2 years ago....

My father passed away. His death was caused by a blood clot that travelled from his lung into his heart. He died early in the morning around 4am CST. The events of the day were very hard on me then, and they still are hard on myself, my brother and sister. But mostly, it's very hard on my mother. She has had to carry a burden far and beyond the call of duty for any grieving widow.

It's really hard sometimes to put into words what I am feeling these days. Whenever the subject of my dad comes up, I remember all the good times we had. I remember the sad times too, but I refuse to dwell on them.

My father was a unique guy. We all have our fathers who we respect and admire, but my father was just very different from other fathers I knew. For one, he worked his tail end off so we could have a great house with a pool, satellite dish and a finished basement I helped him with. Though his work took him away from watching me play soccer, I now know that it was because he loved me, not despised me, that he worked so long and so hard for his family.

My father was the center of any party we had at our house, or any party and get together. My mother says that I inherited my fathers generous heart. I didn't believe that until I really started to pay attention to what I was doing at partys and get togethers. I found myself at Polars on SuperBowl weekend doing the same mannerisms as my father did. It sort of spooked me a bit.

My father was a stern disciplinarian. Having been drafted to serve in the Vietnam war, my father was shown the military way of doing things. I argued, spit at, and hit my father countless times as a kid when he told me to do something over again. I didn't know the point of putting my socks in my socks drawer a certain way how that would affect the rest of my life. In retrospect, the act of putting my socks in my sock drawer a certain way didn't affect me, but the attention to detail has.

All fathers look upon their sons and daughters with pride. When I announced to my family that I was going into the Navy out of high school, my father seemed to do a complete 180. Before that time, my mother and father both told me that if I wanted to go to college, that I would have to pay for it. That scared me. I also didn't really feel like living my life in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. I knew that there was a larger world out there, so I agreed to go in with my best friend into the Navy.

Another proud moment that my father had was when I decided to move out east and live in Albany, NY. I had met my future wife on-line back in 1996 after my parents and my sister and brother left to go to Hawaii for a week to celebrate my parents anniversary. I could not go due to work, but I happily sat in front of my computer and started chatting with some girl. We would meet online and just start talking about our day. We exchanged e-mail and then phone numbers. Phone numbers lead to my father asking me who I was talking to in Albany, NY for over 2 hours. So, the introductions started from there. My father really liked my girlfriend. He knew a good thing when he saw it, and he knew I was going to marry her someday.

The most painful and emotional moment came when, in September of '99, I was standing in the driveway with my father going over my map that would take me from Fond du Lac all the way to Albany, NY. I folded up the map, placed it in my car, let my best friend know that we were going to be going (he was driving my dads F-150 loaded down with my posessions and a U-haul trailer), and said to my dad, "Well, I guess this is it." He got teary eyed here. We hugged for a long time. He knew I wasn't coming back home to live ever again. I gave him a pat on the back and told him, "Well, you'll still have those phone calls from Albany." He replied back, "Yeah, but now I'll have to pay for them." I got in my car and headed east.

Man, this is a long post....

September 1, 2001. My wedding day. My wife and I wowed the socks off of my parents and my relatives and friends from back home who made it out to the wedding. If anyone reading this knows what an Italian wedding entails, think of Jed Clampett at one of those. Cheesheads from back home celebrate weddings a bit differently. We tend to split up the dinner and dance. We normally invite relatives and close friends to the dinner, then open up the reception halls for other friends and co-workers for the dance. Well, weddings out east are an entirely different affair. My parents were absolutely wowed by the church. A white marble altar with the same marble surrounding the entire front part of the church. Cherubs and seraphims dotted all over the inside. A huge rotunda in the middle of the church with stained glass. That was where we got married. The reception: 6 course meal, Viennise table, and open bar. Yeah, my country backfolk from home were amazed. I was really glad we decided on the "wow" factor to be instrumental in this wedding. Little did we realize that it would be the last time either one of us saw my father alive.

He died February 13, 2002. He had had surgery done to his knee and was recuperating at home. Mom came home at lunch to see how he was doing. He was complaining that he couldn't breathe and his t-shirt was sopping wet. Rushed to the hospital to find out that a massive blood clot had completely collapsed his right lung and the left one was operating at 50%. The hospital did not have the means to perform the operation to eliviate the clot, so he had to be rushed down to Milwaukee. The winds that day were blowing hard, so the helicopter was not going to be used. He was driven down to Milwaukee with my mother and my sister riding with him. He was admitted and put on IV to see if the clots could break up that way. He would stay overnight and the doctors would see what his condition would be the following day. He said goodnight to my mom and sister.

At 3am the following day, I awoke and had a shiver run down my spine. I knew my father had passed away. I went to work and got the phone call from my mother at 9am EST. My father died with a smile on his face. We kid to this day that some hot nurse came in to administer some more IV and he got a peek up her little nurse skirt. But I believe he knew it was time for him to move on. Things were settled on earth, and the big guy needed his services upstairs. Apparently the old PR director in heaven decided that he had had enough and the big guy needed a replacement.

At least he got a good one.


Robert Floyd Krug
1942 - 2002
"Remembered fondly, his spirit will never die."

 

Just something I had to do.

 

Count on it Rayzor.