Trying to Do It All

But we can’t actually do it all. No one can take care of kids full time and work full time. The kids need to come first. So now is a good time to lower your expectations, hold your kids close, and take care of yourself. Do the work that matters most to you, and that will make the most difference to your students, your colleagues, and your fields. It’s not about quantity. Getting one main work task done each day is plenty (and some days even that may seem impossible).

No one knows how long this is going to last, and, in many ways, that lack of certainty goes against the training, goal setting, and planning that have helped us get where we are in our academic careers. As academics we are used to applying for grants and planning research and conference trips months and months in advance. But it’s helped to let go of that need for long-term planning and thinking, and instead to focus on what is immediately in front of us and what needs to be done to move forward to tomorrow.

The above are the last two paragraphs from this article my sister-in-law sent me tonight. She works in higher education as well. These last couple of weeks we have been trading stories about trying to juggle it all as moms of littles while working in academia.

This article helps me to see why the struggle is so real. Professionally, I am hard wired to have many different plans in motion through the research, teaching, and service arenas yet all that has come to a grinding halt or significantly slowed due to the virus. Throw in the changes in my personal life as well and everything has gone haywire. Yet, being busy keeps the tears at bay. When is too much too much though?

Yet again the term, intentionality, comes to mind...the authors in the article say to let go and do what matters the most to you....which leads to the juxtaposition of momming and teaching - - two roles I love and was born to do!

An unexpected silver lining during these days of teaching four full classes online, advising remotely, and attempting to research, I haven't had the chance to be sad over being unable to bear more children. My mind can't help but be grateful that all the struggle with balancing is for one child rather than having to try to meet the needs of more than one at the moment. Four years, one month, and 22 days of the almost constant ache of secondary infertility has dulled during this time of COVID-19. Or perhaps the fresh pain of not having the physical presence of my Dad is overshadowing it. Guess time will tell but if I am being honest, I suppose I need to be thankful for the virus pushing me further on to acceptance and perhaps peace of being a family of three.

In spite of having a smaller family, the struggle of trying to get it all done each day is so... well, large! Yesterday, I literally had to resort to setting the timer for 15 minutes to do some grading then set it for 10 minutes to play with Charlotte before repeating the cycle again. She saw it as a game but I felt guilt and like I couldn't fully devote my attention to both tasks at hand thereby cheating both Charlotte and my students of my full self.

Be fully teacher.

Be fully mommy.

Grade that paragraph with the run-on sentences.

"Stick the My Little Pony in the dollhouse over there, Mommy."

"Can you help me with advising? Should I change my grade to pass/fail or do you think my GPA will survive a C?"

Clean the spilled milk from the smiley face cup as the dogs try to lap it up by my feet.

Fix the exam that didn't auto-release & send out emergency announcement and emails to calm the panicked students.

Color on the back porch with surprise rainbow crayons.

"Thanks for an incredible semester and for teaching me about this great performance-based assessment, Dr. R!"

"I love you, Mommy! That tickles!!!" before dissolving into a puddle of giggles in my bear hug.

I call that a win and lay my head down to sleep to try to balance all over again tomorrow.

Gift of the mundane (and technology)!

A little bit ago, I posted how hard today was...I suspect it is because I was up late last night working on thank you cards and reading through the guest book as I searched for something that had Dad's handwriting in it.

Well, a blessing of sharing a bit of my grief and reflections today yielded an unexpected gift out of the mundane and ordinary!  My friend, Monika, sent me the following text:

So Adam & I hightailed it over to Google Maps and found these pictures on there!! 

See Dad at the top of the hill in the red shirt??

This is so Dad...just doing his thing tending to the yard.  I don't know how long ago this picture was taken...maybe my brothers would be able to figure it out based on the cars that are in the driveway.  LOL!

What are the odds?!  I love that this mundane ordinary moment of Dad serving his household/family by cutting the grass is frozen in time...Thank you, Monika (and technology), for this gift of seeing Dad in this most unexpected yet ordinary way.

Circle of Love

Today has been particularly hard.

Yet these surprise deliveries from family and Charlotte's school brought joy this afternoon.

