That Monday morning six years ago started off as what would appear to be a relaxed atmosphere at work to begin the week. I had just completed a huge project the previous week that took it's toll on myself and my family. Co-workers pleasantly greeted me that morning and there was a sense of relief in the air. By mid-morning I was beginning to clean off my desk and reorganize much overdue files, something I seldom found time or ambition to actually do. It was as if I was subconsciously preparing to leave for awhile. Now, my desk wasn't just picked up a little. I threw paperwork away, tossed old computer magazines that had been piling up, and scrubbed my table top down, leaving little surface dust at all. I was in a happy and relaxed mood. Strange what a relaxed atmosphere will bring out in one. Little did I realize that mood would drastically change.

By late morning I was preparing to leave for an early lunch when I got the call. I'll never forget the words on the other end: "Dennis, this is the call I didn't want to have to make..." The tone of Joe's voice already revealed what words were to come next. With his voice quivering, Joe started to tell me... but I burst out crying instantly before he could even finish breaking the news to me. Time seemed to stand still that very moment when I learned that Dad had died this morning. We only talked a few minutes as I was trembling, almost uncontrollably. So much for my work composure, I guess.

I dropped everything immediately and took off for home. The drive alone seemed melancholy, and I remember balling out loud the entire drive home. When I walked in the door to my house, I was greeted by Judy at the top of the stairs; kids playing cheerfully on the living room floor like not a worry in the world. I didn't have to say anything. My eyes and voice revealed the explanation for an early arrival home. Judy hugged me so tight and very long, removing all attention on the little children for a minute. She was very comforting and I was calmed by her arms.

When I settled down I immediately made plans for the next possible flight to Texas from St. Cloud airport. I arranged to fly out in the late afternoon after Josh would come home from school. I packed my belongings and ate a small lunch before school was let out. On our way to the airport, we stopped at Greyhound to purchase tickets for the late evening departure that Judy and the three kids would make to Texas for the funeral. Taking care of my own family and making sure they would be handled alright became a priority before I'd leave.

What would've been a normal week of routine turned into a long chaotic nightmare of experiences. A mother travelling south for 32 hours with three small children under her care would almost certainly be nerve-wracking and scary. The flight to Texas that late afternoon seemed surreal with all the laughter and conversations I witnessed with other passengers. If they could only feel the sadness I endured in their presence, perhaps they wouldn't be laughing and smiling so much as to feel my pain too. It appeared to be a long stretched out flight as I tried to relax and sleep.

When I finally arrived at Mom and Dad's that evening, there was such an emotion-filled house with a terrible sense of emptiness. The reality of Dad not with us there set in immediately. In my mind I was brought back to that fateful Sunday afternoon two weeks earlier to say my last goodbye to Dad with 4-year-old Savannah. Dad was laying in his bed and grasped my hand as tight as he could while I cried and wished him the best. He wanted to give Savannah a big hug but his reaching out to her was very weak, and I picked her up for him to embrace. I cried even more watching Dad comfort his granddaughter for the last time. Little did she understand. I'll never forget his words as I was about to leave the room, and we were ready to make our trip back home to Minnesota with Jeff and Uncle Arnie. Raising his right hand slowly, he graciously accepted his own fate and told me in a quiet voice with a smile: "Peace be with you and yours, Dennis." I was driven to even more tears as I wished him the same and all the love. Now, revisiting his empty-filled bedroom a couple weeks later, there's a sense of peace and relief as Dad was no longer in the pain and suffering he so much endured his last days of his life.

The week had only begun, but there were emotions of a lifetime to come the days before, during and following the funeral. We can all identify with these feelings. It was an experience that would slow time down considerably for a few days so we could reconnect with our own inner feelings. I'd be curious of what others in the family remember about the moment you heard the inevitable news six years ago to the day tomorrow.

