My father died last Wednesday. · 4:03pm Jul 5th, 2023
As I type this, it has been one week and about 2 hours. I got the call at 9:05 am that his heart had just stopped, and they called him deceased at 9:48 am. I'd gotten there around 9:40 and I asked why in the hell were they still working on him?
In 2014 I'd gotten hired at PTK airport, working line service. 2015 my grandmother died on July 4th, my father at the time was in the hospital for a severe UTI, so he didn't get to even see her for the whole week she had been admitted to the hospital. Her cancer came back, made it quick on her.
Initially they had called my sister, because the nurse was dyslexic and called the wrong number for me so she was next in line. I was at work, just having my first cup of coffee. I wandered around the hangar with that cup, didn't even touch it. Set it down, told my boss that I think my father just died, and left. The police and medial staff, as well as the Milford Medalodge were very supportive, did what they could, and were a huge help as I coped when I walked into his room.
In 2016 White Lake township served my father a paper, basically saying he had to clean up his back yard. He had over 30 vehicles, 10 boats, a collapsed pole barn, and a lot of other steel. It was his nest egg, when the time was right he'd have it hauled out, make 20k off scrap, and be set for a while. The original inspector had retired, but had a deal with my father. So long as it stayed behind the fence, no worries. This new guy was a prick. He told us we had 30 days to show improvement, and in those days I got 3 cars and 3 trailer loads out. I was filling trailer load number 4 when they showed up, looked around, said nice job but too bad.
The next day a scrap company showed up, started taking whatever they wanted.
The funeral home showed up, I didn't even know who to call so the police officer recommended and called one for me. Wish I'd asked his name, but honestly at the time I would have probably forgotten it anyway. When talking with my sister to meet at the place, I asked the name. Lynch's. I started laughing out loud, freaking the guy out. My father would have gotten a huge laugh out of that.
His eyes were open, I had to close them, but his left eye, the one he had a blind spot in since he was 12, didn't want to cooperate.
It was a mad dash for the next week as I fought to get things we wanted to keep in either the hay barn or the garage.
Then they wanted to take the garage, cause the roof was bad.
Me and my uncle spent an entire day using the siding of the collapsed pole barn to make a roof. They called it "good enough" and left it. So much was taken, stolen, stuff they had no right to take. My father talked with the owner, and the guy ensured him that no problem, and my father would get some money out of it so it wouldn't be a total loss.
The first truck I ever drove, 1989 Chevy truck, standard cab with 8ft bed. I watched them pick it up, crush it, and put it into a dumpster. I didn't even get a chance to empty it out. I wanted that truck.
My sister was on her way to the funeral home, but I had to go back to my fathers house. I knew what he'd wanted to have been burned with. He just got cremated yesterday, issues with the paperwork I guess. He requested a pair of his work clothes, or as he called it his "blue clad ass", a fresh pack of smokes, Marlboro Special Blend (or now they're called Special Select) tall 100's in the red box, and lastly a shot of fireball. Met my sister at the funeral home, she saw him, hadn't seen him in months.
She never brought her daughter, my father's first grandchild, to see him. That was one thing he wanted, so badly, in life.
After about a month, give or take a week, they were done with his back yard. It was empty, barren, save for trees, a car bumper and a door to a school locker that were stuck grown into trees, and the few things we had to argue to nearly the point of gun point that they do. NOT. TOUCH.
Then, they called him, and told him that he wouldn't get any money for the scrap. THEN they told him that HE would have to PAY THEM.
He told them if he ever saw their faces again he's shoot them on sight.
Roughly 20k of scrap metal. Gone. Stolen.
I'm currently fighting them again. Been trying to get the "curb appeal" taken care of. I have to paint the house. Not because they are ordering me to, they can't do that, but if I don't then "everything else will be very miserable for me." My attorney's words.
At the funeral home, my sister said her last goodbye. I'd said mine Tuesday night when I'd seen him. 9:30 pm, I snuck him in a shot of fireball and we chatted. I shook his hand and left for his house for the night, as I stay there half the week to lighten up my drive time and gas.
After they took everything, my father wasn't a happy person. I'd only ever seen him cry once, and that was when his mother, my grandmother, died. After he was home from his botched TURP procedure that left him urinarily incontinent. He had to have a catheter for two years before he had some sort of control.
