Frederick Joseph Perran,
December 1956-September 2013.
Rest In Peace, Rick...
“I'm the one who’s got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.” ― Jimi Hendrix, ~Axis: Bold as Love
Go Rest High On That Mountain-Vince Gill/Alison Krauss/Ricky Skaggs
It's Always Now~Sam Harris
Have you ever been enjoying a beautiful day, when suddenly the bottom falls out of it? That’s what happened yesterday when my brother-in-law, Jimmy, called to tell us that Tom’s older brother Rick was no longer with us.
My head did that awkward tilt that it does when you don’t believe you’ve heard something correctly.
“What?” I said, after Tom informed me that his brother had died.
My husband had to sit down because his legs couldn’t hold him upright any longer as he repeated the disbelieving news that Jimmy had relayed to him. His voice broke as he spoke those awful words.
Then, the day wasn’t beautiful anymore.
It’s never an easy thing to receive this kind of news. Never. It’s especially hard when it comes too soon. People know when too soon is – 56 years old is too soon. Details were sketchy. Suspicions were high. Heart attack. It appears that’s what had come to claim Rick – the same thing that had claimed their father 25 years prior.
“Man....” I remember saying...feeling at a loss, not knowing what else to say. It’s hard to collect words and form them into a cohesive sentence when one’s brain has shut down. I could only manage to muster the same offering that my brother had given me when he learned that I’d suffered my first miscarriage. It’s one of those digestive, grappling words that one’s brain uses as it tries to wrap itself around something that’s just been imparted to it, but can’t quite fully comprehend. Man..... It sums up so much in the realm of disbelief.
Then, I reached over and hugged my husband because, when you hear that the life of a loved one has left and is heaven bound, you want to hold onto a loved one for dear life....hold on tight. That’s what we did. We held on tight.
My mind spiraled back to the first time I’d ever talked to Rick. It was in October of 1994, after I had become engaged to Tom. Rick congratulated us, and thanked me for giving his brother a reason to make some positive changes in his life. It had meant a lot to me. He had lovingly and graciously welcomed me into their family, and told us that he’d be there in April to happily witness our marriage. He’d be there with bells on. We all laughed at that. Given that both of Tom’s parents were deceased, we asked Rick and his then-wife, Johnnie, if they would sit in for their parents. He was touched by the request, and proudly sat in the front pew across from my parents on the day that his brother and I exchanged our wedding vows.
Later, before they returned home to Washington state, we all went to The Outback for dinner. I’ll never forget as we hugged them goodbye, Rick offering Tom his wise piece of marital advice. It was sage advice: “Don’t ever forget, Tommy, that she and the two of you are the most important things in your world!” He slapped his brother’s back, and hugged him tightly. “And, you...” He said, pulling me into an equally tight and loving hug. “Just love him! You’ve got a good guy here — one of the best!” It was a blessing — literally and figuratively. It meant the world to us both.
Now, in this moment, it is the thing I remember most gratefully about Rick — how he blessed us both so perfectly as we began our life together. It was important.
I think when someone goes to “The Next Place”, it’s the time to find the thing that you treasured most about them and hold to it. Everything else is nonessential.
Tonight, we light a candle, and we remember our brother, Frederick Joseph Perran, who like his father and mother left this world much too soon, but he lived his life the way he wanted to — exactly as he wanted to. In the end, he seemed to be at a place of peace. It’s all that any of us can ask.
For us, we now begin the process of planning Rick’s wake with his son, Justin. Then, we’ll make the pilgrimage to Florida to celebrate his life. Finally, we’ll tuck him soundly in our hearts and minds where our treasured memories are safe-housed. Better expressed in the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, “He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, it abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.”
Go rest high, Rick, and rest in peace...
*Special mention: today would have been my mother-n-law’s {Joan Claire Walsh Perran} 88th birthday. Tom and I were talking about her today, and I mentioned that I’d like to hear a song that he once told me she loved. It’s “Something” by the Beatles.
“Rick introduced her to that song,” he said, wistfully.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. I’d never heard that detail of the story before.
He nodded.
“Yeah,” he replied, thinking back. “He had the ‘Abbey Road’ album, and she heard him playing it one time. She always loved that song. It became one of her favorites.”
“Hm...” I mused, thinking about that....considering it.
As sad a day as it is for us, how happy she must be today to be celebrating HER birthday with her first born child for the first time in 32 years. Today, I play “Something” in memory of them both.
Something~George Harrison