That was so very well written, Dennis, so touching and filled with such tenderness. It had me tearing up all over again. :(

For me it was different, as Mom and I were at Dad's side, holding his hand, as he slipped from life to death, with a realization how tenuous life is and how subtle the difference is from life to death. It's a memory I'll always keep. Just holding his hand as he took his last breath and then waiting for what seemed like ages for his heart to stop beating... and then it was over. :( The bedroom was just silent for a time, stillness. And then everything changed, our father was gone, 11:18am.

I remember how drained I was earlier that morning, between 3 and 5am, and Dad was in a frantic state. Never have I seen a person in so much pain before, I prayed his agony would be over soon. It was so unbearable for him, such physical suffering. :( Mom and I would keep holding his hands, trying everything to help ease his suffering, nothing would help. Each time one of us would get up to get something for him to try to alleviate some of his pain, he'd mouth a scream (he could no longer even whisper) of "Joe, Joe, Joe" or "Ma, Ma, Ma", he wouldn't want us to even get up! It was so hard for him. :( Mom stayed in the bedroom that morning as I finally left to lie down on the chair to try to get a little sleep. Dad was still in a frenzy, silent screams of agony, his arms grabbing at the air, he wouldn't stop crying out. It was awful, so sad to see him in that state. I so wanted his suffering to end soon. I think it was about 5:30am when I got up to use the bathroom and I looked in on Dad through the bathroom door, and I knew he was no longer with us. :( It was clear his spirit had already left, there was no longer life behind his glassy eyes. He continued to flail his arms wildly and continued vocalizing soundlessly, unendingly, but he was already somewhere else. I went back to sleep praying his body would stop soon.

And then I woke up a few hours later and everything seemed surreal. A new atmosphere, a sense that Dad's pain was gone now. There was classical music playing in the background, Dad's favorite music, and Mom was baking something that smelled so good. It's like we both knew, today is different, and Dad isn't suffering anymore. The atmosphere was surreal. We kept looking in on Dad, his breathing was extremely rapid, but lifeless. We kept phoning Donna, the nurse, to hurry up and get there, because it wasn't going to be long now. Then when the nurse arrived, she looked at Dad, and the first thing she did was call her assistant to have her come immediately, she would need to help take care of Dad's body. :( While we waited for her to arrive, Herman came over and the four of us just sat in the bedroom with Dad... just waiting with him, holding his hand. Mom broke the silence and asked Donna if Dad was going into coma now and Donna replied with just a simple, "No, he's dying". And that just so overwhelmed me and hit me hard... and we continued to wait with Dad. Finally his rapid breathing quickly became shallow and then more shallow, and then none at all as he exhaled his last. Now it seemed an eternity watching his heart continuing to beat through his chest, just holding his hand, waiting with him. And then it stopped and he turned his head to the left, everything was still. I took Mom out into the living room, it was so terribly sad, while Herman closed Dad's eyes with his fingertips. I felt Dad's presence in that moment, as if he was watching us from afar watching over him.

I so miss you, Dad, you're always in my thoughts.

Thanks, Joe and Dennis, for putting together such stirring memories of that sad but yet calming September 23rd day. I can't begin to describe my memories and feelings as well as you have. I will admit, after reading your email tribute Joe, that I would have had an extremely difficult time dealing with Dad's final hours as I was so torn up just reading your email.

Dad is greatly missed and I think about him so often. I find myself talking about him to co-workers and friends in some way, usually telling of the great lessons that I learned growing up. I know that Dad is in a far better place, in no pain, watching over his family and I take comfort in that everyday.

I got a chance to use the experience of Dad's passing and the years since to give a co-worker some comfort this past week. She told me several week's ago that her father has cancer and I received a call from her on Wednesday telling me that she was told that he may not make it through the night. I was able to comfort her describing many of the feelings that we all share. She thanked me and expressed how I have helped her to get her feelings out and to understand what her father is going through. On Saturday he passed away and I know eventually she will feel the same peace that we feel 6 years later.

I miss you Dad and I love you, thanks for being there for me. Take care all.