After the funeral home, my sister and I went out for lunch. The first person I told was the lady at the diner, because she knew my father well. After lunch, I went back to work. It was that, or go to his house and drink myself blind. I did that Thursday night, was hung over all day at work Friday.
2020 happened. This was the last straw for him I think. He was a very outgoing person, always went out for lunch, hung out with the airport crowd. But then, suddenly, it all stopped. Couldn't go out, do anything. He got Covoid a couple times, so did I. First time I thought I was gonna die, but I had to work through it for 7 weeks of absolute Hell while everyone else was home sick, or just didn't want to work.
One day, he just sat down on his couch, and that's where he sat for the next 2 years. I couldn't get him to go out. I'd taken him to doctors, hospitals, nothing was wrong with him. He was fine.
He wasn't. He was depressed, and drinking, and I didn't know what else I could do.
A month ago, I'd left him for the weekend with plenty of water and a plate full of food. I got back to him Monday after work, he'd drank one pint of water and not touched the food. He looked like a mummy on the couch, couldn't even sit up.
I called an ambulance, had him taken to the hospital. He was there for 4 days, then got transferred to the Medalodge.
The first week there was rough for him, but the next two he was eating more, drinking water good, and once they got his UTI under control (he was very prone to them) he could think clearly and actually function somewhat. Still couldn't walk, but he was 107 pounds, from 230 3ish years prior. I visited him every other day, and I worked with him to get things going and taken care of, money, house, airport.
I'd been going around and trying to find all of his tools and equipment he left in people's hangars over the years. He used to be the busiest guy out there. Aircraft jacks, hydraulic mules, etc. I'm almost done, then I just have a half shared hangar with another of his friends to clear out, and I'll be down to his 3 full hangars to start working on.
The will never got done, but my sister is helping as she wasn't involved with him much in life. I told her what he wanted done, she agreed, and now we just got some paperwork to do.
It's the stupid stuff that makes me cry. Walking into one of his hangars for the first time, using his tools, working in my OWN barn the first time I lost it. A couple times at work telling a stupid story that involved me and him. Writing this damn blog post right now.
This fall I'll be going up to the cabin, he wanted his, his mother's, and his sister's ashes spread up there. Several people have expressed interest in being there, mostly his friends from the airport, so we might have a cook out or something. Still unsure. I haven't even been up there since November, for all I know the damn place could be collapsed.
Friday night Wanderer D came by when I was working at my dad's house. I'd gotten a little lawn cut, but by that point I was so shitfaced, we got food from next door, ate, chatted some, then I had some phone calls and I was digging through the livingroom trying to find my grandmother's highschool yearbook from 1948 cause that was the only place I knew had her maiden name. I appreciated him being there, really I do.
Last night Admiral came by and we chatted. He helped me get the last brake line done on my truck. I also appreciated him coming by. I couldn't go into work today, I woke up hung over, tired, and just started crying as I saw the time on my clock as 9:45. I was already beyond late for work, and I'd have an hour drive there. So fuck it. Once done with this blogpost I'm going to go out and finish the truck, then I gotta fix our lawnmower as it took a shit. Still sitting out in the back yard. Left it there out of spite, the bastard.
My father was a drunkard, smoked 2 packs a day since he was 13, and my biggest inspiration in life. He didn't want me to be a airplane mechanic, but I did anyway, so he rolled with it. Once I got my drivers license at 16 I started driving down to work with him on weekends, and summers. I've literally worked on airplanes half of my life. I still don't know a fraction of the things he did, the knowledge he had, my god even drunk off his mind he could tell you things and you'd just go what the fuck.
When doing the obituary, I had only one request. Something he always said to people. Enjoy life, and whatever you do, don't get caught.
I've been thinking of changing my motto here, on this site, to that. M*A*S*H was, and still is, a huge inspiration of my life, and was a fantastic television show. Hopefully Sidney Freeman won't get upset with me if I do.
Fuck. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck this blog post, fuck my life, FUCK YOU WHITE LAKE. I'm keeping the damn house, out of spite. I want to be a thorn in your ass until the day I fucking die, and as you tear down that 1920's farm house I'll be laughing in Hell right beside my father you sacks of shit.
