Reading your story - another affirmation of The Greatest Generation.
A life well lived. Thanks for sharing.

My condolences

What a great tribute to your dad

Thanks for sharing that

Very sorry Mike. Thanks for the great tribute.

Our condolences on your loss.

Mike, sorry to hear of your loss.

most respect. He was what we should all aspire to be. Sorry for you. He was the greatest generation.

Someone just posted this on FB about their dad dying..

I know this is long but its a great perspective on death and grief

Wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.

Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from this guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too.

If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

Mike, I'm sorry for the passing of your father. It sounds like he was a great man and the world a better place for him having been here.

So sorry for your loss, Lubey. Your love and admiration for him shine through in your post. Condolences to you and your family.

My condolences to you & the family, Mike. Your dad (& mom) was/were a prime example(s) of those from the great generation - hard working fighters who loved life and those around them.

Mike, I am sorry for your loss.

Very sorry for your loss. CS Lewis, "the greater the love, the greater the grief". I truly understand, and feel for you.

Very sorry for your loss. As others have said, he lived a very full life but that doesn't mean you won't miss him and grieve his passing.

I lost my dad a couple years ago, he was 82. We were pretty close. Two months before he died, he had a stroke and I flew back to Minnesota and basically nursed him back to some measure of health for a month. I miss him but he was in very rough shape for a long time, (cancer that he "beat" but it took a big chunk of him), it was somewhat merciful when he died peacefully.

One of his best friends is 93, he is like an uncle to me. Vacationed together w his sons growing up, etc. Also a WW2 vet, really interesting guy. He and your dad are actually among the younger WW2 vets, I guess the youngest living would be about 90 right now.

It's all a part of the natural order of life but doesn't make it any less painful when it happens. My mom is 86 and I just hope she hangs on a while longer.

Condolences to you and yours.

Condolences.

Mike, sorry for your loss. Your dad was a truly devoted husband and father. Cherish those memories. If my mother were to pass, I would say, Mahalo, Aloha and A Hui Hou. Translation: Thank you, Goodbye and until we meet again.

Very moving tribute to a great family.

And so it goes indeed...Billy Pilgrim would be proud.

No matter how well we rationalize it, or how natural the process is, it is tough to lose a loved one.

I'm sorry for your loss in this sad time.

You have my condolences Mike. Take care.

May your dad RIP.

Thanks for posting this, Marc.

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Mike,
Thanks for posting the tribute to your Dad.
I'm sure you will be checking in with your son to make sure he is handling the loss as well as possible.
Best
Les