Raymond Bardan

Dad,

I still remember all the feelings from that Saturday and Sunday two years ago.  Seeing you Saturday morning, expecting my Dad but it wasn't quite you.  Rationalizing with myself that it was probaly just some strong medicine that the nurses put you on. I think we all knew the worst news we could imagine was inevitable.  Then our fears were confirmed.  You had already left us. 

I couldn't take the helplessness of sleeping in the room while you slowly slipped away... especially knowing exactly what was happening to you because the doctors made it so very clear to us.  Every time I'd start to fall asleep, I quickly remember you were there at the end of your life.  It was like all those times I woke up from a deep sleep because I had a dream that one of your died.  I'd wake up feeling a very real pain in my heart that would quickly wash away as I remembered that you were both still alive.  This was the opposite of that.  My stomach was in knots.  I left around 3:30.  I don't know how Mike and Denise stayed there.  Everything in that room reminded me of your suffering.  Every sound I wanted to open my eyes and see you sit up but I knew that wasn't possible.  I wanted the impossible.  The next morning, I got back to the hospital around 7:30am hoping I'd wake up and it had all been a dream.  After you were gone, I walked to the hospital windows and saw the aluminum facade that they were encasing the building in.  They had just started the job when you first went to the hospital, 9 short months prior.  We talked for hours about glass and aluminum.  Even back then, I knew my time was short with you.  I had heard your glass stories forever but these could be the last times... and it was... It felt like just the other day. 

I just wanted to share a couple stories where you completely surprised me. 

It was about a year or 2 after Mom passed.  We were sitting in the living room and talking about the past.  I was talking about how it was when I was a kid and I told you about how scared I was of you.  While I spoke, I could tell I caught your attention.  You normally didn't show much interest in anything.  It was just who you were.  I will never forget your reply.  "I didn't realize I was that bad."  I didn't expect that reaction.  I tried my best to explain how it didn't make you a bad guy, it was just difficult to understand as a child.  I just wish I was smart enough to understand who you were and your sense of humor.  I may have been closer to you as a kid. 

This next story was from around the same time.  I was sitting in my old bedroom with you while you played hearts on your laptop.  I looked around the room and saw my old mattress leaning against the wall.  I'd seen it hundreds of times before but today I felt inspired and ambitious.  I asked you if you wanted me to dispose of it for you.  Again, ill never forget your reply.  "I figured i'd keep it around in case you wanted to move back in one day."  This one hit me hard.  We both knew my relationship with Stephanie was difficult.  You were basically telling me there was a way out and that you wanted me to move back in with you.  I can't imagine anymore more perfect, Dad.  To nurture the father and son relationship we tediously tripped over when I was a kid.  You must have wanted to experience that bond with me as I did with you.  The bond I believe you had with the other children at one point.  We had but a glimpse of what that could have been the years we went to Coppers and AJs to shoot pool on Saturday nights, the years we went to Seekonk Speedway and drank heavily, the paintball days and the airbrushing days.

The last story was when Stephanie broke up with me.  This was about 10 years ago now.  I visited you at Grandpa's house.  I believe you were painting the garage.  I still remember what you were wearing (black and red plaid flannel shirt, suspenders and a ball cap).  I told you what happened and you didn't say much.  I told you how I was trying to figure out a way to get back with her.  This was your reply: "Come home."  Again, it sent me for a whirl.  For a second I thought about it ... it was what I always wanted.  But at that time, it didn't make sense.  You looked at me with almost a desperation.  Again, I could tell you wanted me to move back home probably so we could have that relationship you always wanted.

These moments made me realize there is more going on in that heart of yours than you rarely let on.  Your actions speak louder than your words ever could.  Those were my times to act on it to have the relationship with you I always wanted but I didn't.  I miss you Dad.  If only you could have held out a little longer, I might have finally been ready.  Maybe you got tired of waiting.  Dad, 2 years later and my heart is still broken.  Broken with Mom and now irreparable with you. 

Hello Dad.  