Hi all, After so many fun emails all week it was very difficult reading these. I had been aware all month that this was the year where the 23rd fell on Monday and have said many prayers leading up to this day. I really feel for you Joe for having to endure the final moments of Dad's struggle. I think often about his 69 years of life and certainly after weighing out the differences between his passing months and the many great years he had with his family, friends, fellow soldiers, Mom, all of us and especially his grandchildren that had an opportunity to enjoy his warm company, the months that he suffered seem to be alot easier to accept since I am now easily able to feel his presence from day to day, especially during the toughest moments of any given day. He was a master at his craft and I truly believe that right now he is fulfilling his purpose.

Personally for me, that Monday morning of September 23rd was very tough. For most of you, with it being later in the morning, you were already up and somewhat going through your daily routine. Jeff called me and woke me up and broke the news and I guess since I was just waking up it didn't really hit home until setting the receiver down. I was all alone and in the apartment and nobody, nobody but God could hear my cries.

It was only the following summer that I met Kim and John and I really think that Dad was guiding me in the right direction now as my life finally turned around from what it was previously. Honestly feeling that this is true has kept me not only devoted to my brothers and sisters but also to Kim and John. I only wish that they could have known the dad that gave me so much inspiration and knowledge in my life. As I'm sure everyone else will, this Monday morning I will say an extra prayer for you Dad and remind you of how much I truly love you.

May you rest well, Dad until I see you again.

For me the two weeks prior to Dad's death were a living hell. My work suffered, my mind constantly drifted to the good times when Dad would sit for hours either talking, telling stories of the war or of his pappy. Sometimes he just sat there in the chair, rocking, not saying a word, neither of us but we were communicating. Before Dennis, Savannah, Arnie and I drove down for the weekend visit, Mangkone and I talked for what seemed like hours. She was in denial. Telling me that he wasn't dying. I know that she knew that he was but she knew how much I treasured Mom and Dad visiting us yearly. I never wanted the times to end. When we arrived in Lockhart just two weeks before he died it was like time was going in slow motion. He greeted Arnie, Savannah and Dennis but to me it seemed like he didn't even realize I was there. Finally late that night I sat with him alone in the bedroom holding his hand. I must have said a million Hail Marys and Our Fathers. He held my hand. I knew that I would not see him alive again. It was emotional. I stood out on the back patio smoking my pipe almost in awe. On Sunday as we said goodbye I cried so hard holding his hand again. My stomach was in knots. I was shaking. It was time to look in the room one last time. It hurt. I ran out the back door crying. Dave followed and we cried together. I asked him to please be the one to call when the time came.

Sunday the 22nd, almost coincidentally, there was an article in the paper on bereavement flights and how to buy and use them.

On Monday the 23rd after drinking my morning boost I walked out to the mail box to send Mom and Dad's anniversary card. I knew that he would be gone soon but I guess there was still hope. Just as I walked in the front door the phone rang. I saw Margie's name on the caller ID. As she began talking I just broke down crying. She said that he passed away around 11:15 that morning. I told her that I would call Sharon and Mike and that we would be in touch later that mid day. After contacting Sharon and Mike I called the airlines and made reservations for Mike, Mangkone and I. Called Margie back to tell her what flight we would be on. I called my boss and told him I would be gone until the following Monday. He gave his regards and sympathies. Like Dennis said, people on the flight appeared so happy and unconnected to us. I don't remember talking much even to Mangkone. I guess I was connecting more with Dad's spirit. There was a somber feeling in Dale and Dave's eyes when they picked us up at the airport. My stomach was again in knots. We went to the funeral home later that day and just seeing Dad resting in the coffin, lifeless but so peaceful was comforting.

Dad and I had a saying the last years of his life. Each time either I visited Mom and Dad or vice versa he would say to me now next time we are going fishing. Even though neither of us fished.

Rest in peace Dad. I know you are.