 The flowers reminded me of our wedding and how involved Dad was in the planning of it (with Mom of course) the summer before it. The card from Charlotte's school that featured pictures of her so diligently working on her works remind me of how excited my parents were to pick her up on her first day of school this past fall!

This reminder from Dad in Charlotte's Baptism Book and our guest book help me to know he is still near.

Dad is reminding me that our circle of love will grow and change although no one could ever replace the folks who previously made up the circle. 

 He was the first one to sign out guest book (First There) as he and Mom were at our house before we even returned from our honeymoon! 🤣

Fueled by Faith Friday

All day I kept thinking it was the weekend before realizing at dinner it is Friday. So I am excited to use an oldie but goodie for today's blog posting title.

This is the first reading from Dad's funeral mass that was held yesterday morning. My older brother, Brian, read it.

We chose this scripture since it is the one from the day Dad passed. He literally drew his last breath as we read and prayed with these at his bedside.

Here is my takeaway from this reading. Never be afraid to stand up for what you believe. You may be shamed, mocked, ridiculed, but never doubt yourself. My Dad taught us what it meant to live with conviction and to keep your word.

The passage contains the phrase, He is the stone rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone, which makes me think of how often we get wrapped up in appearances or outward looks. We are quick to cast aside that which we think might not belong as we are busy bees building away and work, work, working along without really stopping to notice what we are truly doing along the way. Yet, it is what is on the inside that counts and can serve as the strongest or most important foundation.

Never underestimate a rejection or settle for being broken as being the end of the story. It is through being broken that sometimes the strongest we will ever be will emerge! It is through our weaknesses that God can shine through and show how strong we can be with Him.

Just thinking back on yesterday, alone, so many reminders of what could have been rejections that could have held Dad back and kept him from growing into the cornerstone of our family that he is popped up...one was that we got off the highway on Fisher Street. Fisher was Dad's unwanted birth name. The gospel selected by Monsignor for the funeral mass was about the death of Lazarus and when his sister said, "Lord, had you been here, my brother would not have died". Dad could have easily walked away from his faith and/or God over the years when hardship after hardship presented itself, such as losing his job when he had five people relying on him or when his health kept him away from a grandchild's special event. He could have said, "Lord...if you had been here, this would not have happened" yet he didn't. Another special reminder came in the form of a childhood best friend telling Mark that the local church would have a mass for Dad....on June 26th. She had no way of knowing that is Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary!


Yesterday was hard but we were fueled by faith as we accompanied Dad to his final resting spot.

Fly high

Tonight we saw Dad.

We were able to go see him at the funeral home, which was a surprise since we hadn't expected the invitation to do so with planning on having the viewing at church tomorrow morning.

As we drove over to the funeral home, I didn't know what to expect and kept thinking of the last funeral I attended in January. Sha looked so different from how she was while we lived in Austria and I wondered if Dad would look drastically different to me.

I got a glimpse of Dad's telltale wavy hair as soon as we walked in the door. I recognized him immediately as his face came into view...he almost had a half smile on his face, too!

I was struck by the sense of peace that filled the place and he even seemed to look younger in death. It made me think about his being restored in Heaven. My mom and brothers said he looked proud, distinguished, and satisfied.

Upon returning home tonight, our friend, Nick, flew a small plane over our house. We all went out on the back deck to watch him circle around the backyard. Patrick called it the final send off/fly over for Dad. It was quite fitting given all the many flying conversations my twin's best man had with Dad.

This makes me think of another aspect of my parents. So many of our friends, over the years, have gravitated toward them. I love that they know and love Dad as we do. So much so that when I sent a picture of Dad to one of my best friends from 8th grade on, she proclaimed how peaceful he looked, too! I hope to be that kind of parent for Charlotte - - to be looked at as an example or to be included the way my parents have been.

Here's to one more day physically with Dad as we prepare for the private viewing and mass before taking him to the military cemetery that is about 45 minutes from home.

First Dream

Last night was full of dreams.  It's been a while since we all got a peaceful night's worth of sleep.  Last night, I drifted off to sleep and was in and out of dreams the whole night.  I woke up three times throughout the night and early morning hours to find myself falling back into a different dream.