That was very nice of what Richie said about you.  You were an amazing dad and I/we all appreciated what you did for us.  I may have shared this story in the past but it bears repeating because the memories that we sharred while fishing was some of my best memories of my life with you.  I think i remember one of the firts times going salt water fishing with you and Dennis.  You would tell us that i will only ask you once when i go to wake you up and if you dont wake up, we wouldnt go.  I know you would try to wake us up more than once because you wanted to go fishing and wanted our company as well.  Out of the 100 or so times we went fishing, it was only hard to wake up a few times.  It was always exciting.  We would get the equipment, go to Main Bait in tiverton and before that we went to Buckos.  Then we would go to warehouser where we would walk a ggod distance to go fishing, or we would go to the middletown pier, or the break water.  There were alot of places we would go.  Dad and his green bait caster reel.  God that pole was awesome.  If it could only talk, the stories it could tell.   You would set it up, cast it out, set the drag and it would talk to you when you had a bite.  My favorite stories are, i almost had that one, did you see how much my pole bent.  It must have been this big.....  Boy did you hate catching skates.  I remember the first one where it scared the hell out of you because you thought the tail was poisonous if it hit you.  I think you cut the line to let it go as to not take any chances.  After you found out that was not the case you were less careful with them and really brgan to hate them.  We must have caught 100s from all out times fishing.   I remeber the row boat and using the 7.5 horsepower Craftman motor.  Fishing in the boat changed the way we fished.  We caught so many more fish and using the fish finder was not bad either.  I also remember fishing in the rain and you made rain coats out of black plastic trash bags.  Boy did we look silly.  We were told that fishing was good in the rain and we found out that day that, that wasnt true.  After most of the fishing adventures we would stop off and get breakfast at many different places.  I rememer Corkys diner in Portsmouth, and little Bear where you loved the hash browns.  We had so many unbelievable fun fishing times and I would not change it for the world.  I remember walking the train tracks but that is a story for another time.  Dad, i wanted to say happy birthday once again and want you to know how much i appreciated you being our dad and wish we could hang out once again.  Life was great when we were kids having you as our dad and mom as well.  Thanks for always being there when we needed you.  I also recall you saying that we as a family should be there for one another and i hope we are or at least try to be.  Love you more than you will ever know.  Mike

Hero, role model and Friend.
Most fathers are all of these and probably more to their families. But most fathers had a father and family to teach those traits to them, no matter how tough they were on them. You are unlike the majority, Dad. You became the man you were for different reasons- whether it was just out of fear, just being a good man or maybe because you feared for your soul in the next chapters to come. Well, with you it was none of those things. You didn't overly believe in God or catholocism or that there was an afterlife. You believed in ghosts and some sort of spirtual realm. You didn't fear much... moreover you struck fear into most other people. You certainly weren't afraid of being a not-so-nice person. You, as i've said before, were so unapologetically you... your whole damn life. You never asked for forgiveness or changed who you were. I couldn't say you were necessarily a good man... most the time. Not in all aspects of life at least. You tortured animals as a child (and a little when you were an adult), you were very brash to most people (family, friends and strangers alike), sometimes it was tough getting long with you as a child and basically, you weren't a people person. Sadly, I didn't know Grandpa very well but from the stories you've told, I think you were completely different than him. Although you were tough at times, you were never unfair and sometimes volatile like Grandpa was.

So what drove you to be the man you were?

You seemed to have a flair for love and romance. You loved being in love and having a wife to dote over. You loved to dance and put your love on display for all to see. You were a one-woman man. You were incredibly gifted with your problem solving skills and your ability to work with your hands solving complicated tasks with simple means. You were a renassaince man of sorts. As a role model, you continue to inspire me to try to live without fear of what people think about me or what they are going to say. You instilled in me the ability to view projects in my head and execute. I have decent problem solving skills. I have a decent grasp on working with tools and to this day, I can't believe it is me doing the work. I watched you work a handful of times and as a child, I probably barely paid attention. But when I start working, I feel confident because I am doing it the way my father did it and it gives me such a feeling of pride.

You have come to all of our rescue many times and for many reasons. I can't remember a time you weren't there to help. It didn't matter what time (2 am on a work night) or what day or where I was or what I was doing- you would drop absolutely everything to help. You'd always give me a hard time and a serious attitude but never once did you bail or fail at being a father. I can imagine that most fathers would have said tough luck. But you never did. The tough bastard you were... you never said no. All the times you said I blew you off and you'd be the first person showing up to help. Amazing. I still remember one of my first new years eve,  post my 21st birthday. I was getting ready to leave for a long night of partying and you told me that if I drank too much to give you a call. You told me not to drive and that you would come get me. Wow how that resonates. Especially being the tough person you were. It is those moments of unexpected emotion that truly defines a hero. Your personal sacrifice at my expense when there were times when I was a child where I wondered if you cared. It taught me that love isn't always what you see in movies and not something that needs to always be on display to be present. In fact, it is more powerful that way.  It is more refined and pure.  It isn't fake or flower.  It is imperfect and often found in the simplest gesture. It can heal a lifetime of pain and anguish. 

