You will grieve, but your grief will suddenly turn to wonderful joy when you see me again. You have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy.
John 16: 20, 22
John 16: 20, 22
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
One Year Ago Today
A year ago today, it was a Friday. I left work at 11:30am. I went to look at a house in Shakopee. I talked to Chris on the drive home...I really liked this house. He left work early to meet me at home. We were excited about being done early from work, and about being with my family for my dad's 50th birthday. It was going to be a really fun, celebratory weekend. I stopped at the store and picked us up sandwich fixings for lunch. We ate together and packed some things so we could stay at my parent's house for the weekend. We left our place around 2:45 to pick my brother up from his work Christmas party at the Earl Browne Heritage Center.
We were sitting in front of the building, waiting for my brother when Chris received a call on his cell phone. Completely out of character for him, he answered it, even though it was an unknown number. I turned the radio down and heard pieces of what the man on the other end was saying. I heard Chris' responses. "No, I've been out of the country and haven't talked to him for a few weeks." And then I heard the man say, "they did everything they could to save him." and Chris turned to me and said, "He fucking died." As he kept listening to the man on the other end, I lost my shit. Completely and totally lost it. I couldn't breathe. I was shaking. I was crying and uttering things. It was unreal and to this day I feel almost embarassed about it. I handed a pen to Chris so he could write down some info, my hand shaking so badly I couldn't believe it was actually my hand. He was so calm. It was so unreal.
I got out of the car and tried to call my brother to tell him to come out of the building so we could leave. He didn't answer. I called my mom at work and told her. Chris called his mom at work and told her too. I got back in the car and my brother called Chris' phone from inside the party and said, "This is the GREATEST day EVER!!! Guess what just happened!!" and Chris told him "I can't talk right now" and handed the phone to me. I told Jason to come outside right now, and he couldn't really hear me, and I started screaming "Chris' dad died!! CHRIS' DAD IS DEAD!!!!" Jason hung up and came outside a few seconds later acting really quiet - it turns out he thought I said "Dad died."
I wish I could say the rest of the night was a blur, but it wasn't. I remember everything.
We drove from the Christmas party to my parent's house. We called my dad from the house on his cell phone - he was just leaving the funeral of a co-worker. Some 50th birthday.
I called back the number that had called Chris (the Hennepin County Investigator from the Medical Examinors Office) and had him re-tell the story and find out where Ron was. It turned out he was 1 mile away at North Memorial Hospital. He had been brought in at around 8:30 by the ambulance and was pronounced dead a little after 11:00 am. Apparently many attempts were made to bring him back, but none of them worked. He was never concious after collapsing on the side of the road. I was told that we could go to view his body at the hospital and was asked what time we wanted to come. We decided to go at 5:30.
When we arrived at the hospital we were ushered into a small waiting room outside the ER. A nurse came in and explained again what happened and asked if we had any questions. We didn't really know what to ask, we just kind of sat there.
Then they brought us to another area with chairs and pointed to the Sunset Room (I remember thinking, what a fucking stupid name for the room) and said, he is in there when you're ready.
Chris and I walked in and Ron was laying under a sheet that stopped at his shoulders. He didn't look like himself at all. He wasn't wearing his glasses, his watch, anything that he usually was. His mouth was slightly open and his hair was messed up. We didn't understand how this could be happening. It is still sometimes unreal.
It's been one year ago today since life changed; since Chris lost his dad, since we realized how fragile life is. It's hard to remember what it was like before. Many things have changed, but one thing remains the same - the love you feel and the good memories you've made stay with you and sustain you through the hard times.
Thank you, Ron, for the gift of your son. He is a great, kind and loving husband. Because of the father you were to him, he will be an amazing one to our kids someday. I only wish you could be here to take part in our lives - to see our first house, to help with the remodel, to be proud of your son for his accomplishments.
I know you are still here in spirit - and that you are smiling down on us. We love and miss you.
We were sitting in front of the building, waiting for my brother when Chris received a call on his cell phone. Completely out of character for him, he answered it, even though it was an unknown number. I turned the radio down and heard pieces of what the man on the other end was saying. I heard Chris' responses. "No, I've been out of the country and haven't talked to him for a few weeks." And then I heard the man say, "they did everything they could to save him." and Chris turned to me and said, "He fucking died." As he kept listening to the man on the other end, I lost my shit. Completely and totally lost it. I couldn't breathe. I was shaking. I was crying and uttering things. It was unreal and to this day I feel almost embarassed about it. I handed a pen to Chris so he could write down some info, my hand shaking so badly I couldn't believe it was actually my hand. He was so calm. It was so unreal.
I got out of the car and tried to call my brother to tell him to come out of the building so we could leave. He didn't answer. I called my mom at work and told her. Chris called his mom at work and told her too. I got back in the car and my brother called Chris' phone from inside the party and said, "This is the GREATEST day EVER!!! Guess what just happened!!" and Chris told him "I can't talk right now" and handed the phone to me. I told Jason to come outside right now, and he couldn't really hear me, and I started screaming "Chris' dad died!! CHRIS' DAD IS DEAD!!!!" Jason hung up and came outside a few seconds later acting really quiet - it turns out he thought I said "Dad died."
