He had a remarkable life. As a child he was in the Budapest ghetto during WWII. He escaped to the west during the 1956 Hungarian revolution and met my mother in a refugee camp in Austria. They moved to Pennsylvania where I was born. He worked as a chemical engineer for a while, then we moved to Montreal when he took over management of my uncle’s lumberyard. After five years we moved to Los Angeles, where he lived for almost 50 years. In LA he owned several small businesses, then eventually went back to engineering. He was one of the engineers on the construction of LA’s rail transit system.
He retired almost 30 years ago. For the first 20 years he remained active, traveling around the world, participating in local events, etc. Then his health started to catch up with him. For the last year he was practically bedridden.
He got to live to see his granddaughter get married, and the birth of his great grandson.
I’m sorry for your loss. He sounds like an interesting man. May he rest in peace. Take care of yourself. Grief can sneak up on you and in lots of many ways.
I’m very sorry for your loss. As Aspenglow said, however long the life was, it’s still not easy to let them go. Grieve how you need to; different people need to grieve differently.
And that’s now my life goal. To meet my great-grandchild, assuming I ever have one. I’m 71 now, but hoping to reach 94. My father lived to be 91.
If you had asked your father what his secret was to a long life, what would he have told you? It’s not solely because of his Hungarian genes, although that certainly helped.
Looks to me like he improved his lot in life, had a positive impact on those around him, had a long and lively retirement, and is missed. We should all have as much.
My father died last month at 94. My mom is 89. His obituary was the first I’ve ever written. He was a refugee from Poland. Earned a PhD and made a good life here.
Funny how similar our stories are. My condolences.