In the middle of one of them, I found myself perched between the driver's and front passenger seat as I searched for something or someone outside the front window.  This spot in the family van had been my older brother's when we would go on trips but all of us kids eventually found ourselves between our parents peering out the front window over the many trips and rides we took together.  So, when I found myself in this position, I was at once comforted by the familiarity of it even though I didn't know which vehicle I was in, didn't pay much attention to who was driving, and was unsure of whom or what I was looking for in the dream. 

Soon, we pulled up to an intersection, and there was my Dad driving his car on the opposite side of the intersection.  He didn't say a word, but simply waved, nodded, and pulled in front of us as whoever was driving followed him.  I slid back into my seat, relieved and at once relaxed.  I knew we were fine now that we were following Dad....then woke up almost with a smile on my face before the confusion set in and reality awakened me.

This scene in the dream has played out so many times.  Dad was always quick to direct or navigate us out of a wrong turn.  He was the fearless leader.  Quiet, confident, and always a step ahead of us, he forged ahead of our family for the last 44 years - - much like what he has done now.  He is the first in our immediate family to depart from us...and to do so during Easter Week just prior to Divine Mercy Sunday is really special.  There were times I did not deserve his mercy growing up yet he always freely gave it to us kids.  I am choosing to lean into the notion that Dad is leading the way and prepping our spots for when we join him at the end our own individual "trips" - - with each day we wake, we're one day closer to reuniting with him.  May eternal rest, grant until him, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May he rest in peace.  May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

My little brother's reflections on Dad - It's amazing how much one person can impact another!

January 30, 1947 – April 17, 2020

This was my dad. He packed a whole lot into that " - ", between those two dates, more so than most. Much of his story belongs to us, but here is a glimpse of it.

Born to a 15 year old girl, not ready to be a mother, he was raised by his grandparents and brand new older "brother" and "sister". His Uncle Robert and Aunt Olive immediately became his older siblings, Bob and Ollie, thus starting the odd half-generation gap in the Kemmery family tree. As a child, he ran around　Port Carbon and spent summers on the back of his cousin's motorcycle. Since his "father", Pop, started and ran Port Carbon Little League (years later, having the field renamed in his honor), dad naturally grew up playing baseball. He continued that passion well beyond playing in Asia by coaching us three boys through our own Little League years. After high school, he joined the Air Force, fought in Vietnam, lived through being shot, and saw much more action than he was ever willing to discuss. It wasn't until much, much later in life that I realized his entire career was not spent in the air traffic control tower as I had thought. It turns out while fighting in war, he was a combat controller and an absolute bad ass. In place of GPS and radar, combat controllers had to covertly get in first, get eyes on a target, locate it on a grid, call in a bombing run or air fire, stay in place, and hope like hell their measurements were correct as they laid in wait from less than 100 yards away. The words used to describe the work of a combat controller include: covert, forward, and austere. Their motto was “First There” as they had to be in position even ahead of the tip of the spear for everything else to proceed. So no, my belief that he lived in a control tower managing flights from a safe distance was not correct. He was a 20 year Air Force veteran, but when the other three kids were REAL bad, it sounded like he had some sailor in him as well. While working as an air traffic controller in Dover, he worked side jobs including security at Dover Downs so my mom wouldn't have to immediately go back to work as us kids were being born. He worked in textiles as a purchaser for a clothing/fabric company. He worked for the Schuylkill County Housing Authority aiding low income housing residents. He spent time working for the Department of Education in D.C., and he was an accountant for the VA hospital. Lost in the mix is the position he took which actually tells the most about who he was. When I was in high school, after the company he was working for laid off most of the staff, he still had a wife, four kids (three of whom were already in college), and a goofy German Shepherd mix for whom to provide. While continuing to apply for other positions, he took a job at the local gas station/hoagie shop. He put all pride aside, took what was probably pretty close to a minimum wage job, kept pressing forward, and kept the family afloat until better times would come.