Dad, we didn't always connect.  I wish I could go back and change that but I can't.  There are nearly two decades of my life where I felt you were a stranger.  I didn't know you.  Sometimes you would ask me to help you out on something you were working on and I would whine until you lost your temper and then it probably broke you up inside and you told me to go back upstairs and play.  It must have been hard for you- it is totally clear now that you wanted to spend time with me the way you knew best.  Probably the only way you spent time with Grandpa.  You didn't want to have to ask me to spend time with you.  You wanted me to want to spend time with you.  When I refused as the years went by, you gave up trying.  It is so clear and obvious to me now.  I wish I could go back and change that.  But, like a true friend- a best friend- when I was ready to get to know you and give you a chance, you were right there waiting... like nothing bad ever came between us.  You chose to hang out with me when you had so many friends that asked you over and over time and time again.  It was like all you ever wanted to do in life is spend time with your loved ones.  Nothing else really seemed to matter.  Dad, you were truly one of my best friends.  You kept telling us about paintball.  You wanted us to go to King Richard's Faire because it would be a fun family thing to do.  You were always buying games.  You were always cooking when you were probably exhausted from a long week of hard work.  How did you do it all?  How did you give us everything and wake up the next day with more to give?
And how were you such a great man in spite of everything you lived through both emotionally and phyiscally?  Even after you got sick- it was always about us.  I miss the humble, undeniable, unbreakable, unshakeable, unquestionable, undying, unmatched and underappreciated dedication you showed to me and to this family.  I can't figure you out because I struggle to be half the man you were.  

I remember a time when I was a young teen.  You called me into the bedroom.  You were on the bed counting change.  You had been in there for hours.  I remember thinking "Great.  I hope this doesn't take long."  Probably because I was playing Nintendo.  You pulled out a pack of cards and taught me how to play Acey Deucy.  You were the dealer and had me bet with your change on the cards.  You'd draw one card.  I'd draw a card and i'd have to bet if the next card was going to be higher, lower or in between our two cards.  It was almost a sure bet I would win every time.  And I realized quickly this was your goal. You devised a fun way for you to give me your change, spend time together and teach me a fun game.  Sure enough, after like an hour, you had lost all your change to me.  You told me to keep it.  I remember it was like over $30- change you had saved up from buying coffees and snacks at work for probably a couple years.  You used to keep this change in Mom's crystal dish that was on the coffee table or sometimes behind one of the pink recliners.  I still remember this early glimpse of your sharing/selfless nature.  I think of that day so often.  I had fun and I still remember how fun it was to lay there with you.  I think about doing something like this with Caleb but I'm too selfish!  I cant figure it out, Dad.  Why were you so nice.

It should have been your 68th birthday today, Dad.  In your last couple of months, you told me "to live to 70 would be nice."  You said it simply, innocently and even in those difficult times, unselfishly.  You spoke sweetly as if you were bartering for just a little more time.  Breaks my heart to know you would rather live in pain, suffering through cancer than to not live at all.  It is sad you couldn't even your simple wish.  I hated seeing you wither away a little at a time in those delicate moments.  A 
You were always larger than life in all my memories.  A giant.  Someone who could do anything.  Seeing you fall apart when we found out Mom wasn't going to make it.  I'm still broken over it.  

Dad.  You are my hero.  My role model.  And my friend.  Happy Birthday.  No words.  No Memories.  No Photos are enough to fill any measure of the void you have left in me and my life.  Thank you for everything.

I went to Dave's Beach the other day for the first time in decades.  With Mike's help, I was able to pinpoint it as the place you and I used to go to eat our McDonald's hamburgers when I was too young and the rest of the family was at church.  I was between 4-6 years old.  I still remember the warm and moist brown and off-white wrappers on the hamburgers as I held them in my hand and the smell.  That smell has stuck with me all these years and it immediately reminds me of better days and happy family memories, all keyed in to the smell of a hamburger!!  I happened to have Taco Bell the other day and was in the neighborhood so I parked and ate like we used to do.  Driving down the path, I can recall all the trees that line the road.  I remember looking out the window of your van at those trees nearly 30 years ago.  They've grown but in 30 years, still remained very much the same as I remembered them.  I remember the large billboard that is located near the beach - the one you can see from 195.  I also remember the large high tension wires structure - that stood out to me the most because as a child, I was always intrigued by the immensity of it- a fearful respect for something so ominous and to a 4 year old, scarey.  Even the parking lot of the beach/South Wattupa Boat Ramp looked familiar.  I remember driving along with you, usually right up to the sand where we would either sit in the van and eat but more often, we'd get out and walk to the water.  I just wish I remembered what, if anything was said.  I like to imagine that you told me stories and shared your memories with me as a young 38-40 year old man.  But more than likely, there probably wasn't much said and we listened to B101 on the radio as you smoked cigarettes.  I wonder what you were thinking back then.  What your dreams were.  What your goals were.  How often did you think about Mom and wonder how and if you were going to work it all out?  Did you think you were healthy or have any idea that in a few short years, you were going to have a heart attack?  Was it even a thought in your mind that you may die in a short 25-30 years?  Did you feel as indestructable as I envisioned you all my life?  What was it like to have such a large family?  What drove you to sacrifice so much of your time and yourself to provide for us both financially and fatherly?  Were you happy?

