From Here to Eternity
In One Last Breath
It seems really strange as I sit here writing a eulogy for my dad. How can a few words on a computer screen do him and his life justice? My dad, Norman Poe, was born in 1924 in West Virginia. He grew up during the Depression with a father who was a gambler. I was Dad’s only son and he gave me a shotgun for my eighth birthday and a .22 pistol when I was 12, which was standard practice for a West Virginia boy. He fought in World War II, caught tuberculosis, and lost one kidney and part of another. He had his lower back fused and in 1981 had a brain aneurism and brain surgery; he lost a lot of his short-term memory along with his ability to speak correctly.
I spent my early years walking along railroad tracks groundhog hunting and sitting by riverbanks fishing well into the night. Much of my childhood was spent visiting him in VA hospitals, where the doctors explained that we should be prepared because he might not make it; suffice it to say that he outlived those doctors and many of their children.
But those who knew him during these last years in Chico would have never suspected the amount of pain and suffering he went through in his life. I noticed early in my life that he seemed to follow me wherever I moved, be it Las Vegas, Humboldt County, or San Diego. He liked to be close to me and was my number one lifelong fan. In 1985 his physical health and inability to work made it necessary for him to move in with me and he continued to live with me until the day he died.
When I met my wife, Dhara, in Brazil in 1998 I explained to her that Dad was a big part of my life and I was responsible for his well-being, and for the last 15 years of his life she shared the responsibility and the joys of taking care of him. She was instrumental in catching two strokes early enough to reverse the effects. The last years of his life were spent living at what was formerly called the Goddess Temple here in Chico. He was often seen walking around with his walking stick, which was carved and given to him by my daughter Cindy. I remember stopping him on many walks and bringing him and myself into presence with the thought that someday he or I would give everything for this brief moment, and so we should always value our moments together; that moment is now for me.
It’s the little things that I will miss, the short sayings such as “It’s a beautiful day, a beautiful day,” and all the little annoying things that he tried so desperately to avoid doing. He didn’t quite finish his last puzzle, which we will someday finish for him. And now I find myself at a loss for words, which is very unusual for me … thanks for sharing this moment with me.
Rahasya aka “Billy”
The last photo taken…little did we know.
Sky’s first birthday with 4 generations
When life was “A Walk In The Park”
Dad with Edna doing the thing he loved most…Breakfast out
We used to take many many walks in the park
Dad and Dhara dancing in Olympia, WA…he loved to dance,
and thank you Dhara for all you did for my Dad.