Saturday, March 25, 2006
Bridget - Frank Beacon
Dear Bert,
I want you to know I sincerely and thoroughly enjoyed seeing you and your family this week. I felt that it was a beautiful celebration of Herb's life. Thank you for including me in the circle of friendship in your family. It means more to me than you know.
I ghostwrite a weekly genealogy column called "Frank Beacon" for an online newsletter for Everton. "Frank" is a 40-something genealogist who writes about family history topics. I wanted you to be able to read it.
Love and light,
Bridget
THE LAST CHAPTER
By Frank Beacon
"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,Either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing."--Benjamin Franklin, 1735, Poor Richard's Almanac
Millions the world over have been watching the Winter Olympics in Torino, Italy this month. Eyes glued to the set, they have gazed upon their heroes as they attained great heights and depths of athleticism as well as gold, silver and bronze medals. Quietly, on Sunday, an old friend of mine passed away. Even though he was a big, big man and an avid sports fan, Herb was one of those gentle spirits you find every so often, that never leaves a mark on your body, but a significant footprint on your heart.
For 15 years, he struggled with a progressive neurological disease called Inclusion Body Myositis. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you a lot about it except to say that for most people, it is quite debilitating. For Herb, however, it was merely a challenge to overcome. No matter what the disease did to his body, he found a way to circumvent it, to rise above it. He either built a tool to do what his body couldn’t do, or enlisted the help of someone that could build it for him. That disease never conquered him; in fact, he died of untreatable cancer, discovered just days ago.
Herb is a hero in my eyes. He may never have won a gold medal, but he was a superb genealogist and writer. He had a way with words and enjoyed the task of quietly and thoroughly compiling his family history, including several books. These will be treasured even more by his family, now that he’s not here to tell the tales himself. Every word, every story was an act of love for those he was leaving behind as he prepared to move on to his next great adventure. And the way he left this one gave an example worthy of emulation.
When doctors operated on Herb last week, they found his body infested with the cancer. It was so bad they literally stitched him up and sent him home. A care specialist was sent to assist him through his last hours, and when she got to know the person inside the frail body, she cried, “This is so sad!”
Herb looked at her with compassion. “Every good book has to have a final chapter,” he said. “I plan for mine to be the best it can be.” And that’s exactly what he did.
Even though his family knew he had to be suffering greatly, Herb never showed it. He called his family to him from the far reaches of the globe where they have settled over the years. He waited until each one of them came to say their goodbyes. He spoke of his love for them in his gentle way and expressed his appreciation for their friendship. Then quietly, Sunday morning, he passed away in his sleep. No drama, no unfinished business, no loose ends. Every twist in the story that was his found the proverbial happy ending. On his computer, he left instructions and list of items to be taken care of. He also had written his own obituary – usually one of those hard and painful chores for families before a funeral. In simple, loving ways, he showed courage and spirit, writing the things worth writing, all way up until the last paragraph.
Just a thought,
Frank Beacon
3/13/06
My Ancestors Found
I want you to know I sincerely and thoroughly enjoyed seeing you and your family this week. I felt that it was a beautiful celebration of Herb's life. Thank you for including me in the circle of friendship in your family. It means more to me than you know.
I ghostwrite a weekly genealogy column called "Frank Beacon" for an online newsletter for Everton. "Frank" is a 40-something genealogist who writes about family history topics. I wanted you to be able to read it.
Love and light,
Bridget
THE LAST CHAPTER
By Frank Beacon
"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,Either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing."--Benjamin Franklin, 1735, Poor Richard's Almanac
Millions the world over have been watching the Winter Olympics in Torino, Italy this month. Eyes glued to the set, they have gazed upon their heroes as they attained great heights and depths of athleticism as well as gold, silver and bronze medals. Quietly, on Sunday, an old friend of mine passed away. Even though he was a big, big man and an avid sports fan, Herb was one of those gentle spirits you find every so often, that never leaves a mark on your body, but a significant footprint on your heart.
For 15 years, he struggled with a progressive neurological disease called Inclusion Body Myositis. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you a lot about it except to say that for most people, it is quite debilitating. For Herb, however, it was merely a challenge to overcome. No matter what the disease did to his body, he found a way to circumvent it, to rise above it. He either built a tool to do what his body couldn’t do, or enlisted the help of someone that could build it for him. That disease never conquered him; in fact, he died of untreatable cancer, discovered just days ago.
Herb is a hero in my eyes. He may never have won a gold medal, but he was a superb genealogist and writer. He had a way with words and enjoyed the task of quietly and thoroughly compiling his family history, including several books. These will be treasured even more by his family, now that he’s not here to tell the tales himself. Every word, every story was an act of love for those he was leaving behind as he prepared to move on to his next great adventure. And the way he left this one gave an example worthy of emulation.
When doctors operated on Herb last week, they found his body infested with the cancer. It was so bad they literally stitched him up and sent him home. A care specialist was sent to assist him through his last hours, and when she got to know the person inside the frail body, she cried, “This is so sad!”
Herb looked at her with compassion. “Every good book has to have a final chapter,” he said. “I plan for mine to be the best it can be.” And that’s exactly what he did.
Even though his family knew he had to be suffering greatly, Herb never showed it. He called his family to him from the far reaches of the globe where they have settled over the years. He waited until each one of them came to say their goodbyes. He spoke of his love for them in his gentle way and expressed his appreciation for their friendship. Then quietly, Sunday morning, he passed away in his sleep. No drama, no unfinished business, no loose ends. Every twist in the story that was his found the proverbial happy ending. On his computer, he left instructions and list of items to be taken care of. He also had written his own obituary – usually one of those hard and painful chores for families before a funeral. In simple, loving ways, he showed courage and spirit, writing the things worth writing, all way up until the last paragraph.
Just a thought,
Frank Beacon
3/13/06
My Ancestors Found
// posted by Ellie @ 9:39 AM 