What I remember is that I was at college during the morning that we lost Dad. I was home for the day (morning classes only) and just finished fixing myself some lunch and enough for Nick, as he soon would be getting off the kindergarten bus. Joe called me to give me the awful sad news. The tone in Joe's voice relayed his message very clearly as he started to tremble and relay "Janet, we lost Dad" and then he continued to let me know what time Dad died and who was present. When I hung up the phone, I sat in my recliner not even making one single move. I was like in a daze and then suddenly after a few minutes I blurted out crying, and by the time Nick walked in from the school bus he came up to me and asked, "Mama, what's wrong. What's wrong Mama?" and I just looked at him and then reached out to grab him to hold him. When I explained that uncle Joe had just called a few minutes ago and said that Grandpa had died. Nick spoke so gentle "Hu ah Mama, hu ah, he's not dead." I replied, "Yes, he died this morning Nick. Grandpa died." and then Nick said so reassuring and so softly, "Mommy, Grandpa's not dead... he's alive now in heaven." I immediately burst out bawling again. It was very tough for me. Such a young child felt so positive and accepted the loss we all were experiencing. It was so hard to accept for me (and I know it was for all of us Voigts). Dad was such a major role player in our lives, such a warm and loving person, and so wise. He was truly an inspiration in our lives... and he still is!

I remember that during Dad's illness I did not have good transportation to drive up from the Valley to Lockhart (I was going to college on a PELL grant and not working and couldn't afford anything). The most recent time I was able to go to Lockhart (before Dad passed away) was Labor Day weekend the beginning of that September. (I was finally able to "convince" Danny to drive my kids and me up to Lockhart). At that time Dad was in a lot of pain but still very alert and was able to walk around, but I remember that he did sleep a lot and sometimes he would stare at us or into mid air (we sometimes thought he was staring at us on the couch, but then Donna said that "All his medication makes him very drowsy and sometimes stare like that". I remember also that before we took off back to Harlingen Dad stood up and reached out his arms and hugged me and told us "Come back soon. I love you all." That was the last time I saw Dad before he died.

The very next time I had the chance to see our dad was not when he was alive... his body lied peacefully and painlessly at the funeral home. I remember how we all knelt there before him and weeped, all of us mostly in silence. When the kneeler was empty and I finally had a chance to go with Nick up to the kneeler, Nick wanted to touch Dad. I said he could go ahead and he said, "Grandpa feels funny Mom." I don't believe Nick really truly understood that Grandpa died and we would not get to spend time with him anymore (Nick had just turned 5 that summer). I then reached over to feel Dad too, and he felt so smooth, filmy, like soft warm wax. When I left the kneeler I headed directly up to Frank and Bob sitting not too far from the kneeler. I burst out crying and they hugged me, and I cried to them "We lost the BEST man in the world!!!" and they both agreed and we all cried together. Then just before Dad's casket was to be carried by his sons from the funeral home to the church, the organist from the church came up to me and asked me to rehearse singing the song "How Great Thou Art" as I was going to sing that at his funeral. (That song was Dad's favorite church hymnal which he noted to me when I was 14 years old and putting on records after lunch one Sunday afternoon. As I was searching the big stack of old records there on that gray wooden desk in the den, Dad glanced my way from his recliner in the living room and noticed I was looking for some music to play. He said, "Janet, could you find "How Great Thou Art? That is my favorite church song." and I remembered that from there on. So that is what I chose to sing at Dad's funeral.) I felt so sad tho that, due to having to go to the church to rehearse the song,I was not able to see the closing of Dad's casket. After I practiced the song, I headed back to the funeral home, and sure enough my brothers were already carrying the casket to the church.

I remember that the organist warned me ahead of time that I may not be able to sing all 4 verses (I wanted to so badly tho cuz this was especially a day that called for the song). I told her I would try, and she assured me that if I feel I cant go on then don't be afraid to leave the alter. During the funeral I was sitting with Nick and Danny in the section of pews on the right-hand side I think in front or behind of Mary Ann, Sharon and Jeremy, and some of the other family members. When I was motioned by the organist to come up to the alter to proceed with the song, I hesitated, but then went ahead... for that was my goal to sing the song that Dad so much loved to hear on that one record he asked me to play years ago. Well, I made it thru the first 2 verses, and then by the 2nd chorus... I left the podium, and wiping my tears, I made it quietly and quickly to the pews... but this time I headed for the pews on the left side, as that was the side of the alter that the organ and podium was on. I sat behind Frank and Mary Ann, then Frank turned around and said, "Job well done, Janet." and I replied, "I did that for my Dad." and I burst out crying quietly. Now it is every single time when I sing that song on my karaoke... I again burst out crying

"I miss you so much Dad. You always were, still are, and always will be an inspiration in my life! May you rest in peace Dad!"

