Elvern Kletscher's 1950s military photo
HIS OBITUARY READS IN PART: From 1952-1953, he served in the U.S. Army during the Korean Conflict. He served on the front lines, receiving the Purple Heart after being wounded…He enjoyed his weekly visits with his veterans support group. He enjoyed bird watching, making horseradish and tomato juice with his family.
Elvern Kletscher passed away Thursday, April 3, 2003, at the Sunwood Good Samaritan Center in Redwood Falls, Minnesota at the age of 72 years and 29 days.
Yesterday, on the eight-year anniversary of my father’s death, I failed to remember. How could I? How could I forget the day he died, the day I lost my dad? How could I?
It breaks my heart that I would forget. This failure to remember the date of his death seems like a dishonor to the father I loved. He was a man who worked hard tending the earth, who loved his family and God. He was a soldier who served his country and, because of his time on the killing fields of Korea, suffered from a lifetime of demons that at times robbed me of my father.
But in the end, in his last days, I came to terms with the issues that sometimes made life with him difficult and challenging. I saw only the goodness as I stood at his bedside in the Veterans Administration Hospital where he lay dying of cancer and congestive heart failure.
As I held his hand, stroked his thick white hair, held a straw to his lips, I tried to be brave, to cheer him, to comfort him.
But when I couldn’t keep my emotions in check any more, I fled his room, stood outside his hospital room and wept.
Once I pulled myself back together, I returned to his bedside, listened to him tell me he was going to a better place, that he wanted all of us to take care of Mom. And then I cried, right there, holding nothing back because I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.
Two days later, after being transported back to his home county, into a nursing home, my dad died.
And on April 7 we buried him, deep in the soil, in the hillside cemetery that overlooks his beloved prairie, the place where, except for his time in the military, he lived his entire life.
On that gloomy April day of biting cold wind, I held my mom close, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as she shivered uncontrollably. Together with my siblings we huddled inside a tent, next to the coffin.
As the guns fired in a military salute, as taps sounded their mournful wail, as my mom accepted a carefully folded American flag, I wept.
Today I weep, too, as I remember the father I loved.
© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Thank you so much for giving us all permission to remember as we can – and to forgive ourselves when we cannot.
Excellent point.
I feel especially bad because I phoned my mom yesterday, as I typically do every weekend, and failed to say anything to her about my dad. I’m sure she did not forget. But she did not say a word to me.
You made ME cry! I also blogged back in January about the loss of my dad, but mine’s much less succinct than your heartrending tribute to your dad. And I’ve also forgotten death anniversaries and birthdays. I think that means we’re healing…
http://barbilou.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-dad.html
I thought the same thing as I was sobbing over my computer keyboard this morning writing this post. Maybe because I forgot, I am beginning to heal.
Don’t be so hard on yourself. Dad would have wanted us to remember him in the fun times. You remember-pitching us the softball, stoplight go light, bad mitton, He might have watched,but he was there and he loved us. That is all that matters.
Well said. I do remember the fun times and the love he showed us, in his own way.
Oh yes, memories. One of my thoughts is when I was in high school and your grandpa came to pick me up after I had stayed overnight in Wabasso with friends. Your Dad was sitting in the front seat with my Dad and as your Dad waved at me, my friends said: “Who is that?!!! He is handsome!!!” Of course after saying “my brother-in-law”, they all said “oh”. No more questions. Needless to say, yes, “handsome”.
Aunt Dorothy, thank you for sharing this sweet memory. You just made me smile on a day when I’ve cried more than I’ve laughed. Really, I treasure stories like this about my dad that I’ve never heard.
What a lovely and moving post. What an unusual name your dad has.
Don’t be so hard on yourself, you have had quite a bit on your plate as of late.
I’ve never really thought about my dad’s name, but, yes, it is different. However, everyone knew him simply as Vern.
I’m trying not to be too hard on myself. I was writing in the moment, which was an emotional one.
Uncle Vern has a special place in all our hearts. Thanks for sharing those memories Audrey – tears are healthy, right?
Thank you, Janelle. It means a lot to me that my dad is remembered and that you took the time to tell me that.
And, yes, tears are healthy. I told someone a few weeks ago that God wouldn’t have given us tears if He hadn’t meant for us to cry.
Thank you for writing this moving piece, Audrey. I am sure it brought tears and memories and smiles to your many readers just as it did for me.
This was a difficult piece to write in many respects because it is so deeply personal. Yet, I think that is why this post resonates with so many readers, like you.