Today, of course, is Father's Day. I am not a father, and my own father made his transition, over 12 years ago. I wouldn't say that I celebrate Father's Day, but I do observe it, in my own way. You see, I have created my own holiday, out of this day, and this is my first time sharing it with anyone. It has been my own private observance, for many years.
It doesn't have a name, this observance. Father's Day is as good a name as any. The name is important. It might as well be called Kevin Sterenchuk Day. He was/is the kind of person that should have an official day, of some sort. I know, I know. A lot of fathers fit that bill. Many of them should have their own day too. I can only speak about my own. He's what I know, and writers write about what they know (at least that's what their studies tell them to do.
In the years, since his transition, I have made sure not to canonize him...though there is much to recommend this. My father was human, really human...human in many of the best ways. He was gentle and nurturing, devoted to his wife and family (nothing was more important, to him), understanding, patient, generous (with his time, money, and energy), really really smart, mischievously funny, open minded, and wise.
I've written about all of that, before. I've written about his gentle ways, of teaching his then know-it-all son. I've written about how he, and my mother, raised their children not be color-blind or gender-blind, but to interact with people, based on their character. Skin color and gender were just part of the mix. What was important, was how they treated others, how they lived...integrity was a big thing, growing up in our home.
I've written about the fact that my dad was a healer. He was Firefighter and a Paramedic, in the city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He excelled at everything he did, and very quickly, moved through the ranks, to become a District Chief. He created the City's first Hazardous Materials Team, innovated their Confined Space Rescue protocols, helped create terrorism preparedness initiatives (well before 911), and helped make it more possible, for women to serve as Firefighters.
You can see why it is a challenge, for me to not beatify this man, my father. I may already be in that territory, now. There is much more, but that is not what I wanted to share with you, on this Father's Day. I wanted to share, with you, one of the most moving testaments, to love, that I have ever read or heard. It is a small part of the story, of the day my father made his transition. It is a powerful example of the power of love...how love can make a dead man come back to life...even if for just a moment.
My father was at Central Fire Station, on the last day of his life. As much as he loved his work, I used to believe that it would have been his second choice. The first, being at home. After some time, I realize that this would have been his first choice...not wanting my mother to experience it. That's just how he was. All part of that self-sacrifice thing that must be built into most Firefighters. The details, about how it all went down, or about what it was that killed him, are not important. What happens next, is.
We get what we give, and in Kevin Sterenchuk's last day, all of his generosity and love and good old-fashioned kindness were returned. I have to pause here, because the next bit is so beautiful, that it is overwhelming, sometimes. For a very long time, two teams, made up of Firefighters and Paramedics, took turns...administering CPR and other life-saving measures. They worked way past the time they would have, normally. Way past the time my father would have.
When they got to Mercy Hospital, it was more of the same. No one was ready to let him die. Somewhere, during all of this, my mother was called, and she made her way to the hospital. By this time, my father's heart was not beating on its own, and he was not breathing on his own. He would be dead, if his friends and colleagues had not been breathing and pumping life into him. Another pause, to take a a deep breath, here...right before the love story part kicks in.
When my mother walked in the room, my father was being attended by these two teams, who refused to quit or let him die. In the moment that she walked in, his heart began to beat on its own...for just a moment...before he eventually made his transition. I believe, in that moment, when he was, for all practical purposes, already passed...Kevin Sterenchuk, on some level of understanding, felt the love of his life, and tried very hard to come back. Just for her. It was the only time that his heart beat on its own.
I was not there. I was in Dubuque, selling cell phones, at that moment. I can tell you that this story was told by lots of different people, who were there. Their versions are all a little different, until they get to the part when my mom walked in. For each of them, this moment is the same. During this whole experience, this is the one time, when his heart beat of its own power. Amazing. Beautiful. A living example of the power of love. It is one of the most beautiful and empowering and moving love stories, I have ever heard, read, or seen.
Thank you, for letting me share this with you. We all have our particular stories, but when we let ourselves, we can see truth and beauty, in another's story. This is not sad story, for me. For me, this is a testament to the power of love, and is a constant reminder that anything is possible. It is miracle and blessing, and I am grateful for it, as I ma grateful for all of you...and this connection with you. I love you all.
Patrick
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