Hi All. This was such an emotional day for me, just thinking about Dad. It brought back memories of the night before, how Joe and I were standing by his bed, holding his hand and watching him suffer. He was trying to tell us something but the words wouldn't come. It was so sad to see him like that, I know you all were thinking about him today also, after reading all your e-mails. He was a great Dad, he shouldn't have had to suffer like he did.

He is now resting in peace. I have a Mass said for him this coming Sunday. It would have been our 48th this Sunday. Dave is coming over this Saturday and he will go with me to church on Sunday.

Take care, I love you all,

Dennis, very well written! You sure have a way of really expressing your feelings from that very emotional time. I got very emotional reading through it. What a very somber day that was. You know, I have driven that road to Mom and Dad's many times but that was the longest drive there, but in reality the drive was really a blur as my head was filled with so many thoughts. That was tough!!

Dad sure is missed everyday. You know, you guys that have kids can certainly relate, I find myself constantly telling Zman about Dad and how great he was and all. That is what still really hurts the most, Zachary not being able to "grow up" with him. He would have had so much fun with Grandpa.

This upcoming month will also be tough as I'm sure it was for Gary. I would sure loved to have Dad at our wedding! That would have been great!

How fast these last six years have gone, but like all of us have said... he is ALWAYS in our thoughts and is talked about in many conversations between all of us!!! He is missed a bunch but... is always looking over us and is in a much better place.

We all love you so much Dad!!!

Jeff, just read your message. I am here at the library again today reading my emails. My home computer is too slow. Anyway I am being touched all over again by the memories. It is very emotional. It must have really been hard for you, and Dennis too, knowing THAT day was the very last time you see Dad alive. I can't even imagine. For me, I should have treated each day as if it were the last time I see Dad alive. But I don't think consciously I ever did.

The last night I left Dad alive, I went to go to work. I knew I would be coming back first thing in the morning. I left knowing Joe and Mom would be with him all night. I remember holding his hand, squeezing tightly, and telling him I would be back in the morning to see him. He squeezed my hand and nodded and our eyes met, and I could just feel all the pain and suffering, and I remember hating to leave, but knowing I would be off for 4 days after that, so I figured I would get this last day of work in, without having to call in sick. Looking back, I wish I would have just called in, but maybe I truly wasn't supposed to be there for the end. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to handle it so well. I think I may have been in denial that this could be his last night. If only I would have known, I would have stayed, no matter what. So for you to know the last day you are to see Dad alive must have really been hard...

I totally agree with you, Dale. Yesterday was so emotional for me, reading these emails, and then driving home from the library, where I went to read email, tears were running down my face, and I was hoping and praying that Dad can still see how beautiful his grandchildren are and how well brought up they are. That is the hardest thing about not having him around, the kids are missing out on sharing in his life. I am convinced he is with us in spirit and is certainly guiding these beautiful grandchildren of his. They will never lose out completely if we continue to keep his memory alive. I have beautiful memories of him with Emily and Trevor. Katy is the one who was so young, only two. As with Zach, who was only 1 1/2.

Thank you Dad, for helping us to raise beautiful children as you yourself and Mom have done!!

We will miss you forever...

Very touching Jeff.