As I grew up and started working, I realized just how valuable time away from work really was. And I reflected on how he gave ALL of his away. He attended countless ice skating shows and competitions. He didn't care much for ice skating (or Bryan Adams), but Meg did, so he was First There. He would drive hours away and park the RV in the infields of race tracks on blazing Saturday mornings just to watch Brian and Clark's endurance go kart races. He would much rather have been asleep on his chair while “watching” golf or Overhaulin'. He didn't have a vested interest in racing, but Brian did, so he was First There. He and Mark would go hunting every time deer season came around. I would ask if they saw anything, since they always came back empty handed (because Mark doesn't know how to load a bolt action rifle). Mark would talk about tracks he had seen or a small doe, while dad would have no such luck as deer seldom made enough noise to wake him, napping warmly inside his car to the 60s channel on XM. He would have much preferred being warm in bed, but Mark wanted to be in the woods, so he was First There. Unlike the other kids' activities, everything I did, he actually REALLY cared about, but in the spirit of completeness... I can't even guess how many evening sporting events he showed up for, after having already put in a full day of work. I know the inviting call of just getting home after a long day, but no matter the time, weather, or distance, he was First There. All those years we all thought that whatever little thing we had going on was the most important thing in the world. It turns out, he spent the last 40+ years making sure we knew we were right.

He taught us to measure twice, cut once and that “good enough” was never good enough. He taught us to defend ourselves if we had to and how to avoid conflict if we could. He taught us to do the labor, but contract out the plumbing and electrical. He taught us to have pride in our family name, Kemmery, the one that he consciously and proudly chose, the one that he would not dare allow us to diminish. One distinguished state trooper and three doctors later, it seems as though his point was well made. Some of what he instilled in us was intentional, but so much more was learned as we just observed him living life every single day.

On winning/losing with class/style – when I was the only kid still in high school and living at home, it meant playing a quick nine holes of golf would just include the two of us. I was never able to beat him consistently, but the first time it was about to happen, we drove to the ninth green. We were tied, but my approach shot left me with about a five foot putt for the win. His ball was much farther away, so he had to shoot first. He was probably 40 feet away, just off the green. I could tell he was enjoying watching me win, even if it meant he was about to lose. He happened to have grabbed the wrong club and told me to throw him my putter that I was carrying. I said “I'll just get yours”. He was a lefty, and I am a righty, and I definitely didn't need THIS excuse being part of the story of my legendary win (“Well if I just had MY putter...”). Again, he called for my righty club. Reluctantly, I threw it to him and turned to walk toward the hole to pull the flag. Instead of waiting, his ball rolled by me as I moved with my back to him. I saw it start curving with the green and on its last rotation fall into the hole, dead center..from at least 40 feet, with the wrong club, in a must make situation. I stopped, turned to him, and saw that he was already half way back to the cart, and my club was laying on the ground in the spot from which he had just shot. Without turning back he yelled, “grab that for me!” Your ball or my club? “Both!” Before I had time to miss my easy putt, he had already pulled off with the cart, leaving me to take the walk of shame from the green to the parking lot, carrying my putter and both of our golf balls. My first win against him would come another day, but he made it abundantly clear that it wasn't THAT day.

On being pragmatic/practical – mom and dad purchased land on the east edge of Frackville to build the new house. Days before the foundation was to be poured, an employee from the water company stopped to talk with him. He informed dad that he would be taking a strip on land that he had just purchased in order to run a pipe back to a large pumping station deep in the woods. The water would run underground and meet with the pipe underneath the road in front of the house. When my dad told him there was no way in hell that was happening, the water company man offered him an insulting amount, literally pennies on the dollar to buy back some of the land for which he had just paid. He told him to be thankful for the offer, because should he not accept, he would go to the county and obtain an order to take it for free. Within a couple days, the crew arrived to dig the land out and pour the foundation. Of course, my dad was First There. “Change of plans, guys”. He took the plan measurements and turned them to the left just a few degrees. “Let's dig it here.” They did as instructed, and the foundation was promptly installed. Now, the front left corner of the house, was directly on the line Mr. Hardball from the water company planned to use. When he arrived to see the development, he removed his hard hat, hung his head, looked up and smiled at my dad, and said touché. Their choices now included running a pipe through our basement, paying to have the foundation moved, or put the pipe under the access road, well away from our property. Spoiler alert, just like on the golf course, dad won.

