This evening (Dec 15 2015) my father, Robert William Davidson, went for a walk after dinner, as was his wont, and he was struck by a vehicle. He suffered extensive injuries including severe head trauma. When an ambulance recovered him he had no life signs, no one knows how long he lay there with no pulse. Medical personnel "revived" him, which means they caused his heart to operate while he was on full life support. Later tonight they tried to transfer him to another hospital but he died in transit, which really means they removed the respirator and his heart stopped, which is how he would have wanted it (he made that clear many times).
Dad grew up on a farm in southern Ontario, and his family moved to Toronto when he was a teenager sometime before WWII. He went to "technical school" as it was called then and trained as a pattern maker (there's a couple of guys here who know what that is/was). He turned 18 in February 1945 and joined the Royal Canadian Navy, but never saw combat before the war ended. He was trained in the Navy as an aircraft mechanic; in 1946 or thereabouts he was seconded to the Royal Navy and stationed in Arbroath, Scotland, where he married. When his Scottish wife realized a few years later that he wasn't going to become an officer, and he was going back to Canada, she divorced him. Dad trained on Sikorsky Sea King helicopters, as well as Trackers and a few other aircraft. He was on the first Canadian crew trained on the Sea Kings. Stationed back in Canada at CFB Shearwater, Nova Scotia, he met and married my mother.
Dad rose to the lofty rank of Chief Petty Officer (aka Chief Warrant Officer, but he was grandfathered and could call himself CPO even after Integration) before he retired after 23 years. His first promotion came after he was "mentioned in dispatches" while serving on a Canadian (which means ex-British) aircraft carrier which ran into a typhoon off the Azores -- I don't remember whether it was the Maggie (HMCS Magnificent) or the Bonnie (HMCS Bonaventure). Basically the hangar deck was filling with water because drains were obstructed, and materiel like huge drums of fuel were sloshing around in the chest-high water. Dad grabbed a bunch of fellow AB's and organized them to secure the "debris" and clear the drains, quite possibly preventing the vessel from capsizing.
My Dad could build anything, from a house to a car. He became an award-winning lapidary and jeweler, regularly winning prizes in annual shows of the Nova Scotia Mineral and Gem Society. He dragged my brother and I on endless dreary trips to places like Scott's Bay where high-grade agate, jasper, and even amethyst could be found by a determined rockhound. He had no interest in nor knowledge of electronics, so I guess there were some things he couldn't build.
I loved him, he was my dad. He showed me what it meant to be a man. I have missed his company for many years, but now I really miss him. I hope he knew how much I loved and admired him. He never intentionally hurt other people. He was skilled with his hands. He was smarter than he thought he was. I'm not saying he was the best or wisest of men, but he was a good man and a wise man, and he loved his family and they loved him.
Bye Dad.
Dad grew up on a farm in southern Ontario, and his family moved to Toronto when he was a teenager sometime before WWII. He went to "technical school" as it was called then and trained as a pattern maker (there's a couple of guys here who know what that is/was). He turned 18 in February 1945 and joined the Royal Canadian Navy, but never saw combat before the war ended. He was trained in the Navy as an aircraft mechanic; in 1946 or thereabouts he was seconded to the Royal Navy and stationed in Arbroath, Scotland, where he married. When his Scottish wife realized a few years later that he wasn't going to become an officer, and he was going back to Canada, she divorced him. Dad trained on Sikorsky Sea King helicopters, as well as Trackers and a few other aircraft. He was on the first Canadian crew trained on the Sea Kings. Stationed back in Canada at CFB Shearwater, Nova Scotia, he met and married my mother.
Dad rose to the lofty rank of Chief Petty Officer (aka Chief Warrant Officer, but he was grandfathered and could call himself CPO even after Integration) before he retired after 23 years. His first promotion came after he was "mentioned in dispatches" while serving on a Canadian (which means ex-British) aircraft carrier which ran into a typhoon off the Azores -- I don't remember whether it was the Maggie (HMCS Magnificent) or the Bonnie (HMCS Bonaventure). Basically the hangar deck was filling with water because drains were obstructed, and materiel like huge drums of fuel were sloshing around in the chest-high water. Dad grabbed a bunch of fellow AB's and organized them to secure the "debris" and clear the drains, quite possibly preventing the vessel from capsizing.
My Dad could build anything, from a house to a car. He became an award-winning lapidary and jeweler, regularly winning prizes in annual shows of the Nova Scotia Mineral and Gem Society. He dragged my brother and I on endless dreary trips to places like Scott's Bay where high-grade agate, jasper, and even amethyst could be found by a determined rockhound. He had no interest in nor knowledge of electronics, so I guess there were some things he couldn't build.
I loved him, he was my dad. He showed me what it meant to be a man. I have missed his company for many years, but now I really miss him. I hope he knew how much I loved and admired him. He never intentionally hurt other people. He was skilled with his hands. He was smarter than he thought he was. I'm not saying he was the best or wisest of men, but he was a good man and a wise man, and he loved his family and they loved him.
Bye Dad.
I can identify with some of what you're feeling - my father died in 1991. He was a couple months short of 70, not an especially advanced age, and to this day I occasionally feel like I was "cheated" out of time with him.
