988 song by Cinderella) has to do with my age - relative to your age - as Morris Massey said, "What you are is where you were when."
Chris, your personal posts are always very meaningful. I always appreciate the way you share. I very much appreciate the loving description you write of Ken. I'm a grandpa now (the little ones call me "Po"), and I aspire to be a similar presence in their lives. I don't want to be taken for granted, but I aspire to be that rock-solid of a presence that I AM taken for granted. I love my grandchildren so much. It sounds like Ken was a wonderful role model. Perhaps one way to honor him is to aspire to be as nurturing as he was. Perhaps it's your turn now? Regardless, as you observe, if one has a "Ken" in their lives, that is a precious thing. Thanks for sharing, Chris.
My mum passed away 3 years ago and this resonates deeply, Chris. I’ve found a way to find joy when I miss my mum - just to pause and be thankful for the memory or the thing that made me think of her. At first I hoped I’d stop missing her because it hurt so much. Now I’m thankful when I miss her because it’s a chance to remember how awesome she was. It’s a journey man. But damn, what I’d give for one more phone call.
what another beautiful tribute to your father in law, Chris. My mom’s been gone for 10 years now and it isn’t easy at all, the older I get the more I miss her. She was sick for 9 years so we knew what was coming, although, didn’t make it any easier. My dad passed away last year, age 87, although he passed away from suicide (gun), therefore, unexpected and the hole is huge for him and feel I didn’t get to say goodbye. I am comforted that at the end of each phone call, we said “I Love You” to each other. Right now, we are reeling from the death of a young man, age 30, that we known since he was 3. He grew up with my son, along with his 2 brothers. He was an avid bicyclist and a distracted driver plowed into him, killing him. This young man was a gifted student, got perfect scores on his SATs, Eagle Scout, received Order of the Arrow in scouts, gifted musically, early admission into Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, double majored and excelled in his job. We went to his celebration of life this weekend and we all said the same thing: Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, hold your loved ones close. Life is too short.
I can tell you that even if you'd had three years knowing it was coming and would definitely happen, to prepare for it, it wouldn't have been enough. Do check around your edges for depression. I realized that was a problem for me when the hole was (fortunately) only half-deep.
May every child be loved as Ken loved you and your family. You have an example, try to follow it as best you can. This essay made me cry remembering the Kens in my life. Thanks.
Beautiful! My Irish Mom died on St Patrick's day, 10 yrs ago. You will get more days of smiles than tears, and when the tears come, they are the good kind. Chris, i hope you someday find out that you have a lot of people who wish you the best. I know you do, we all have more than we know. Thanks for the reminder of how important we are to each other.
While your political writing is what drew me here, it is these personal stories that I find most appealing. I read this one through teary eyes thinking of my mother, father, and stepfather who I miss dearly. Chris, please keep these personal stories coming and consider writing a book full of them.
Yes, it's your turn to be present to those you love. It's a legacy that's worth more than a name on a building. As the years go on, you'll hear Ken's voice--listen to it. You may even see something that tells you: 'Ken's out there'. Not trying to be mystical, but these things happen and I hope you can be open to them. My Dad's views (and, boy, did he have them!) still inform me today. At some point, you will see/hear something that Ken would have liked or remarked on, and you will remember him, and that remembering won't bring you pain. And that's OK.
I understand what you’re saying. I lost my mom when I was 15, I’m now 53 and I still think about her everyday. It never goes away, but it does get easier or at least the pain softens. Keep up the great work.
Chris, this is so touching. I remember you writing about Ken last year when he passed. I
lost my dad 66 years ago this April. He was a 32 year old engineer on the submarine USS Thresher, along with 128 other men, which was lost at sea during a Cold War trial run. I was 8, sister 5, and mom pregnant with our brother. You never get over it but I am a lucky to have memories. ❤️I remember my dad too as one of the good ones.
We mourn because we have had the privilege of being loved…
How wonderful for you to have experienced unconditional love with your father-in-law. Unconditional love is rare, although I wish everyone could experience true unconditional love in their lives.
You are honoring Ken each time you think of him, and search for his reactions to what you are doing.
What a great honor for Ken that you keep him alive in your heart, and in the hearts of your spouse and children.
Thanks for the post - really appreciated.
Chris - BTW - had to laugh - when I saw your reference to "Don't know what you've got/until it's gone", I thought you were referring to Joni Mitchell's 1970 song, "Big Yellow Taxi". Even though Mitchell was referring to environmental concerns, the words are quite similar, and fit your narrative quite well:
"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone?"
