I am Susy, Dennis's neighbor for the last 10 years. I can't begin to thank your dad for everything that he has done for me. When I first went house shopping, I saw Dennis outside with Peggy and went over to ask him about the neighborhood and he quickly went and described each of his neighbors in detail. I immediately wanted to move into that house and be part of the community. I have never regretted since. It has been the best neighborhood I have ever lived in.
Since day one, your dad has been like a Dad to me. When I would go over and ask for anything he would stop what he was doing and help me. I loved him so much that I painted my house the same color as his under his recommendation that we would be the best looking house in the neighborhood.
We would take turns mowing each others lawns and he would boast about his little cute Mexican gardener and I would boast about my Irish handyman. He loved making our grass shine and I was always afraid to walk on my side to ruin his handy work.
We eventually created "the Bistro" and worked on creating on own little haven in there. I would sit outside and time to see how long it would take your dad to come out and talk to me. The last time I was there my heart broke to know that he wouldn't be coming out again.
Don't get me wrong...we all know how much your dad talks...so I would make sure that when I went out there I was ready for Dennis time. When I got married, It took a long time for me to want to move...ask my husband I was depressed for many months because I felt I couldn't leave Dennis. So I agreed that I would still take my turn mowing the lawn just to visit him. (plus he had trained me to mow the lawn just the way he liked it)
I feel bad that I haven't spent as much time with him in the past few years, but I want you to know how much he has meant to me. As I sit here crying, my heart aches not for Dennis, for I know he will be with Lord so God better be ready to just sit back and listen to his stories for a while.
 It aches for me for I am losing such a special person in my life. Your Dad is an amazing, loving, generous, and witty man. I will miss spending time with him the most and sitting in the Bistro and talking with him.
I felt very loved by your father and I return loved him.
|
Dad
in his backyard haven
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
The Bistro - From Susy
Peter Celano
Dearest Peggy, Liz, Joe, Molly, Amy, Katie, and Family;
Thank you very much for the beautiful email, bringing me up-to-date on our beloved Denny. Remaining as technologically-challenged as ever--I have never even attempted blogging--I have determined to place a few, scattered thoughts here as you look to reflect on the powerful impact your husband, father, and my friend had on my life, as well as on that of many, many others instead. Please bear with me as I do so. I am not quite sure where to begin nor how to place my many thoughts into words.
Perhaps most striking to me in Dennis through the years has been his ever-present smile and good humor. I have racked my brain all evening and cannot honestly recall a time when I ever saw Denny without a smile on his face, no matter how serious a situation or weighty a topic of conversation, be it during his tales of working in the defense industry with the power to initiate a nuclear strike, or his seemingly endless patience with me and you, Peggy, as we would spend literally hours on the telephone attempting to solve the problems of school, the world, the Church, The Kingdom, or Life Itself for that matter, only to decide in the end it is all better left "in God's hands" anyway.
I think of our many carpools together to St. Francis meetings, parties, and events when a joke would always seem to break the somber mood at just the right time. I think of a man whose ability to look life in the eye with a gentle assurance that All is always Well granted him the gift of being able to accomplish more here than those of us who take life far too seriously ever could or would.
I think of a man who was always present. Present to you, his family. Present to us, his friends. Present to all: his community, his church, and to the very large chunk of this crazy world God granted him to mold, touch, and love. And mold, touch, and love he did, in the tender yet impacting way only Dennis O'Donnell could.
I think of him chiding me about anything under the sun whenever he could find--or create!--the chance, be it over the sink as he poured me a drink in the kitchen, as he'd meet me or walk me to the door before or after gathering, or over the phone as he'd say in his ever-cheerful, jovial voice, "Well, if it isn't 'Peter's Pence' again..." If I were calling for you, Peg, nine times out of ten I'd forget what I called about in the first place! No matter how gloomy my world would ever seem, a quick chat with Dennis was always the best medicine.
Please know Dennis brings a smile to my heart each and every time I think of him. As you continue to care for him during this very trying and painful time, know that my thoughts, prayers, and love are with you. I am here--and will continue to be so. Do not hesitate to be in touch should any need arise. May God richly bless you, take good care, and always remember that I will ever be
Yours truly,
Peter
Thank you very much for the beautiful email, bringing me up-to-date on our beloved Denny. Remaining as technologically-challenged as ever--I have never even attempted blogging--I have determined to place a few, scattered thoughts here as you look to reflect on the powerful impact your husband, father, and my friend had on my life, as well as on that of many, many others instead. Please bear with me as I do so. I am not quite sure where to begin nor how to place my many thoughts into words.