My account of those days are somewhat blurred because of the emotions of our loss. I believe that I was not there during his final moments because I could not have handled it. I was supposed to be there with Joe & Mom that night, and I was there until probably about midnight. But with all of the emotions running high during those final days, I chose selfish reasons to leave, rather than thinking about the needs of Mom, Dad & Joe in those final moments. There were times when I regretted that choice to leave, but after reading Joe's accounts, I don't think I would ever have gotten over watching him literally take his last breaths. Maybe in a way Dad was watching over me & protecting me emotionally. I believe that he felt my anxiety that night. When Joe & I attempted to give him his medicine that night he choked so badly and I was so scared & upset. At Dad's bedside I commented to Joe that we need to call Hospice for support. I really felt that Dad heard me. Ironically, his last breaths were taken when the Hospice nurse had arrived the following morning.

On Monday morning I received the phone call from Mom. Terry was in the garage and had heard the garage phone, so when I hung up & went outside he knew immediately what had just happened & I was thankful that he was there with me. I cried all the way to Lockhart. As I drove up to the house I saw Dale & Gloria outside. I just fell into Dale's arms sobbing! This was indeed the hardest day of my life. I met Mom, Donna & Joe inside the house and we all comforted each other. That was an extremely somber afternoon in that quiet house. Dad's music played in the background. I noticed that Mom tried to do things in the kitchen occasionally, almost as if she still needed to prepare things for Dad. Later that afternoon I think we were told we could view the body (I think Mom got a call from the funeral home). From that point on, nothing is clear in my mind. Through all of the tears & emotions, I think I was just there in body - it's almost as if I was elsewhere in my mind. I remember seeing Jeremy so upset at the funeral home. It was unbearable to watch him breaking down!! God, I felt his pain!! It reminded me of when I was a small child & learned that my Grandpa had died. I couldn't imagine that he would no longer be around. He was my sponsor & often came over after Xmas. It's a hard thing for a child to lose a beloved grandparent. I only wish many of our kids could have grown much older to really know their GRAND grandpa! God bless all of us as we continue to remember Dad, and may we always be there for Mom, for she is SO precious to all of us!!

God bless all.

Even though there was time to acknowledge Dad's forthcoming death and get myself somewhat prepared mentally for what I was about to experience in my life, as well as my kids' life, time could never have prepared me for exactly how I felt the morning I got the dreadful call at work. There was some unusual feeling within me that morning as I got ready for work, part of it was the expectation that I knew that the phone call could very well come that day, but I guess I really hadn't prepared myself for it to come at work. Wow, when that call came it was harder than I had thought.

I remember when I was leaving Texas for the last time before Dad's death, I left KNOWING that my last words with Dad (which were probably the most touching words he and I had ever exchanged) would be my very last words, and so I thought that I would handle his passing better than I did. But I guess that finality of his life could never be totally prepared for mentally.

When the phone rang that morning at work I answered it as I normally would, as if it would be a client, but when I heard Joe's voice on the other line, before he even said a word, I knew, and it immediately felt like my whole insides were twisting. It was definite, I would never see, hear, or touch my dad alive again. My boss was already behind me and comforting me as I spoke with Joe and wept. She obviously told me to go home and take care of what needs to be done to prepare for the trip south. Before leaving the building I took a long walk through the halls of the hospital where I worked and it was as if I didn't see anyone passing by me, it was like time had stopped for me. I now had to go tell the kids.

The kids took the news quite well, and I can thank Dad for that. The reason being that when Dad had first learned that he was terminally ill and first informed me of that on the phone a couple months earlier, I was so shook up and my kids were seeing me cry and hearing my conversation with Dad, and they kept asking me what was wrong as they also began to cry. I remember telling Dad that I didn't know what or how to tell the kids, and he then so calmly spoke with my kids on the phone, one by one. Though I may never know exactly what he said to each one, I do know that one by one, they also calmed down and stopped crying. I believe that what calmed my young children down that day was most likely his 'spirited' words that I am sure all of us were able to experience with him through those long two months of his illness. The words, the feelings, and the emotions he shared with me are an experience that to this day keep me in touch with what life is really about. Although it was very difficult to lose Dad, each and every day I feel a closeness to him that could never have been felt before, for now he is no longer a phone call away, he is always present in my life in so many miraculous ways.

I love you Dad.

Webmaster: Joseph Voigt | visits since 9/22/2002 | Updated: 4/27/2006 5:12 pm