I am sure my thinking immediately of the 1970 reference (and frankly not recognizing the 1988 song by Cinderella) has to do with my age - relative to your age - as Morris Massey said, "What you are is where you were when."
Chris, your personal posts are always very meaningful. I always appreciate the way you share. I very much appreciate the loving description you write of Ken. I'm a grandpa now (the little ones call me "Po"), and I aspire to be a similar presence in their lives. I don't want to be taken for granted, but I aspire to be that rock-solid of a presence that I AM taken for granted. I love my grandchildren so much. It sounds like Ken was a wonderful role model. Perhaps one way to honor him is to aspire to be as nurturing as he was. Perhaps it's your turn now? Regardless, as you observe, if one has a "Ken" in their lives, that is a precious thing. Thanks for sharing, Chris.
That was just damn beautiful.
We got a piece of you in our lives and really appreciate you.
You're a good man.
My mum passed away 3 years ago and this resonates deeply, Chris. I’ve found a way to find joy when I miss my mum - just to pause and be thankful for the memory or the thing that made me think of her. At first I hoped I’d stop missing her because it hurt so much. Now I’m thankful when I miss her because it’s a chance to remember how awesome she was. It’s a journey man. But damn, what I’d give for one more phone call.
what another beautiful tribute to your father in law, Chris. My mom’s been gone for 10 years now and it isn’t easy at all, the older I get the more I miss her. She was sick for 9 years so we knew what was coming, although, didn’t make it any easier. My dad passed away last year, age 87, although he passed away from suicide (gun), therefore, unexpected and the hole is huge for him and feel I didn’t get to say goodbye. I am comforted that at the end of each phone call, we said “I Love You” to each other. Right now, we are reeling from the death of a young man, age 30, that we known since he was 3. He grew up with my son, along with his 2 brothers. He was an avid bicyclist and a distracted driver plowed into him, killing him. This young man was a gifted student, got perfect scores on his SATs, Eagle Scout, received Order of the Arrow in scouts, gifted musically, early admission into Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, double majored and excelled in his job. We went to his celebration of life this weekend and we all said the same thing: Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, hold your loved ones close. Life is too short.
So sorry for your losses.💐
I can tell you that even if you'd had three years knowing it was coming and would definitely happen, to prepare for it, it wouldn't have been enough. Do check around your edges for depression. I realized that was a problem for me when the hole was (fortunately) only half-deep.
I am sure he would be beyond honored by the tribute!
This is really beautiful. If only we all could stir such fond memories when we pass.
May every child be loved as Ken loved you and your family. You have an example, try to follow it as best you can. This essay made me cry remembering the Kens in my life. Thanks.
Beautiful! My Irish Mom died on St Patrick's day, 10 yrs ago. You will get more days of smiles than tears, and when the tears come, they are the good kind. Chris, i hope you someday find out that you have a lot of people who wish you the best. I know you do, we all have more than we know. Thanks for the reminder of how important we are to each other.
Ang
While your political writing is what drew me here, it is these personal stories that I find most appealing. I read this one through teary eyes thinking of my mother, father, and stepfather who I miss dearly. Chris, please keep these personal stories coming and consider writing a book full of them.
Yes, it's your turn to be present to those you love. It's a legacy that's worth more than a name on a building. As the years go on, you'll hear Ken's voice--listen to it. You may even see something that tells you: 'Ken's out there'. Not trying to be mystical, but these things happen and I hope you can be open to them. My Dad's views (and, boy, did he have them!) still inform me today. At some point, you will see/hear something that Ken would have liked or remarked on, and you will remember him, and that remembering won't bring you pain. And that's OK.
The signs of presence certainly there to be see.
I understand what you’re saying. I lost my mom when I was 15, I’m now 53 and I still think about her everyday. It never goes away, but it does get easier or at least the pain softens. Keep up the great work.
La Cheeserie
Chris, this is so touching. I remember you writing about Ken last year when he passed. I
lost my dad 66 years ago this April. He was a 32 year old engineer on the submarine USS Thresher, along with 128 other men, which was lost at sea during a Cold War trial run. I was 8, sister 5, and mom pregnant with our brother. You never get over it but I am a lucky to have memories. ❤️I remember my dad too as one of the good ones.
Sounds like a wonderful man. Big hugs to you.
My dad's name was also Ken. I also lost him last year. He, too, was one of the good ones. This brought a smile on a rather tough day. Here is his obituary: https://passages.winnipegfreepress.com/passage-details/id-314103/CRAIG_KEN