Re: OT: Twenty years goes by so damn quickly: Remembering Loved Ones
First of all, I'd like to extend my condolences to Burg, and anyone else in here that has lost a loved one and shared a story about them. Many of us have incredible people in our lives that have been lost or are not doing well.
Secondly, I promise you won't regret reading this post. Bear with me here, I'll try to be as brief as possible.
So I was reading through this thread the other day and was about to post on it when I realized it was started a year ago. Not sure why that stopped me, but I was thinking about it just now and it's been almost 2 months since I lost my grandfather. I wasn't very close to him, but he has a huge amount of respect from me. I think you'll agree that I should. Here's the story, and forgive the long post, but it's worth reading. Amazing story.
Jan 31st, 2001, my father passed away. I've shared this story before, so I'll keep this part short. He was 52 and died of a massive heart attack at work. His father outlived him. Very sad. A co-worker and family friend of ours called me and informed me that he had a cardiac arrest and they didn't know how he was doing. I called my sister and she said "these things aren't always fatal". I was like "He's dad... he'll be fine!". She was like "You'd better call the hospital". So I did. The nurse that answered my call said she had to go get the doctor. I knew then that I lost him.
Ever since then, my grandfather who outlived him was miserable. He had "mini-strokes" a couple of times and was no longer able-bodied. Having lost his only son, he had lost any jovial spirit he once had, which wasn't much. But he had every reason to not have that jovial spirit to begin with. He had a tough life, which I will explain shortly.
He was in the hospital for about a month prior to his passing. He had had a bad fall and broken a couple of ribs and went to the hospital. While he was there they found out he had pneumonia. So he was in a lot of pain. Pneumonia + broken ribs = a bad time. I didn't get a chance to go see him in that time. I figured it was close to christmas and I would see him when I went to see the family at that time. On christmas eve, my grandmother decided it would be nice to have him home for christmas. Besides, he had recovered quite a bit, having been given anti-biotics for his pneumonia, and his ribs having gotten a little better. I went to see them on Christmas day. I got there and my grandmother answered the door. She seemed a little sad, and told me to come in for a chat. I went in and she informed me he had had another fall a few hours earlier and he was back at the hospital for x-rays. She wasn't in very good spirits about it. She felt bad that she brought him home from the hospital.
So I figured "crap, I didn't get to see him. Well, I guess I'll come back as soon as he can have visitors at the hospital."
Unfortunately I was unable to do so. He passed away dec 28th from complications unrelated to the fall or his pneumonia. There was an intestinal blockage.
To be clear, I'm actually relieved he's passed. He was unhappy and in a lot of pain for a very long time. If I ever find myself in the same situation, I hope I pass faster than him.
Now, onto the interesting part. This guy has an insane story!
Shortly after WW2, he was living in the Ukraine, and ended up trying to find his way to Germany. Near the border, him and his group were caught, and executed. He survived. The bullet entered behind his ear and exited out the opposite side tear duct. One of his companions also survived and told him to play dead. Don't moan or groan, don't move. Play DEAD. They took his papers. He was now a nameless man. He was picked up by some good Samaritans and put in a hospital. Somehow, he ended up in a German refugee camp (sorry, this part of the story is lost on me). He finished recovering there, and while he was there, a young lady needed someone to chop some wood for her. He was asked to help. This woman was my grandmother. She had lost her husband during the war. She had an adopted daughter as well as a daughter she had with her ex husband. Anyways, they got married, and of course, they had my father. They wanted to leave Germany (for reasons that I have not been informed of), but they had to pull off some trickery in order to do so. A lawyer advised them to use her ex husband's papers to give my grandfather an identity. With that, they came to Canada and started a new life. So my current last name is the last name of my grandmother's ex-husband. And my grandfather lived under the name of a completely different person for most of his life.
This is my best effort to explain the story with the details I have. They've been very secretive about their past, and for good reason. I only found out my grandfather's real name a couple of months before we lost him, through some clever detective work of the girlfriend of one of my cousins. However, I highly doubt that our government would take a 90+ year old couple out of their home and deport them back to Germany.
Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed this story. I almost wouldn't believe it if someone told it to me themselves.
