Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago
To the best of my knowledge he was my only namesake. My family of origin didn't talk about things so I never asked my sister how she came to give her oldest son my name, Allan, same spelling. Lucille died about twenty years ago and was preceded in death by her husband so there is no one to ask. She was six years older than I and Allan was born when I was seventeen.
Yesterday Allan died of a presumed heart attack. His whole life was lived in Milwaukee with the exception of one year that he lived with Joanne and me in North Dakota. When he came to us he'd flunked 7th grade twice. Joanne went to the school principal in North Dakota with the intention of enrolling him in 8th grade. Up against Joanne the principal's resistance was futile and so he began as an eighth grader. I don't know what Joanne said to the principal but she had a plan. She tutored him and he passed 8th. After flunking 7th twice he thought he was stupid but the real issue was truancy...it's hard to pass when you don't go to school. With Joanne's help he left us knowing he was smart and he recently retired after 20+ years as an NBC cameraman for a Milwaukee station.
News of his death put me again in that place where I'm in deep grief and am taken aback that those I meet on the sidewalk have no clue of my loss. Shouldn't the whole world grieve like I am? Why don't they recognize my place in the land of grief?
Allan and his wife, Kirsten, happened to be in The Cities the weekend Joanne went into hospice. They, Joanne and Allan, had a very tender visit. Joanne chose nieces and nephews as her pall bearers. Allan was one of them, though the funeral was on Saturday and he was scheduled for open heart surgery on Monday. After the funeral when I learned of his scheduled surgery he said "I faked it, I didn't really lift."
Yes, grief touches grief. Allan living with us was something we shared...those memories are ours and she's not here.
Takk for alt,
Al
Yesterday Allan died of a presumed heart attack. His whole life was lived in Milwaukee with the exception of one year that he lived with Joanne and me in North Dakota. When he came to us he'd flunked 7th grade twice. Joanne went to the school principal in North Dakota with the intention of enrolling him in 8th grade. Up against Joanne the principal's resistance was futile and so he began as an eighth grader. I don't know what Joanne said to the principal but she had a plan. She tutored him and he passed 8th. After flunking 7th twice he thought he was stupid but the real issue was truancy...it's hard to pass when you don't go to school. With Joanne's help he left us knowing he was smart and he recently retired after 20+ years as an NBC cameraman for a Milwaukee station.
News of his death put me again in that place where I'm in deep grief and am taken aback that those I meet on the sidewalk have no clue of my loss. Shouldn't the whole world grieve like I am? Why don't they recognize my place in the land of grief?
Allan and his wife, Kirsten, happened to be in The Cities the weekend Joanne went into hospice. They, Joanne and Allan, had a very tender visit. Joanne chose nieces and nephews as her pall bearers. Allan was one of them, though the funeral was on Saturday and he was scheduled for open heart surgery on Monday. After the funeral when I learned of his scheduled surgery he said "I faked it, I didn't really lift."
Yes, grief touches grief. Allan living with us was something we shared...those memories are ours and she's not here.
Takk for alt,
Al
No comments:
Post a Comment