On being fair – we didn't always get along. In high school, I knew everything. The main sources of contention were privacy, curfew, and freedom. Fighting on behalf of mom, dad was my main adversary during those years- a formidable foe. Before Mark became a trooper and speeding tickets were still a thing, when we came home with one, he didn't necessarily get mad. He just reminded us of the rule that our license was internally suspended until we figured out a way to earn the money to pay the fine and whatever amount he deemed necessary to cover the expected increase in insurance premium. At some point I decided to ensure my privacy. My room, my door. They stay out. So I did what any reasonable boy would do. I went to the hardware store, bought a chain lock, and went back to my room. I meticulously measured (twice), drilled pilot holes, and screwed in my new lock. I stepped back and admired my work. I was proud of it, and it felt good to finally take some control. Later that night, I heard him coming up the steps and down my side of the long hallway. The doorknob turned. The door began to open, and just as planned, the chain stopped it. “Open the door” he said calmly. “It's locked”, I so helpfully pointed out. I heard him walking away. The sweet taste of victory was mine! He went downstairs, and I turned back to the 13 inch TV to finish watching Talk Soup on E! A little while later, footsteps approached again. Time for round t- **CRACK!** In came dad's right foot as the chain broke into three or four pieces, landing on the floor. He was holding some sandpaper and a couple more tools. He walked over to my bed, calmly dropped them down, and turned to walk out of the room. He stopped, looked at the frame where the lock had been firmly attached just seconds ago, and before leaving, mentioned over his shoulder “after you fix that, you're going to need to buy a small can of white paint”. Calm, fair, and direct. The door stayed lockless for as long as we remained in that house.

On wisdom and experience – It seemed like we could call for directions from anywhere and he was able to help us navigate our way out. He could fix anything, build things from scratch, make mechanical adjustments, and reason his way through any situation. He taught me how to keep a balanced budget, earn credit but never rely on it, and give to those in need. Even as recently as a week ago, Brian was installing a raised toilet seat for him. Brian was having trouble using the funky adjustable screwdriver at the house. He asked mom if she ever used it, which she hadn't. As Brian struggled with it, dad reached out his arm from his hospital bed. Unable to muster the strength to speak or open his eyes for long, he pinched the two black pieces, locking the head in place, allowing Brian to finish the job. To the very end, he was helping us do things that we couldn't figure out on our own.

As his time drew near, we received calls and texts about how he was like a father to so many others. The amount of time, effort, and sacrifice he put forth to make others feel important is hard to wrap my mind around, but what's even more surprising than the sheer number of people he affected is the fact that not a single one of us ever felt slighted or that we were anything less than his number one priority. He had many roles and titles throughout his life: son, brother, uncle, husband, best friend, Master Sergeant, drummer, pilot, motorcycle rider, pitcher, accountant, volunteer EMT, Little League treasurer, driving instructor (and subsequently, transmission repairman), Meals on Wheels deliveryman, prison chaplaincy volunteer, coach, provider, paper route driver, rescuer, veteran, hero. Yet to us, he was one thing. He redefined the word and raised the bar for everyone who follows. To us, he has always been and will forever be: our dad.

I don't want Dad to become a memory

Sometime in the last 48 hours, I said to my twin, "I don't want Dad to become a memory", when he and I were sitting by Dad's bedside in the room by ourselves.  He had simply nodded knowing exactly what I meant.

At 6:14am this morning on Friday, 04/17/20, Dad did become a memory.

He will forever be etched into my heart and mind and if today is any indication, I will constantly have him on my heart and mind.  I'm going to do my best to help keep the memories Charlotte Annie made with him (and Mom) over the last four years to stay alive in her young mind as she grows older.  I am not sure what I'll say to her when she asks for Pappy. 