I feel like a fool for having as much time with you as I did and never asked you these questions.  I never wanted to make you feel awkward and felt like those kinds of questions are not appropriate for a son to ask.

But now that I am nearly at your age in this memory, you are more a mystery to me than you were when I was a kid. 
You were so young back then but ancient to me as a child.  I remember so many stages of you.  I remember the young, tough guy as a child.  The VFW years where you seemed to always be gone and would come home late and Mom being angry at you and you guys arguing a lot.  Plenty of memories of you coming home drunk wanting to talk about glass and aluminum...sometimes about Mom.  You were so proud of your job and loved doing what you did and wanted us to be as proud of you... but we probably didn't reciprocate as good as we could have.  The tired, angry sometimes goofy father when you came home from work.  I remember the baseball years - they seemed like an entire lifetime because those years went on for what seemed like forever.  I remember the Scout years and camping years.  I remember the years you were building anything and everything (tables, bedroom sets, remodeling the entire first floor of the apartment) and fixing things that seemed unfixable (broken wires, etc).  This was also the model rocket years where you set everything aside to build rockets with me.  We'd get up early on cold weekends to fire them off.  You seemed to take a lot of pride in them.  I remember the boating and fishing years where it seemed like we were always in some bait shop or on some shore fishing, just father and his sons and I was complaining I wanted to come home.  I remember the family years where we'd take (probably very unsafe) trips on your 10' aluminum boat to the little beach you discovered on the other side of Sawdy Pond and you taking us on vacation to New Hampshire in the van.  We visited Grandpa quite a bit back in those days.  We went to Crowthers restaurant all the time.  I remember always being in that van- the whole family.  I remember the grumpy, quiet years where you seemed like you had given up.  I remember the King Richard's Faire years where we went quite a few years in row.    I remember the wedding years and grandpa years.  I remember the paintball years where we earned our first trophy together as Team Fathersons!!  I remember the Foxwoods and MGM Grand Hotel years when you used to commute to work 2-3 hours each way, getting up at 3am in the morning and coming home after 7pm and contemplating getting a hotel room to work up closer to the work site so you didn't have to drive so much.  I remember the Groton, CT and Hartford, CT years of more driving so much just to work to support us.  You totalled your first pickup truck into a stop light pole and the stop light fell on your truck when you were working these crazy hours.  It was someone else's fault!!  I remember the Bristol County Glass years (Assonet, MA) and being happy that you didn't work so far from home anymore.  I remember the Coppers and AJ's Bar years and shooting pool and trying to hustle the hustlers and drinking so much with you and coming home very sick and Mom yelling at us for being out so late and being so drunk.  I remember the Seekonk Speedway years also known as the Consumer Glass years (we hung out at turn 4 drinking beers with Doug, all your co workers and sometimes Cheryl).  I remember the years after Grandpa passed away and all the work you did on his property.  So many hours of your life invested... and away from Mom.  I remember all the times Mom would yell at you when you would come home with Cheryl drunk, Cheryl was sick but you would bring her out again the next time anyway.  I remember the really tough years after Mom passed away.  I remember my hockey years where it seemed like you were at the rink watching my hockey team more than I played.  I remember my band years when you were there at most of my local shows to support me.  I remember the Open Mic Night years at Rick's Music World.  ...and I remember the even tougher years when you got sick.  I remember the hope you clung to when we decided it was just a fungal infection- for the first time in months, you weren't depressed.  I remember that pretentious dick head, Dr. Richard Miller scoffing at our thoughts that it was just an infection, destroying all the hope we mustered up without a care of how much we were clinging to the one last chance we had left.  I remember watching the man responsible for all the memories above struggle with something he couldn't fix for the first time in his life.  :(

Hi Dad.  I had another dream about you last night.  The events are a little fuzzy but I was walking the trail you cleared to Sawdy Pond at Grandpa's house.  Along the way, you were telling me stories from your childhood.  I can't remember if you were there alongside me or not but I remember hearing your voice.  I recorded your stories so I could hear you whenever I wanted.  I think at some point during my dream we were also scuba diving together.  Mike ended up taking your Scuba Gear and my recordings on a cruise with him and the cleaning lady must have thrown them away.  When Mike came back home from his cruise, he told me what happened and I extremely mad at him.  The dream got a little random at that point but the anger was real :).  Miss you Dad.