A Perfect Day
What would be your perfect day? What chain of events would lead you to live your perfect day? As perfection is not achievable, what circumstances would have to be in place for you to overlook the realities which mar life and yet leave you with a true peace?
There has been such a day. Not just for one person, but for a lifetime of family.
August 14, 2008 was a great day, poised for perfection.
Family and friends came together, as families often do, especially in the fantasy world of television and movies, where they spend a day laughing and reminiscing, tears shed and relationships strengthened. A day where everyone reflected on their lives on just how fortunate they are to have people to love and people to love them, despite faults and failings.
As many of you know, our dad, Bob Hoeschen, had a tragic accident on March 18. And, what some of you know, he had an amazing five months of triumphs and setbacks despite the limitations placed on his body. His mind and spirit were unaffected and shone even more vividly in order to help the rest of us come to terms with the affliction of being unable to care for his self. One would think that anger and bitterness would be, not just expected, but normal. These are emotions which cannot lead you to a perfect day.
Bob had hard days. That cannot be denied. He had painful days. He had scary, frightening moments. And, I am sure, he had great sadness. We were there for many of those moments, but he never imparted sadness upon those he loved and those who came into contact with him.
Many memories and stories can be relayed about Bob. All of them sprinkled liberally with humor. He shared his sense of humor in various ways. Through stories, with winks, with raised eyebrows and with his smile. I hope that you remember these memories and share them with others, so they can experience what an amazing man Bob had been and will continue to be.
I have one memory I would like to share with you, one which I hope leaves you inspired and at peace. I would like to share with you, A Perfect Day.
Circumstances leading to our perfect day were grim. A strain of pneumonia which was resistant to antibiotics and devastating to the lungs set this chain of events into motion. Dad spoke to the pulmonary specialist that he understood and wanted to spend some time with his family. Those who could, dropped their lives and within hours children, grandchildren and friends began to arrive, staging for what to us was an unknown scenario. Thursday, we arrived at the hospital. Dad was smiling and welcoming. One by one, family and friends entered and we spent time with greetings and sharing with him what was going on in our own lives. We spent the first part of the morning growing more accustomed to the awkwardness we stepped into. Soon, it was much like one of the many days spent with the Hoeschen family. Laughter and stories, discussions of beer and food, Dad correcting us on details when our memories were fuzzy, but his was not.
Over the course of the day, things which you always want to say was said, things you want to hear was heard. Dad was patient while we cried and encouraging when we shared our thoughts. He gave of himself as he always has. He made sure Mom took care of things in his office and he was comforted when we reassured him that she will always be taken care of as he has for her for so many years. We will fall short of the example he set, but he taught us well, and even during this perfect day, he continued to inspire us to be better, to do better, to love unconditionally and to forgive. He knew our faults and was proud of us despite them.
More laughter than tears would categorize the day.
When what needed to be said was said, one by one those who were there kissed his head and wished him Goodnight.
His sons and I stayed with him as he fell asleep. I kissed him once more, his eyes opened, and he gave me his smile with the twinkle in his eye. He wanted to make sure that none of us were going to drive very far and to be careful. We promised him we would stay close for a few days. He closed his eyes and nodded. Chopin was playing in the background, his granddaughter’s gift to him, and he sang a bit with the music and slowly fell asleep.
We left quietly, him sleeping and reliving as perfect a day one can have.
We, the family, thank you for your prayers, your encouragement and your love.
Goodnight.
June 15, 1930 - August 15, 2008
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