R.I.P. Rick
Karin’s stepdad, Rick, died today. He was fifty-five. His body housed many illnesses: among them, pneumonia; we’re not sure which one killed him. When we saw him a few weeks ago, he looked frail, shriveled up. He needs to go to the doctor, we said. But with typical stubbornness he refused to go to the doctor. Karin’s mom told us he seemed tired of living: he would barely eat, and he’d talk about dying. Last weekend, he collapsed and lost consciousness. The medics almost took him to the hospital, but he awoke in time to dismiss them.
The following Monday, he went back to his job. Then he stopped working.
He was employed as a chef. Some weeks, he’d work ninety hours. His body was always sore.
A gruff, irreligious man, he was reconciled with God some two weeks ago, Karin’s mom said. It was the first time she’d seen him at peace.
Karin & I are very sad. We would’ve especially liked for Samuel to know him longer. He was very kind to his grandchildren. He put up with a great deal of nonsense from the rest of his family. He had a piquant, rather absurdist sense of humor. He was an ardent Vikings fan; the Vikings, of course, never won any Super Bowls, and I don’t think Rick ever won anything, either. That’s all right: a wise man once noted that ours is a religion for losers.
Rick left it late, but I think that at the end, he was prepared – he had the requisite humility. He was small enough, as another wise man once put it, to crawl through the eye of a needle.
Here he is with his dog, George, whom he lovingly called the “Swine.”
The following Monday, he went back to his job. Then he stopped working.
He was employed as a chef. Some weeks, he’d work ninety hours. His body was always sore.
A gruff, irreligious man, he was reconciled with God some two weeks ago, Karin’s mom said. It was the first time she’d seen him at peace.
Karin & I are very sad. We would’ve especially liked for Samuel to know him longer. He was very kind to his grandchildren. He put up with a great deal of nonsense from the rest of his family. He had a piquant, rather absurdist sense of humor. He was an ardent Vikings fan; the Vikings, of course, never won any Super Bowls, and I don’t think Rick ever won anything, either. That’s all right: a wise man once noted that ours is a religion for losers.
Rick left it late, but I think that at the end, he was prepared – he had the requisite humility. He was small enough, as another wise man once put it, to crawl through the eye of a needle.
Here he is with his dog, George, whom he lovingly called the “Swine.”
