May You Find Your Way in Peace
Sunday afternoon we received a call that my Uncle Ron would die that day. His final diagnosis included extremely advanced liver cancer, lung cancer and esophageal cancer. Concerning the rest, either his family thought that was plenty to share with us, or the possibility of the pain associated with continued examinations made them unwarranted. As for his prognosis, if you know anything about end-of-life care, you know the sorts of things that lead a physician to tell you that the patient will die that day. If you don't know, it's best left as I would describe it - unimaginable. Nevertheless, Uncle Ron lingered on until Monday night.
Evidently, the week before he died he felt relatively well and was in good enough shape to attend the funeral of a friend and enjoy the company of his family the day before he entered the hospital. That night, before his hospital admission in the morning, he spoke for the very last time. "I Love You," he said to my Aunt Joan.
May 7, 1934 - June 4, 2007
Uncle Ron was a professional photographer for many, many years. His obituary says:
Ron's life passion and hobby was photography, and [he] had the unique pleasure of doing what he loved. As owner of Ashton Henderson Photography, he took great pleasure in capturing the beauty of nature and creating lasting memories with his portrait work.
And, I guess, in the true spirit of always being the photographer, there was no picture with his obituary (also online for the time being here) and I haven't any with me.
But he took countless photographs all those years - a legacy of images. Here are a very, very few examples:
Above is my parents' very favourite picture that Uncle Ron took on the day of their wedding, September 10, 1965. So they took the original and hung it on the wall (without glass). The resultant sun damage, stains and scratches are very pronounced. When Uncle Ron learned that we wanted to use enlargements of their wedding pictures for my Parents' Fortieth Wedding Anniversary and that the best-loved image was damaged, he found the original negative and made a new print (from which I made a SCAN for them to hang). Unfortunately, I have yet to manage a good scan of this picture; I will try again:
I cropped the black and white photo above from one of the portraits Uncle Ron took at Mom and Dad's reception for their Anniversary invitation. He took a great assortment of coloured and black and white images on that occasion.
Uncle Ron also took all our family portraits. For some odd reason this is the only one I have on my computer at the moment:
Uncle Ron, naturally, cannot be held accountable for any wardrobe or coiffure choices. Nor can is he responsible for any vaguely cockeyed looks; it's a small miracle to take a picture in which my eyes AND my father's are open.
I will miss you, Uncle Ron. I look back fondly on the trips the families used to take - staying at The Homestead, going to Yellowstone or The Tetons or to Bozeman. I love the memory of that blue Sears jumpsuit you used to wear and the gallant protection you afforded us from that gander which landed you "in the drink." When I see all the pictures you took, the weddings, funerals, the family gatherings - all the rites of passage it seems - I shall always think of you.
For quite a long time, when someone was dying or had died, a particular song has come to my mind - a lovely piece called "Mark's Song" by Eastmountainsouth.
Here are the lyrics, especially for Glen, for Kari, for Grandma Wanda's Charley, and for Uncle Ron:
and there's no more harm may you know you're loved and there's no more harm may you find your way in peacemay your soul be blessed
may your body rest
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
where there's joy ever more
may you find your way in peace
in your Savior's arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all
may you find your way in peace
may you shine above
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
there's no pain anymore
may you find your way in peace
in your Savior's arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all
may you find your way in peace
may you find your way in peace
May you find your way in peace, Uncle Ron. And may you find peace, Aunt Joan, Kevin and your family, Janell and your family, and my Grandma L., as well as those members of Uncle Ron's family I do not know.
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Thanks Kate for your writings. I don't know if you remember the picture of us way back in the day down in your parents basement, Charles's old room. We're watching something and its the Lee family the Bartholomew family and the Henderson family. I think that was about the first time out of two or three times that i meet Ron and Joan. Of course i was young at the time so i only have that picture to remember that time. You probably have a ton more memories of their family. I am sorry for the loss of a dad, husband and grandfather. Cancer seems to be seeking out the strongest to see if everyone around can cope with the difficulties that surround it. I'm not a writer like you so most of what i write is babble and all over the board. But i'm sorry for everything hitting close to home. Its a test for everyone and hopefully we'll all get a passing grade.