Perhaps most striking to me in Dennis through the years has been his ever-present smile and good humor. I have racked my brain all evening and cannot honestly recall a time when I ever saw Denny without a smile on his face, no matter how serious a situation or weighty a topic of conversation, be it during his tales of working in the defense industry with the power to initiate a nuclear strike, or his seemingly endless patience with me and you, Peggy, as we would spend literally hours on the telephone attempting to solve the problems of school, the world, the Church, The Kingdom, or Life Itself for that matter, only to decide in the end it is all better left "in God's hands" anyway.
I think of our many carpools together to St. Francis meetings, parties, and events when a joke would always seem to break the somber mood at just the right time. I think of a man whose ability to look life in the eye with a gentle assurance that All is always Well granted him the gift of being able to accomplish more here than those of us who take life far too seriously ever could or would.
I think of a man who was always present. Present to you, his family. Present to us, his friends. Present to all: his community, his church, and to the very large chunk of this crazy world God granted him to mold, touch, and love. And mold, touch, and love he did, in the tender yet impacting way only Dennis O'Donnell could.
I think of him chiding me about anything under the sun whenever he could find--or create!--the chance, be it over the sink as he poured me a drink in the kitchen, as he'd meet me or walk me to the door before or after gathering, or over the phone as he'd say in his ever-cheerful, jovial voice, "Well, if it isn't 'Peter's Pence' again..." If I were calling for you, Peg, nine times out of ten I'd forget what I called about in the first place! No matter how gloomy my world would ever seem, a quick chat with Dennis was always the best medicine.
Please know Dennis brings a smile to my heart each and every time I think of him. As you continue to care for him during this very trying and painful time, know that my thoughts, prayers, and love are with you. I am here--and will continue to be so. Do not hesitate to be in touch should any need arise. May God richly bless you, take good care, and always remember that I will ever be
Yours truly,
Peter
Maureen Funk
Dear Aunt Peg, Uncle Dennis and Family,
Yours is probably the first blog I have ever read. Even in its sadness, it is beautiful. I often wonder how and why people hang on. This time it seems that it is giving all of us a chance to pass along our love to all of you. Bob and I were fortunate to visit with you, your Mom and Terry & Shirley a few years ago. Growing up, I always remember Frank & Jackie saying how the California O'Donnells were the consummate hosts, they loved visiting all of you.
We all share in your sadness but also celebrate the person that we all had a chance to know and will stay in our hearts forever. Love, Maureen & Bob
Yours is probably the first blog I have ever read. Even in its sadness, it is beautiful. I often wonder how and why people hang on. This time it seems that it is giving all of us a chance to pass along our love to all of you. Bob and I were fortunate to visit with you, your Mom and Terry & Shirley a few years ago. Growing up, I always remember Frank & Jackie saying how the California O'Donnells were the consummate hosts, they loved visiting all of you.
We all share in your sadness but also celebrate the person that we all had a chance to know and will stay in our hearts forever. Love, Maureen & Bob
Dirt, Rocks and Missiles: Part One
On Sunday Katie and I had a bit of energy to start digging through the garage. This is a 3 stall place that is filled with Dad's hobbies and tools and trains and Christmas decorations - just to scratch the surface.
OMG!
Katie was crawling around in the rafters. Here are some of the things we found:
OMG!
Katie was crawling around in the rafters. Here are some of the things we found:
- 1 deflated dinosaur pool flotation device. We don't have a pool and Katie, the youngest is 30 now. Not sure who last used that thing. It was nearby the Slip and Slide that we were never allowed to use because it was too hard on the grass.
- 1 drafting table. Missing the table part. This had been in Joe's room in Arkansas. Last seen standing in 1989.
- Bags and Bags of insulation.
- Wall paper rolls from our kitchen in Arkansas. Circa 1984
- Rubber molds of rocks - for his train displays
- More Christmas lights than necessary to light the outside of the White House
- Reels of movies
- Photographic slides on glass
- tripods
- luggage
- More tools than a Sears showroom
- Trains, Train parts, train tracks, miniature trees and train buildings
- these things just scratch the surface of what is in there.
This moment took me back to the summer of 1989 when we moved from Arkansas to California. Somehow Joe and I found ourselves left alone at our house in Arkansas for a few weeks. Mom had taken Amy and Katie to visit her parents and Dad was working already in California. Joe and I, (19 and 17) were left back at the house and given the task to start packing up the garage until the movers came,
The moment was quite similar. We were sorting through things that belonged to his RR hobby, things from his Air Force days and random things that Dad always seemed to find another use for.
Overwhelmed, we began to just fill the boxes.
Our favorite box title? Dirt, Rocks and Missiles
and Liz wore yellow pants
This may be irrelevant to most anything, but I liked this part of the day, so I'm going to post it.