Fuck the ordinances during Covoid, for destroying several of the local businesses we used, and for shutting down the state, and giving people like my father with nothing to do but sit at home, alone, and kill themselves slowly.
Fuck you Bacardi for being my father's drink of choice, and the thousands of bottles I'm having to clean up in that house.
Fuck you Marlboro for being the thing that probably kept my father alive these last 3 years. His lungs were clear as can be, doctors couldn't figure it out.
Fuck you Fimmy Fic for being the only place I can vent and say this crock of shit I'm typing out while cry my eyes out.
Fuck you My Little Pony for changing my life for the better, and giving me such wonderful friends and other people I've met.
And lastly, fuck all of you. I don't deserve any of what I got, these followers, why I'm even "popular", but all the same. I appreciate it, every comment, every reference.
He was born March 9th, 1954, and died June 28th, 2023.
Thank you, and see you next update.
Have fun, and whatever you do, don't get caught.
My condolences to you and your family during this time. I hope you feel better, mate.
Sorry for your loss 🙏
Wishing you well, Rob. Your Pops sounded like a banger of a guy. So glad someone like him was in your life! Take care of yourself, and good luck
I'm so sorry, Rob.
I can't even begin to imagine the pain you're going through, I'm so sorry for your loss.
I’m sorry for your loss, Rob and for all the other things that haven’t gone well. Please take care and know that you have friends here that will always be there for you. *hugs*
God, I'm so sorry. Give yourself time to heal, and cry and scream as much as you need. Never bottle up that feeling.
Fuck the shittiness in this world. Your father was a great man, and he left behind another great. Thank you so much for being here, Rob.
Deepest Sympathies, Rob.
So sorry. Sending hugsl
Sorry for your loss.
Sometimes the only thing one can do is stand by friends when they're going through shit that you can't fix or really help past bringing some beers, getting some food, and talking. I know I'm repeating myself, but anyone with eyeballs can see how much your dad influenced your life and how much you loved him.
I only met him once, and it was around the time I was rebuilding my life... you and your dad chatted with me like we'd all known each other for a while. That, and your stories, are the memories I carry of him with me.
I'm sure he'll be laughing his ass off when you stick it to the man, Rob, and I think I can speak for Admiral on this specific point, but we'll definitely be on the sidelines, pointing and laughing at them too.
Also, fuck you for being the awesome person that you are. You not only deserve every inch of respect and love you got here, you deserve more. Suck it up.
My deepest condolences to you and your loved ones during this time. Take care of yourself, my friend.
My god, Rob, that's...fucking awful. This whole shit, this whole mess, that's so completely and utterly fucked up. And I'm saying that especially as a guy who helped clean up your barn that one time; you looked like you could be a complete fucking maestro with metal. I've always imagined you as a guy who could be a goddamned savant at stripping apart, fixing up and reworking good, solid vehicle parts, and if it's a hereditary thing than fuck me for not being able to see your dad and grandpa in action.
What they did to you, your whole extended family, is a goddamned disgrace and a half and it makes me pissed off just to hear about it. Me. Hell, you know I'm about as soft and effete as fimfic gets, but this shit is a goddamned injustice.
And I don't just mean how they treated your grandfolks' work, fucked them all over before the coffin was good and sunk in, and how they're probably chuckling and splaying their fingers as they think about how to do it to your dad. I mean your grandma dying in the first place, your dad dying in the first place, fucking hearts and bodies giving out on good, solid folks while so much injustice gets to run around scott fucking free and do as it fucking wants.
You deserve better, and if you know they deserve better too then i'll trust your word and throw my middle finger up at the bastards who hurt them.
I wish I could say more. Wish I could be there. Not sure work would approve of me abruptly taking a day trip out to where you are just to deliver a hug and whatever labor you might need at the moment. But...fuck, dude. One of these days, we'll get a beer and you can tell me more and i can be there for a change, like you deserve. 'Cause you deserve so much more than the shit you've gotten recently.
And I know everyone else has already said as much, but...fuck, dude. I'm sorry all this happened. I wish it hadn't.