This posting is one of the hardest things I've ever had to write....but in feeling so broken and vulnerable right now, I'm also feeling how loved and cared for my family and I are even in the absence of our cornerstone and our rock. In rewatching some of Fr. Jack's homily from one week ago on Good Friday that I watched with Dad, I drew comfort from being reminded of how Dad watched even in his weakened state and with his erratic breathing. In the video, I could feel the love between Mom and Dad as she fed him. Fr. Jack's words are powerful (as always) and given that Fr. Jack is unable to come down and do the funeral mass due to COVID-19 restrictions, I'm extra thankful I recorded the video snippet from seven days ago...his message then seems even more perfect given what we experienced today. 💓

Thank you to each of you for the outpouring of love and support during this hard time for us all.

So, last night, I stayed up until close to 3am then finally went to bed to be awoken by Patrick a few short hours later around 5:45am.  I had been in the midde of a dream and didn't quite know what was happening until he looked me in the eye and said, "Dad closed his mouth and is slowing down with his breathing".  I followed him to the bedroom and sat to the right of Dad.  Patrick was right.  Longer and longer pauses were occurring between breaths.

Mom asked us to say the Our Father, Glory Be, and Hail Mary with her.  We did.  I pulled up the daily readings and gospel. 

USCCB »  Bible »  Daily Readings

April 17 2020

« April 16  |  April 18 »

Friday in the Octave of Easter
Lectionary: 265

Reading 1ACTS 4:1-12

After the crippled man had been cured,
while Peter and John were still speaking to the people,
the priests, the captain of the temple guard,
and the Sadducees confronted them,
disturbed that they were teaching the people
and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection of the dead.
They laid hands on Peter and John
and put them in custody until the next day,
since it was already evening.
But many of those who heard the word came to believe
and the number of men grew to about five thousand.

On the next day, their leaders, elders, and scribes
were assembled in Jerusalem, with Annas the high priest,
Caiaphas, John, Alexander,
and all who were of the high-priestly class.
They brought them into their presence and questioned them,
“By what power or by what name have you done this?”
Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, answered them,
“Leaders of the people and elders:
If we are being examined today
about a good deed done to a cripple,
namely, by what means he was saved,
then all of you and all the people of Israel should know
that it was in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean
whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead;
in his name this man stands before you healed.
He is the stone rejected by you, the builders,
which has become the cornerstone.
There is no salvation through anyone else,
nor is there any other name under heaven
given to the human race by which we are to be saved.”

Responsorial Psalm118:1-2 AND 4, 22-24, 25-27A

R.    (22)  The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone.
or:
R.    Alleluia.
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good,
for his mercy endures forever.
Let the house of Israel say,
“His mercy endures forever.”
Let those who fear the LORD say,
“His mercy endures forever.”
R.    The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone.
or:
R.    Alleluia.
The stone which the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone.
By the LORD has this been done;
it is wonderful in our eyes.
This is the day the LORD has made;
let us be glad and rejoice in it.
R.    The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone.
or:
R.    Alleluia.
O LORD, grant salvation!
O LORD, grant prosperity!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD;
we bless you from the house of the LORD.
The LORD is God, and he has given us light.
R.    The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone.
or:
R.    Alleluia.

AlleluiaPS 118:24

R. Alleluia, alleluia.
This is the day the LORD has made;
let us be glad and rejoice in it.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.

GospelJN 21:1-14

Jesus revealed himself again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias.
He revealed himself in this way.
Together were Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymus,
Nathanael from Cana in Galilee,
Zebedee’s sons, and two others of his disciples.
Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.”
They said to him, “We also will come with you.”
So they went out and got into the boat,
but that night they caught nothing.
When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore;
but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?”
They answered him, “No.”
So he said to them, “Cast the net over the right side of the boat
and you will find something.”
So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in
because of the number of fish.
So the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.”
When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord,
he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad,
and jumped into the sea.
The other disciples came in the boat,
for they were not far from shore, only about a hundred yards,
dragging the net with the fish.
When they climbed out on shore,
they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread.
Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught.”
So Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore
full of one hundred fifty-three large fish.
Even though there were so many, the net was not torn.
Jesus said to them, “Come, have breakfast.”
And none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?”
because they realized it was the Lord.
Jesus came over and took the bread and gave it to them,
and in like manner the fish.
This was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples
after being raised from the dead.