It sounds like your dad and mine had several similar interests and parallel experiences in their lives. Yeah, "could build anything" summarizes it. Or at least make a commendable attempt.
A few days after the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer was confirmed, and they gave him about 6 months of life expectancy, I was doing some tests on a piece of avionics my employer was developing. As I disassembled the unit I glanced at my hand. I was using an adjustable end wrench. But I didn't see the wrench in my hand - it was my dad's hand holding the wrench. The hands that started showing me how to use tools from around 4 or 5 years old. The hands that wouldn't complete any more projects at his house, or mine. I left the tools on the bench where I was working and took the rest of the day off.
I suspect you'll have similar experiences. It's upsetting and embarrassing but I don't think it's shameful. Over time, as I have built a few things, I realized that I was perpetuating my dad's legacy. It's not that I ever dedicated any project to his memory, but I just carried on - naturally doing things that he might have done, but can't. Perhaps a day will come - not now, or next month, or even next year - when you experience that kind of satisfaction.
May God's peace be with you in the coming days.
It sounds like your dad and mine had several similar interests and parallel experiences in their lives. Yeah, "could build anything" summarizes it. Or at least make a commendable attempt.
A few days after the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer was confirmed, and they gave him about 6 months of life expectancy, I was doing some tests on a piece of avionics my employer was developing. As I disassembled the unit I glanced at my hand. I was using an adjustable end wrench. But I didn't see the wrench in my hand - it was my dad's hand holding the wrench. The hands that started showing me how to use tools from around 4 or 5 years old. The hands that wouldn't complete any more projects at his house, or mine. I left the tools on the bench where I was working and took the rest of the day off.
I suspect you'll have similar experiences. It's upsetting and embarrassing but I don't think it's shameful. Over time, as I have built a few things, I realized that I was perpetuating my dad's legacy. It's not that I ever dedicated any project to his memory, but I just carried on - naturally doing things that he might have done, but can't. Perhaps a day will come - not now, or next month, or even next year - when you experience that kind of satisfaction.
May God's peace be with you in the coming days.
...but he was a good man and a wise man, and he loved his family and they loved him.
That makes him a great man in my eyes. I still have my dad, and the memories of watching him solder this or that when I was small. He always had a chunk of rosin for flux. I love that smell, and I love to solder. I'll give my dad an extra hug this holiday and think of you and your dad. So sorry. -Jeffrey Hill (marsupialx)
That makes him a great man in my eyes. I still have my dad, and the memories of watching him solder this or that when I was small. He always had a chunk of rosin for flux. I love that smell, and I love to solder. I'll give my dad an extra hug this holiday and think of you and your dad. So sorry. -Jeffrey Hill (marsupialx)
Nez, I'm really sorry to hear this. You were so fortunate to have him in your life as long as you did, and he'll live on as part of you, from your thoughts and memories to the sort of person he helped guide you into becoming.
You will always miss him. I still think about my father, and he still appears in my dreams even now, more than 30 years after his death.
You will always miss him. I still think about my father, and he still appears in my dreams even now, more than 30 years after his death.
Sorry for your loss and I agree with a poster above, not the way your Dad should have gone after a long full life like that.. Sounds like you had a good Dad and mentor with lots of great memories to look back on, cherish them.. I never knew my real Dad and my stepdad would prove to be a very violent and not so great of a person, then after him a second stepdad came along who was about 65% of the same before him.. You were blessed to know such a good father figure. I feel for you and wish you well for this hard time to have to go through in life. Blessings and well wishes for you and yours!
Nezbleu,
please accept my sympathies for your loss.
John 14:2-6
"In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so,
would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?
And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again
and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.
And you know the way where I am going."
please accept my sympathies for your loss.
John 14:2-6
"In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so,
would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?
And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again
and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.
And you know the way where I am going."
Very touching tribute to your Dad. Especially only after a couple of days. Always keep your fond memories of him alive in you and cherish every minute with your own kids - if you have any.
When you're parents are gone, you can't tell them that you love them. I miss my Dad terribly at times after 3 years, and my Mom after 2 months. This Christmas will be hard, but hang in there.
My sincerest condolences on such a huge loss.
Rick
When you're parents are gone, you can't tell them that you love them. I miss my Dad terribly at times after 3 years, and my Mom after 2 months. This Christmas will be hard, but hang in there.
My sincerest condolences on such a huge loss.
Rick
Nez
Thanks for sharing the memory of your dad with us. I can relate. I find strength in the memories. It's like something they pass on. It's possibly the greatest thing we pass on is our memories. There's so much in them.
I hope this isn't inappropriate but my best advice at this time is make sure the estate goes into probate. Strange things happen when loved ones pass away, probate keeps things in order. imo.
My condolence
Shawn
Thanks for sharing the memory of your dad with us. I can relate. I find strength in the memories. It's like something they pass on. It's possibly the greatest thing we pass on is our memories. There's so much in them.
I hope this isn't inappropriate but my best advice at this time is make sure the estate goes into probate. Strange things happen when loved ones pass away, probate keeps things in order. imo.
My condolence
Shawn
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