If you ever want someone to talk to, I'm always an ear and a shoulder open if you want it.
May your dad rest in peace. Take care of yourself, however best you think you need to. You've got my best wishes, for what they're worth, and you'll always have them. Then again, you had 'em before, just saying that nothing's ever changed on that front, and never will.
That sounds fucking horrible. I'm genuinely sorry you've had to go through this shit.
We're a long ways away but still with you, man. Stay strong.
Fuck Rob I'm so sorry. Take your time, feel the grief, much as it fucking sucks.
And like D said, fuck you, you're a good friend and a great human being and you fucking deserve every bit of good press. Fucking deal my love.
Take care of yourself, in spite of all of this. You shouldn't have to go through this.
I don't know what to say. Really there are no words that I can say right now that's going to make it feel any better. That can only come with time.
But believe me, it does come. Slowly.
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My condolences for your loss, Rob. I hope you feel better, and sorry you had to go through all that.
I'm sorry to hear that man, please, take all the time you need, and fuck those Government bitches!
I'm so sorry for your loss. Please take care of yourself anyway you can going through this.
Here’s to you man. You had some hard blows. Family too.
Things can get to you in bad ways, if we let them. That’s something I need to tell myself often. And is the best I can give you over the scrap ordeal.
Condolences, and keep making your father a proud man.
Goddamn.
I'm sorry for your loss, and lament the passing of an amazing man who sounds like he lived every day just to spite death.
Also fuck the White Lake township in particular
I'm so very sorry for your loss, Rob. I lost my Dad years ago and it was devastating. I can't imagine dealing with the extras. Prayers for you and yours.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Give White Lake hell, and go fuck yourself.
.
It's good you were there for him, and it's good you had friends to come around for you.
Sorry to hear about your father, Rob. You have my condolences. I can tell that mere words just can't express how much he meant to you.
And it's awful and absolutely despicable what those low-life scum from White Lake township put you and your family through.
Please take all the time you need and take care of yourself for a while. Then give those jerks the kind of hell that can only be born out of sheer, unadulterated spite.
Sorry to hear about your Dad, Rob.
I know all too well the pain of losing a parent. Lost my mom 1/22/2022. You have my sincerest sympathies and condolences for your loss. Vent all you want, cry, yell, anything, just don't bottle your emotions up, it only makes things worse, trust me, I speak from experience. Take care of yourself man, we'll be here for ya.
I'm so sorry.
And it feels inadequate, but good luck.
Sorry for the loss. And You are an amazing trooper to stick through it and be coherent and strong! Stronger I say.
Not to lessen or subvert your message, I myself was close to this outcome very recently. I was in a terrible terrible crash. The only wound was my brain. Not face, not skin, just brain. I lost near 2 months in a... waking coma. It was labeled severe brain damage. My life could of been stuck on a hospital bed. Or couch. My "coma" phase was unable to talk, swallow, walk, or mostly any higher thought process. No memory of any of this. I woke up a couple weeks ago with zero recovery needed. I completely function as prior to my crash. Besides, the medication, lifestyle change, and muscle/weight change, nothing is out of place in me. So was quickly "released" (haha, irony) But the world sees me as out of place now. Insurance, medical red tape, and even police, are crucifying me in whatever legal documents they can. They don't want me to be normal or productive. For months or years, I'm going to find out I suppose. My job was driving but I'm suspended from driving until proven healthy (i guess being released doesn't count). I'm stubborn, and have a stick it to the man personality. So I should be fine. But I wonder if I will be lost in "legalities, red tape, and loopholes" so I will never be free again. And be it either that, or just if the struggle was even worth it in the end. Then I would wonder if me "waking" was a divine prank/punishment. I hated everything before, and did not meet others easily to be friends. MLP:FIM was the one bright light. I got 3 close friends. My candle flames in the rain, to share a phrase. But I let those dim and get distant because life happens, and they followed their dreams. I woke like I "slept". Alone, fighting what can't be seen or won against. But still too stubborn or dumb to give up.... to be caught. I really do love that phrase now. Sorry for the lore dump. And mood killing. I'm just living it, screaming inside since I can't know the future of this, and it's weighted very heavy on choices. And I just never liked having a complicated life and avoided things that would.