-----------------------------------
Dad is, indeed, the cornerstone of our family.  He was rejected early in life but never let that bring him down and was one of the most easygoing and optimistic men I knew.  Also, Mom and I were floored when we heard, "This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it"!  That was a song from Mom and Dad's wedding and had been the responsorial psalm for Charlotte's Baptism Mass.

We took a break from the day's readings/gospel to read the daily reflection from Mom's devotional and boy did it fit that moment....for Dad had passed right before this but I hadn't quite realized it just yet.  My brothers and Mom knew but I didn't...yet.

As I continued reading the Gospel and meditation, I noticed Patrick put a blanket around Mom, pillows behind her chair, and he brought Dad's jacket to me that I had worn yesterday.  He then calmly walked over to Dad, removed his oxygen, and pulled the blanket up to his chin.  I kept reading the scriptures to the end then realized what had just happened.

Three days of nonresponsiveness, not taking in drink or food, led to this morning of Dad receiving relief at 6:15am as the sun peeked out from the morning clouds.  Here's Patrick's perspective of how this morning went as he shared with some of Mom's friends later:

Hi everyone. This is Kathy's son, Patrick. Many of you received a message a couple weeks ago detailing dad's health issues and the changing nature of his situation. I just wanted to send a follow up to those on this list per her request. Thank you for your continued prayers and support. Hey guys. I just wanted to let you know that my dad passed away this morning. He had been dealing with a lot for years, but especially since December, and congestive heart failure had gotten worse. The fluid building up around his lungs and heart would normally be treated by high doses of diuretics. But that would have damaged his kidneys that had decreased to functioning at around 30% or less. He had recently been diagnosed with MDS which is pre leukemia and that stopped his bone marrow from producing properly functioning red and white blood cells. With all that coming to a head, it got to the point where comfort was that best option. Dad's struggle ended this morning at 615. I was at his bedside from about 330 on. I was working on his obituary when I noticed his mouth trying to close for the first time since I got home Wednesday. Shortly after, his breathing became really shallow and only about every 9 or 10 seconds. I woke my oldest brother and pointed out the changes. He got mom and I woke my other brother and sister. We were gathered around him talking to him by about 550. At 615, he took one last breath and drifted off. It was more peaceful than I could have ever imagined. Losing him leaves a major hole in this family, but he trained us for this moment our entire lives. I hope something he did or said to you along the way has found a way to stick with you and have an impact.

Patrick says it better than I.  How fitting to pass on Friday of Easter Week one week after Good Friday.  He carried his cross with grace and humility.  In fact, something I didn't know until this past week was that he had a stitch on his right knee from a knee replacement surgery that resembled a cross.  He literally bore a cross on himself. 


What a reminder to pick up our cross and carry it daily and without complaint.

We sat with Dad for two hours before the morning's nurse and occupational therapist arrived at the house.  Those were the fastest two hours of my life.  I will never forget this time with my brothers and parents.  We will never be the same and will never fill the void that is now where Dad used to be.  He will be forever missed by each of us in our own special ways.  My heart breaks for my mom who lost the love of her life who stood at her side for the last 44 years.  When I think of my parents in my mind's eye, it's hard to think of Mom and not Dad at her side.  One of the things Dad said to me in the last week was, "Don't forget Mom".  I had replied saying of course, we won't and we never could forget either of you!  Even to his last days, he was caring for and concerned about his bride's welfare. Don't worry, Dad, we've got this and we will never forget our mother.  Brian has been at her side all day today and we're all tending to each other's needs.  We will get through this together.  You wouldn't want it any other way.

Dad was in the hospital for nine days.

He was home for nine days.

He had slipped away from us three days ago and today his body finished the race.  The last 24 or so hours his body was with us were peaceful which was such a huge relief.  We are saddened beyond belief that we are unable to honor Dad in the way he deserves, with full military honors, at the moment due to COVID-19 but we are told that will come later once the virus goes away....for now, we will have to have a viewing and funeral mass just for immediate family (can't go above ten people) and can ride to the cemetery.  However, we are not allowed to get out of the car which is so hard to bear and hear.  However, I'm trying to focus on the bright side, as Dad so often did, and remind myself that for the important part, the viewing and mass, we are allowed to be there.  Also...what a gift, to go to a mass and receive Communion for the first time since March 7th (Charlotte's birthday)!!  Thank you, Dad, for helping to get us to church in person rather than online.

