A Letter To My Beloved Daughter Caitlin about Your Uncle Fred

                  a letter to you, which is perhaps helpful in memory of 
                      your Uncle Fred, b. Nov. 22, 1962, d. May 12, 2013.
                                                                                       

       We've all had anger issues to deal with because we knew him as a kind, gentle, strong, loving problem solver and we asked in anguish: "how could you do this to your children who are so young and still need you so much?"

      At the service, the first thing his cousin Connie talked about was the twinkle (she too often has twinkle of the mischievous kind in her eyes) in his eye and his warm smile when anyone saw him. Yet, a former employer of Fred's and someone who held him in high esteem, Sue, said to me before Connie spoke "Sometimes I am so angry with Fred (for taking his life)."

      I thought, "yes, we all are at times."
      Thus we've struggled  with our emotions, from profound regret and sorrow to anger. But should we be angry at your uncle for his act?

     After much thought and soul searching, My feeling is that I think not.

     My reasoning is that in times of tragedy, we all go through alternating feelings of anger and anguish, which are normal components of the grieving process for humans no matter the cause of death. Albeit sometimes it is possible that people die and there is blame to lay on the deceased, but I don't think so in this case.

      Yet still in the midst of my grief, I got angry and challenged him, "How could you (hurt so many people with this (seemingly) supremely selfish act after conducting yourself so selflessly for others during your life?"

          Before answering that I would like to digress and say something long and deeply felt about your Uncle Freddy. 

     In life I often said this to him and others and then several more times after his death and at the service: "My brother is (was) the best man I've ever known in every way a man could possibly be a man. He was the best husband, father, brother, son, uncle, worker, friend I've every known. He was not only that but also my best friend."

     So how could such a man, known and widely respected for his unwavering strength and kindness,undo it all and hurt so many with such an act? How could he rob so much potential from two small boys (the potential difference of what they could have become under his continued fatherly guidance that was taken away).

     Was he somehow secretly just a mean,angry, jerk, trying to show somebody he ultimately was the one in control? There have been suicides for that reason. But usually people  take their own lives for another reason, the one I told you about: severe depression, a descent into complete hopelessness. When all hope dies, so does your reason for being, for breathing, yet, there you are, still alive, "but why?" you ask.

     So which happened to Fred? We will never know for sure, but we still forlornly search  for rational reasons for it in places that rationality cannot be found. We think about what we knew of him, desperately wanting to reasonably assert with finality that "in this tragedy, he a victim like us." Still,  we get angry with him again.

     Herein lies our answer to how we try to assimilate his action and how we should remember our beloved, brother, uncle, son, father, husband, new grandfather Fred. He was a beautiful, giving, loving, hard working, real man, one of the few among the best of us who've ever lived, who lived his life making ours better with his presence and he just couldn't bear the burden of all that anymore.                    
                   

             'It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved   

             (paraphrased).'

             Alfred, Lord Tennyson, from "In Memoriam A.H.H"
                       

     Fred's good friend and former business associate, Scott, helped me today with my recurring anger, giving me this insight of the full suitcase (another metaphor for the moment it happened is "the straw that broke the camel's back"). I have expanded it to incorporate my knowledge of Fred and sharing it in the hopes that it helps you understand, my beloved daughter, like it has me (if you need it). It is intended to give you insight into what happened to Fred and why we should never be angry at him for the damage caused by the tragedy of his taking of his life.

    Think of a life as a suitcase that you keep jamming clothing into. Eventually you have to take stuff out of it in order to put new stuff into it or it will burst. During his life, Fred didn't take stuff out of his suitcase. But why not? For instance, my suitcase (life) is not overstuffed.

      I think it is because the difference between Fred and I is that Fred was truly a nice, good person, always smiling, friendly, gracious, warm, always ready to help, always giving, never taking from others, never, in effect, unpacking anything from his suitcase. 
     There is a difference between simply having high moral standards and work ethic like I have and being a good person like Fred was. To be a truly  good person like your Uncle Fred one has to walk the high road ALL OF THE TIME, not just when it suits you. You must be one who is good in all ways, genuinely nice and thoughtful to and around others.