I wish I could say the rest of the night was a blur, but it wasn't. I remember everything.
We drove from the Christmas party to my parent's house. We called my dad from the house on his cell phone - he was just leaving the funeral of a co-worker. Some 50th birthday.
I called back the number that had called Chris (the Hennepin County Investigator from the Medical Examinors Office) and had him re-tell the story and find out where Ron was. It turned out he was 1 mile away at North Memorial Hospital. He had been brought in at around 8:30 by the ambulance and was pronounced dead a little after 11:00 am. Apparently many attempts were made to bring him back, but none of them worked. He was never concious after collapsing on the side of the road. I was told that we could go to view his body at the hospital and was asked what time we wanted to come. We decided to go at 5:30.
When we arrived at the hospital we were ushered into a small waiting room outside the ER. A nurse came in and explained again what happened and asked if we had any questions. We didn't really know what to ask, we just kind of sat there.
Then they brought us to another area with chairs and pointed to the Sunset Room (I remember thinking, what a fucking stupid name for the room) and said, he is in there when you're ready.
Chris and I walked in and Ron was laying under a sheet that stopped at his shoulders. He didn't look like himself at all. He wasn't wearing his glasses, his watch, anything that he usually was. His mouth was slightly open and his hair was messed up. We didn't understand how this could be happening. It is still sometimes unreal.
It's been one year ago today since life changed; since Chris lost his dad, since we realized how fragile life is. It's hard to remember what it was like before. Many things have changed, but one thing remains the same - the love you feel and the good memories you've made stay with you and sustain you through the hard times.
Thank you, Ron, for the gift of your son. He is a great, kind and loving husband. Because of the father you were to him, he will be an amazing one to our kids someday. I only wish you could be here to take part in our lives - to see our first house, to help with the remodel, to be proud of your son for his accomplishments.
I know you are still here in spirit - and that you are smiling down on us. We love and miss you.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I Can't Believe You're Gone
Dad, my sadness knows no end;
I can’t believe you’re gone;
I’m grieving for you every day;
It’s hard to carry on.
You were always there to support and care,
When I needed a true friend,
How I’ll do without my dad,
I cannot comprehend.
You were my teacher and my guide,
My dad, so good and strong;
Your example will sustain me now,
And last my whole life long.
I’m trying to communicate;
I hope that you can hear;
Expressing what I feel for you,
Helps me feel you’re near.
My memories of the times we had
Help the pain to go away.
But Dad, my life won’t be the same;
I’ll miss you every day.
A part of me went with you;
You left a gap too big to fill;
You’re my father and my hero;
I love you and I always will.
I can’t believe you’re gone;
I’m grieving for you every day;
It’s hard to carry on.
You were always there to support and care,
When I needed a true friend,
How I’ll do without my dad,
I cannot comprehend.
You were my teacher and my guide,
My dad, so good and strong;
Your example will sustain me now,
And last my whole life long.
I’m trying to communicate;
I hope that you can hear;
Expressing what I feel for you,
Helps me feel you’re near.
My memories of the times we had
Help the pain to go away.
But Dad, my life won’t be the same;
I’ll miss you every day.
A part of me went with you;
You left a gap too big to fill;
You’re my father and my hero;
I love you and I always will.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
64
Today you would be 64. It's almost been 6 months since you died, and it's amazing how many things have changed, but how little is different. Your clothes still lay in stacks where we first put them. Your shoes sit atop a tote in the living room, your glasses atop your box of rings and cards and important treasures, your ashes in the temporary container on the nightstand. The white bag we recieved at the hospital still sits in our room.
Chris thinks about you everyday, talks about you more now with fond memories and stories of your times together. I feel like I am getting to know you better and it makes me smile to know that you are living on.
Your favorite restaurant, Market BBQ, is closed now and it made Chris sad as he wanted to eat there today. The only time we'd ever been there was with you. I hope you know wherever you are today, that you're being celebrated, remembered and loved.
Happy Birthday.
Chris thinks about you everyday, talks about you more now with fond memories and stories of your times together. I feel like I am getting to know you better and it makes me smile to know that you are living on.
Your favorite restaurant, Market BBQ, is closed now and it made Chris sad as he wanted to eat there today. The only time we'd ever been there was with you. I hope you know wherever you are today, that you're being celebrated, remembered and loved.
Happy Birthday.
Friday, March 26, 2010
An Irish Funeral Prayer
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Rotell, Henry Ronald "Ron"
Age 63, of Glenwood Springs, CO, formerly of Plymouth MN, was abruptly taken from our lives on 12/11/ 09. An avid sportsman, Ron liked to fish, hunt, and spend time outdoors. He had the ability to sell anything and was known for his amazing fashion sense, his kindness, loyalty to those he cared about, and for being an amazing dad. Ron is survived by his loving son, Chris (Michelle) Rotell; sister, Gene; brother, Rick; 3 nieces, 1 nephew, and many dear friends across the country. Memorial service will be held Saturday, 3/27/10 at 2 PM at Peace Lutheran Church, 4512 France Ave. N., Robbinsdale.
David Lee Funeral Home Wayzata 952-473-5577 http://www.davidleefuneralhome.com/
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