The Passing of a Generation

"In the beginning ..."

Today is December 14th, 2024. I am now 83 years old. I have two friends who have lost a parent within this past week.

Last week, I honored the Pearl Harbor survivors. There were only sixteen survivors in attendance.

I feel it necessary to pass along the events of my parents' passing to prevent their knowledge from being forever lost in the Akashic Cloud. So, I am writing this article for all of the Roberts Clan. They should read, download, and add it to their family genealogy folder. Perhaps it might even tempt you to write an article about your family.

Paternal Grandparents

Maternal Grandparents

Mildred was Shirley's mother and my eternal grandmother. “Suicide" Ted Elder was Mildred's 7th husband.

My Parents

Gerry and Shirlee were my parents and each other's lovers. Gerry was stationed aboard a ship in Norfolk, Va. He and several of his shipmates had gone to an off-base roller rink. According to the story, Gerry saw Shirlee skating and announced to his buddies,

"I am going to marry that girl."

"What's her name?"

"I don't know. I need to go ask her."

And they were together for the rest of their lives.

When they married, he was 20, and she was 18. I was born a year later with three siblings, following two years apart. So there we were: The Roberts Clan. Gerry and Shirlee with their four kids, a boy, a girl, a boy, and a girl. We used to joke that we had all grown up together.

They always seemed to get jobs so they could work together around the World. Later, they owned Kahluah Kennel and Robalee Kennel together.

Gerry's Passing

My father was not feeling well and decided to see his doctor. Doc Watson called me on my mobile phone and asked me to come by his office immediately and take my father to the hospital on Grant Road in Mountain View. He said that my father needed to be placed on oxygen immediately, and I could move him to the hospital faster than he could call an ambulance.

I drove my father the mile and a quarter to the El Camino emergency entrance. At that time, I was a first responder with San Jose Search and Rescue, so I took him immediately to the ambulance entrance. I dropped him off and returned to my car to move it to a non-emergency parking space.

I knew a lot of the emergency room people, and they checked him in very quickly. On their emergency status board, they had my dad's name and status "shortness of breath" written in typical hospital-ese shorthand, "SOB."

The ward nurse recognized me, and we exchanged greetings. She asked the reason for my visit. I told her my father was being admitted today. I pointed to the status board with SOB after my father's name. "Oh, I see you know my father already."

He spent a week in the hospital on a high-protein diet, gaining strength before returning home on Friday. The next day, Saturday, Gerry cooked steaks on the grill. I went to the local burger joint around the corner and bought french fries and chocolate milkshakes for everybody while Shirlee made a large salad.

On Sunday, Gerry did light work and painted around the house and the kennel.

Monday, Doc Watson came by the house to see how he was doing and prescribed oxygen availability. I could see he was slowly getting worse, so I spent more time around the kennel.

Later in the week, I went to see him to talk to him and see if he needed anything. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and breathing laboriously. I asked him if he needed anything, to which he replied no. I asked him if he felt he would like to return to the hospital, to which he replied, "Hell, no!"

I went to the living room and told my mom about my conversation with Gerry. When I returned to talk to him, he had slumped over and died.

Shirlee requested that I make the arrangements for my father's cremation. I called the mortuary and opened the gates so the first responders could drive into the backyard and transport him to the mortuary. I assisted with loading the hearse, and in the typical naval protocol, I saluted it and my father as they departed the property. I asked my mom about the placement of Jerry's cremains. She asked me to keep them at my house since I lived next door.

Shirlee' Passing

I needed to support my mother and run the kennel. She would often call me, saying she had a craving for dinner. I would call the restaurant and order dinner, pick it up, and drive to her home, where we would share dinner. A few years later, Shirley developed a tumor in her chest. Because of her age and fragility, her medical team decided it would probably be dangerous to do open chest surgery, so they put her on in-home hospice care.

On the night that she passed, her Hospice Care team bathed her, washed her hair, and helped her with her makeup. I spent some time with her that evening, and she passed quietly in her sleep.

Burial At Sea

My mother and father had decided early on that they would like to be buried at Sea off the Farallon Islands at the entrance to the San Francisco Bay.

Since my father's cremains were not on the property where he died, the mortuary had to get a permit from the county to move his ashes. I entered my address in the appropriate box on the Forum. Another question asked for the location: a fireproof safe in my office.

The mortuary people asked why I had placed Gerry's ashes in a fireproof safe. I quipped, "I guess you just had to know my father."

My Siblings

The Roberts Clan. Gerry and Shirlee with their four kids, a boy (Robin), a girl (Sherry), a boy (Philip) , and a girl (Valerie, later "Genesis" or "Gennie").