On another note... don't forget we'll be down for the 4th of July week. So be prepared for my silly mosters to meet their second(??) cousins. Love ya long time!
I know exactly which picture your mean. I think it may have been Great-Grandpa Monson's 80th birthday party. We're all gathered about that - uhm - vivid plaid couch on the VIVID "pizza vomit" carpet (only my Mom would somehow find a way to match psychedelic shag carpet with a kaleidescope sofa - oh - the carpet is still there, but the couch met its long overdue demise).
If I were home that's one of the pictures I'd love to see again. You were just a tow-headed little guy (like YOUR tow-headed little guys), but you and Charles still managed to get into plenty of trouble (fairly cute trouble, I suppose).
And you write about it beautifully, I think. And besides, I have the title of "Queen of Babble."
I look forward to meeting the "monsters." Have I even met ANY of them? Oh - and your Mom taught me this; they are my first cousins once removed.
Kathryn - Thank you for the beautiful tribute to my father. My son Jacob found this blog and we laughed at your recollection of the goose story. You relay it much better than I did for his life sketch.
My mom has had a really difficult time dealing with the diagnosis of cancer and has tried to hide it from everyone. I am pleased to see it recognized for what it is and that it can take anyone at any time.
I find my peace knowing that my dad did not suffer for an extended amount of time. I have no regrets, he was a good husband, father and grandfather. I love him very much, but I know he is now in a better place. Give your family our love and let them know that all is well.
Thanks again for your writing.
Kate,
I am sorry for Uncle Ron's death. As happened a lot of times your writings remembers the people who passed away, and in such a way they continue to live inside ourselves.
"The life has always been a lesson of humility and loyalty (honesty). The matter is not how many years we live, bur rather what we do with them". My father, Lorenzo Capaccioli.
Dear Janell,
Jacob must be quite the cool cyber-kid. I'm glad you laughed at the story (especially I have a tendency to ask forgiveness rather than permission to talk about people); I'm sure you actually did a wonderful job of it for his life sketch. I just wish I could have been there. We'd already postponed my return flight from Maryland/D.C. before I knew about your Dad and we really couldn't change it again.
I'm so glad, too, that your Dad didn't suffer for an extended time. I'm also glad that you've been around to take such good care of your parents. I can't imagine what a blessing that must have been lately (well - and always).
I'm very sorry that your Mom has been having trouble with the idea of a cancer diagnosis. Obviously I have come to the conclusion that everyone needs to know about it. I just wish that such wonderful people, like your Dad, never had to suffer from cancer so abruptly and seriously.
The Lance Armstrong Foundation has a quote that I really like:
I also think that the quote above from Mic's Dad (who died from a brain tumor) is extremely touching and applies beautifully to your Father's life.
Please take care of your sweet family and don't forget to take care of yourself, too!
Much Love,
Kathryn (Kate)
Dear Mic,
Thank you for always being there with comforting and inspirational words. You are a good friend.
Kate
Thanks you too, Kate.
As a member of a "community" touched by cancer, I feel responsible to encourage the others to keep faith. The faith in the medicine and the faith in the doctors and most importantly that faith in making cancer a national first priority.
I am trying to spread the Big "C" as much as I can and by my web site as well. According to a study, people in my home country, Italy, have given their faith to the research, but the cancer research is recognised as the third priority. Unfortunately, it seems I won't achieve the $ 25,000.00 USD goal at my LAF Fundraising Headquarters, but I continue to keep faith, "spending" time for cancer awareness.
My father died for a malignant tumor more than a year ago, so I lost him physically. But he is alive inside myself everytime I wish, especially when I forget all the cynism and scepticism "you" can find in the world and I see that the "... Matter is not how many years we live, but rather what we do with them". With this faith my father was meant to make a very fine irony of those who use to manufacture the reality and put as a first priority "how many years we live". And thanks to him I have learnt this behaviour.
Mic...
Mic...