Speaking of Charlotte, tonight, when video chatting with her, she asked if she could say hi to Pappy like she did last night.  I wasn't prepared for that so soon.  Immediately I teared up and she asked if I was sad because Pappy is still sick?  I explained to her, through tears, that he is all better and with Jesus in Heaven now.  She said, "All better?" and I could tell by her facial expression she thought he is all better and everything is back to how it was.  Thank you, God, for the grace and the words to say what needed to be said for a four year old to understand for now.

I'm going to keep answering her questions and trying to help her keep her connection with Pappy strong by sharing memories and pictures with her over time.  I would love to hear of your memories you have with my Dad.  If you're reading this, and you know Dad, please do share memories by commenting here.  It would be amazing to be able to put them together for my Mom to share at the Celebration or Memorial of His Life we would like to have once the virus is over and we no longer have to socially distance ourselves from loved ones and those who were friends of Dad.

Thank you, again, to each and every single one of you for your prayers, thoughts, texts, messages, and kind thoughts.  I'm sorry that I've not been able to respond to each of you but please know of my deep appreciation and gratitude!

Dad and Meg (two years old) - - I always loved holding Dad's fingers as I'm doing in this picture.  I find myself doing this with my husband's fingers too as a grown up.  So thankful to have such a protective and wonderful man for a father and to have a similar one for a husband now.

This picture reminds me of how Charlotte and Adam look at each other!

My hair is bit darker in this photo compared to the previous one but I love how the poses are somewhat similar.

I'm not the only one who loved receiving hugs from Dad.  Charlotte did, too!

Lost in each other's eyes as they pondered life.  ;)

 Dad snapping a photo during Charlotte's Baptism in July 2016.  He was such a proud grandfather (and father).

I'm glad he's free from all that trapped him now (failing health, limited breathing ability, exhaustion)...this was a picture I snapped as I slept next to his bed last week.  Oh, how I miss him already!!

Mom feeding Dad on Good Friday when he was too weak to do it himself.

Watching Fr. Jack preside at the Good Friday service one week ago...

Dad was such a good "boy dad" and my brothers are better men for it.  They each had a unique and special relationship with Dad.  That was the kind of man he was.  He could make you feel special and important and treat you like you were the only one there with him yet he made everyone feel like that.  It was an honor to sit alongside him with my brothers throughout the last several days.

 

 This is the prayer we prayed with Dad every night.  He always said, "Amen", until three nights ago.  He even had us pray it with him while he was in the hospital over the phone or video chat.  A neighbor had given the prayer card to Mom and Dad years ago but it especially related to Dad's health issues in recent months when Mom and Dad prayed it with more intentionality.

Yesterday

I had sent this picture to Adam the other day saying I didn't want to let go of my Daddy's hand.  It's hard to believe I'm not going to feel his touch again.  I hope he knows how much we all cherished our time with him.

Today....outside is mourning with us as the tears fall.

You're the best man I know and I will never forget you.  Thank you for the gift of your life and mine.  You were always strong in my eyes.  Toward the end, the world may have seen you as broken or weak but you were still strong to me.  You allowed yourself to be vulnerable - to be cared for and taken care of which must have been a huge change for you since you were the one who took care of so many others.  Thank you for always believing in me - for being my ears when I couldn't hear, for picking me up when I got myself in sticky situations, for always listening (even on a 250 mile trip to college), for really seeing me and acknowledging me.  You (and Mom) are my biggest cheerleaders and I'm going to miss you so much as so many others surely will.  Your humble quiet way of living your truly spectacular life has left a huge mark on mine.  I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you proud and living up to your name even if mine has changed.  Once a Kemmery, always a Kemmery, as you well know.

https://www.thomasmsullivanfuneralhome.com/obituary/richard-kemmery