Mom called me a May 30th, 2020. Dad was not doing well and had contracted the COVID-19 virus from the rehab center where he was supposed to get better. I flew down to Tampa. They transported him out of rehab to the hospital. He died on June 2nd.
Everybody’s got a story, right? Well, here is dad’s short story.
Bob was born in Toledo in November of 1946 to Thomas and Theresa (Mejia) Robinson. He was a popular kid as I was told. Intelligent, athletic, wonderful parents, and had a solid upbringing. He was a mix of English and Mexican DNA which made for a handsome son. dad’s little brother, Uncle Jim, was born a few years later on May 4, 1949, in Toledo. These two were as thick as thieves.
He married Susan K Gamertsfelder on January 13th, 1965. Their first child was born on July 25th, 1965 – that’s me – and their second child, a daughter they named Teri Sue, was born on July 22nd, 1967. Of course, Bob loved his boy as any other proud father would, but his little girl was his world. I may be a clone of my father but my sister was Bob Robinson incarnate. She was a black sheep, a do-whatever-the-fuck-I-want, kiss my ass, a whirlwind of a soul. And she was smart and beautiful which helped her get her way and get out of a myriad of situations.
Teri Sue Robinson died on December 14th, 1994 at the age of 27 of cancer. Mom was diagnosed with cancer during that same time. Saying it was a hard time for everybody would be a massive understatement.
Mom, cancer-free to this day, buried herself in work. Mom’s a fairly stoic German girl so at times it was difficult to know exactly when she was truly going into depression. Emotions were not seen often in the Gamertsfelder household but there was plenty of love and support. Dad was a complete 180 when it came to wearing that shit on his sleeve.
I’m told you never really recover from losing a child. I was a new father by then and like most, you wonder how you would handle the horror of that situation. Dad really changed after that. Professionally it affected his sales job – I believe this sucked almost all the life from him. The change made it impossible to go back to the father and husband who was driven to succeed.
Dad sought professional help which was a Godsend. He found a wonderful psychologist and within months dad had joined a support group they had at the same practice. He impressed his doctor enough to actually lead the group meetings (with him present).
That surprised some people but not me. Dad had a real gift of being able to disarm somebody with his candor and general presence and once you were feeling comfortable with him he’d drop the fucking truth hammer on you. Tell you what your real problem is and how you’re responsible for your actions (or inaction). But afterward, he was always the first one to let you know you’re not alone and that he would do whatever it took to help you work through your problems. As he was no angel through his younger years I know this type of counseling helped him come to grips with his own failures and mistakes.
That’s what made him a great salesman and a wonderful human being. He eventually went on to become an ordained minister in his spare time and found joy in officiating wedding ceremonies and speaking at wakes and funerals. The ultimate people person.
I’m sorry we could not physically be with our ultimate people person when he passed. God bless the nurses who cared for him. They were with him, soothing him, playing Johnny Cash and Elvis songs, assuring him he was not alone. He was in a sedated state the last few days; I was given the opportunity to Facetime dad the day he passed.
He was a shell of who he was on the outside. The COVID-19 virus is a mother fucker that way. I was assured by the wonderful nurses tending to him he was comfortable. Told me to take as much time as I wanted to speak with him. I didn’t think I had that much to say, but when I looked at the call time afterward I realized I must not have shut up. I said what I wanted to say. I said things you can imagine a son would bring up if he only had a few more hours to spend with his hero. And then it was over.
I can count on four fingers how many times I watched my mother weep. Two of those fingers were on that day. Your partner of 55 years gone and you couldn’t be there with him. We both kept apologizing to each other. I’m so sorry dad is gone.
I called my Aunt Sharon – Uncle Jim’s wife – and told her the news. You see, this was a double whammy for the Robinson clan. Dad’s little brother Uncle Jim passed away April 26th – 5 weeks before. Aunt Sharon was devastated. I called her a few more times that week. I don’t think the topics discussed were that important but I do know just listening to each other was a comfort. Mom and I did the same thing. We would sit out on the porch and just listen to each other. My daughter and I wrote the obituary and I called people to tell them the news so mom would not get overwhelmed.
Now I’m back home and getting back to work. Like, mom, I take comfort in staying busy. Like dad, I’m showing my emotions. The sadness hits at different times out of nowhere and I remember this happening after Teri Sue passed. My daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids are with mom this week and I am grateful they are spending time with their grandma. My wife has been a saint through this because sometimes my sadness can turn me into walking asshole at times.
That’s where we are today with this. Dad got to spend Father’s Day with his daughter – an image and moment that really warms my heart.