Yesterday while we waited for Liz and Joe to come home, the rest of us were pretty "comfortable" in our clothing choices. We are sleep deprived and greatly in need of a spa. I was showered, but in some sort of pajama/yoga clothing outfit.
Liz arrived looking like a fresh lemon.
She had a lovely white shirt and some bright yellow pants.
"Nice pants" I said.
"What?" she declared? "I was already wearing this when you called me!"
"No, I like the pants. They remind me of Dad." I said. I also like the fact that she looked fresh and cheerful. As a result I found myself heading upstairs to put on some lipstick.
Dad would have liked her pants. He also always appreciated when we looked dressed up and cheerful.
Also, Dad had these yellow sweatpants. They were a terrible mustard color, but he always wore them around the house, Christmas morning, underneath his jeans when he was cold. He wore them a lot.
And so, yesterday Liz wore yellow pants and I liked them. They reminded me of Dad.
Yesterday while we waited for Liz and Joe to come home, the rest of us were pretty "comfortable" in our clothing choices. We are sleep deprived and greatly in need of a spa. I was showered, but in some sort of pajama/yoga clothing outfit.
Liz arrived looking like a fresh lemon.
She had a lovely white shirt and some bright yellow pants.
"Nice pants" I said.
"What?" she declared? "I was already wearing this when you called me!"
"No, I like the pants. They remind me of Dad." I said. I also like the fact that she looked fresh and cheerful. As a result I found myself heading upstairs to put on some lipstick.
Dad would have liked her pants. He also always appreciated when we looked dressed up and cheerful.
Also, Dad had these yellow sweatpants. They were a terrible mustard color, but he always wore them around the house, Christmas morning, underneath his jeans when he was cold. He wore them a lot.
And so, yesterday Liz wore yellow pants and I liked them. They reminded me of Dad.
What's your song?
On Monday morning we had many conversations with the hospice care team. Dad's condition had changed enough during the night that new conversations were to be had. He stopped drinking water and Ensure on Sunday night - unable to swallow without choking. His breathing overnight had become much more labored and he is much less alert.
The hospice staff recommended that we have only our own immediate family with Dad on Monday. So Joe, flew back down from San Francisco (he was here the week prior) and Liz drove over from Irvine. On Monday evening It was just Mom and Dad and the five of us kids hanging out in the house and with Dad.
We thought it would be helpful to be around him all together. We prayed for him and tried to help him know that we were all there. We talked with him and had some one on one conversations.
Then we decided maybe we should sing to him. We tried to sing some Johnny Cash. That only made us laugh because we were so bad at it. We tried a few other things which also turned out badly. Then we turned to Pandora for some help. Ring of Fire? nope. Ghost Riders in the Sky? We found ourselves wondering what it was they were really singing about. Having dialogue over the song rather than just letting Dad enjoy it. We tried Eidle Weiss from the Sound of Music because Dad always enjoyed it when we could sing that. Earlier I had wanted to play some religious songs. Others put a kabosh to that. No more crying. We just can't handle that right now.
So, I came to wonder, if I have the chance to die surrounded by my loving family someday, what would I want to be my song? I'll have to start thinking about that. More importantly, how will I continue to live my life so that the right song is obvious. Either way, we had a good time with Dad last night. Chatting and singing and praying.
It's 5 am on Tuesday morning now. Dad has a fever and Mom and Joe were taking care of him for that. We continue to rotate him in bed every two hours, give him medicine for his pain, check his blood sugar every 4 hours. He is on oxygen for comfort. Today, we continue to wait and pray and love and laugh and cry. We will get crabby and be stressed, but we will love him up to heaven and I'm sure most any beautiful song with do.
The hospice staff recommended that we have only our own immediate family with Dad on Monday. So Joe, flew back down from San Francisco (he was here the week prior) and Liz drove over from Irvine. On Monday evening It was just Mom and Dad and the five of us kids hanging out in the house and with Dad.
We thought it would be helpful to be around him all together. We prayed for him and tried to help him know that we were all there. We talked with him and had some one on one conversations.
Then we decided maybe we should sing to him. We tried to sing some Johnny Cash. That only made us laugh because we were so bad at it. We tried a few other things which also turned out badly. Then we turned to Pandora for some help. Ring of Fire? nope. Ghost Riders in the Sky? We found ourselves wondering what it was they were really singing about. Having dialogue over the song rather than just letting Dad enjoy it. We tried Eidle Weiss from the Sound of Music because Dad always enjoyed it when we could sing that. Earlier I had wanted to play some religious songs. Others put a kabosh to that. No more crying. We just can't handle that right now.