        "Only The Good Die Young"--Billy Joel

        "Chripes, I'll probably live to 115 then,"--Bobbi Skankanos
               

        Along with his deeply caring nature, Fred had another trait, perhaps a flaw. To me, Fred was legendary in his refusal to burden others with his problems no matter how small. Indeed that is the only thing the man would ever lie about. "I feel fine," he's say, or "no I can get it myself, thank you anyway." That is the hallmark of a great person. They'll drop everything just to help you with your tiny problem, but you play hell helping them with anything large or small because they won't let you, they'll even tell white lies to keep from laying their burden on you. 
      Fred lived his life taking all care of or always thinking of his family, me, grandma, his friends, you, clients all the while ignoring his own needs, hiding, burying his human frailties deep inside his increasingly overstuffed life's suitcase.

           Then, after 50 years of being selfless for others, The suitcase was full and neither he (because he'd been ignoring it all along, after all) nor anyone knew it until it was too late.

     Typical of Fred is that if I was with Fred and he asked me to help him lift or load something (rare, he was always doing the work of 2 men without comment or request for help), the scenario was that I'd say "okay" and still be out there yammering away about something while he loaded whatever it was by himself! And he always did so without any comment. Whereas I, in his shoes,  (not to him) likely would have said at least sarcastically, "thanks for all the help, girlfriend."

    That illustrates the difference between a truly good person and one like me who is more self centered, less mature with good moral values (him doing, me still talking) but more than occasional bad behavior. It bothers me when people say they will help and don't. It never did him, he just went ahead and did the task himself without comment or criticism.

    He did the same with his entire life and the stress of living it. He "handled" it (not really he just ignored it, more about that in the next paragraph) himself and always refused to talk about it or burden others with his problems which he insisted he could handle and, perhaps, never realized or acknowledge that one day he would not be able to.

      For example, a couple of weeks ago we came to my home late from work in his truck with something very heavy to unload at his house. Though he needed help unloading it, he would not ask and I knew he wouldn't ask so I did. He said "nah, I'll get it."  and I'm like "well are you leaving it in the back of the truck then?" and (not lying yet) he said, "I can unload it myself you don't need to go, thanks anyway."  Now, he has a bad shoulder and a numerous other sore spots and fatigues and God knows what else from doing stuff just as this. So I said, "well then I'm going to your house now and will meet you there to help unloaded it." 

    "No don't worry," he said, I'll just get a neighbor to help me, Tony (I just made this name up but he used one I can't remember) across the street."  Well, THEN I knew the darn fool was lying in order to not burden me with driving over and helping unload.  So catching him in the act, I feigned indignation, and said "OMG I caught you in a lie! I cannot believe you have the gall to blithely tell baldfaced lies to people merely to keep stop from helping you! It's 11 p.m! And don't think I don't know that even if it was 5 p.m. and Tony was in his front yard, that you still wouldn't ask for his help."

    And when it came to his personal health and stress, he was just the same. Typical responses from him about his blood pressure, or a searing headache or whatever was "I got too much to do to (most often for others) worry about that," or I don't have the time to worry about it" or "I don't have the money (or health insurance) to go to the doctor." But for a family man, blowing off your health issues (diabetes, high blood pressure) and the lack of affordable coverage under the USA's euphemistically-labelled a health care system  which is in reality a Health Business System creates more stress. He always  pretended like he didn't worry about it, but he did and such things as not having affordable health care and needing it stuffs the suitcase even more with the stress and fear of being rendered not able to care for and provide for your family. 

       In the end then, his suitcase was so full of stuff about to burst at the seams from years of self neglect and shouldering the burdens of everyone around him and internalizing theirs and his, on May 12, 2013, he may have stuffed one more thing in his suitcase, something perhaps as seemingly inconsequential and weightless to us as a single button and his suitcase exploded at the seams.
     

By Bobbi
   
also for Fred's family, Sara, Sean, Laura and the young ones who may only remember him through things we tell them: his sons, Lincoln, Ford and granddaughter Maiya
    

May 17, 2013