So, I came to wonder, if I have the chance to die surrounded by my loving family someday, what would I want to be my song? I'll have to start thinking about that. More importantly, how will I continue to live my life so that the right song is obvious. Either way, we had a good time with Dad last night. Chatting and singing and praying.
It's 5 am on Tuesday morning now. Dad has a fever and Mom and Joe were taking care of him for that. We continue to rotate him in bed every two hours, give him medicine for his pain, check his blood sugar every 4 hours. He is on oxygen for comfort. Today, we continue to wait and pray and love and laugh and cry. We will get crabby and be stressed, but we will love him up to heaven and I'm sure most any beautiful song with do.
Jesus Paparazzi
On Sunday morning me, Mom, Amy and Katie went to church together while our neighbor sat with Dad. We deliberately chose the 7:30 am mass because we wanted to be low profile. Mom was employed at this parish for nearly 20 years and Dad was active in the parish council, RICA and other activities. We knew people would want to have an update about Dad. We also knew we needed to be together in quiet prayer.
We sat in the back for once. Usually Mom and Dad like the front row pew. We kept a low profile. After mass had begun, Mom whispered that she wanted to leave immediately after communion. There were several people she recognized and she didn't have the energy to give all of the updates to each of them after mass.
The Sign of Peace proved challenging. "How is Dennis?" came from several around us rather than the customary "Peace be with you." We watched as Mom had to force out the words, "He is at home. He is in hospice." and hold back tears.
After communion we waited until as late as possible and decided to leave. Amy first, the Mom, then Katie and me. We flanked Mom down the aisle: one on each side and me in the rear. We walked with a good clip so that we could get to the car without a meltdown.
Then, they started coming. It's amazing to see how quickly some senior citizens can clip through a crowd. Mom passed by a group of cronies. "I love you all, but I don't want to talk right now." she declared.
An old man came up to Mom and started holding her hands. I began to physically separate them as if I was her secret service agent while saying, "We are trying to get to the car..."
Mom introduced us, "This is Father Pierre..."
"Oh, I'm so sorry Father, but Mom is about to have a breakdown and we want to get her to the car. Yes, please come by and visit today or tomorrow..."
We rushed away and stuffed her into the backseat as quickly as possible. All of us holding back tears.
As soon as we were all in safely, Katie declared, "Man, Jesus Paparazzi!"
Then we all burst out laughing and headed to Starbucks.
It's comforting to know that so many people love and cherish our parents. They are good and giving. I've found that church can be a very challenging place to grieve and find solace in the Lord. So many of his servants have good intentions to play a role but they can really interrupt the conversations one is having with God.
Every day brings laughter and tears and bickering and conflict. Every day brings us all closer in union of this privilege it is to usher Dad into heaven. I pray the Paparazzi up there are ready and waiting because it will be a grand entrance!
We sat in the back for once. Usually Mom and Dad like the front row pew. We kept a low profile. After mass had begun, Mom whispered that she wanted to leave immediately after communion. There were several people she recognized and she didn't have the energy to give all of the updates to each of them after mass.
The Sign of Peace proved challenging. "How is Dennis?" came from several around us rather than the customary "Peace be with you." We watched as Mom had to force out the words, "He is at home. He is in hospice." and hold back tears.
After communion we waited until as late as possible and decided to leave. Amy first, the Mom, then Katie and me. We flanked Mom down the aisle: one on each side and me in the rear. We walked with a good clip so that we could get to the car without a meltdown.
Then, they started coming. It's amazing to see how quickly some senior citizens can clip through a crowd. Mom passed by a group of cronies. "I love you all, but I don't want to talk right now." she declared.
An old man came up to Mom and started holding her hands. I began to physically separate them as if I was her secret service agent while saying, "We are trying to get to the car..."
Mom introduced us, "This is Father Pierre..."
"Oh, I'm so sorry Father, but Mom is about to have a breakdown and we want to get her to the car. Yes, please come by and visit today or tomorrow..."
We rushed away and stuffed her into the backseat as quickly as possible. All of us holding back tears.
As soon as we were all in safely, Katie declared, "Man, Jesus Paparazzi!"
Then we all burst out laughing and headed to Starbucks.
It's comforting to know that so many people love and cherish our parents. They are good and giving. I've found that church can be a very challenging place to grieve and find solace in the Lord. So many of his servants have good intentions to play a role but they can really interrupt the conversations one is having with God.
Every day brings laughter and tears and bickering and conflict. Every day brings us all closer in union of this privilege it is to usher Dad into heaven. I pray the Paparazzi up there are ready and waiting because it will be a grand entrance!
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