Bernard J. Pech

My dad's birthday is November 4.  He died on January 8, 1999 during an Angioplasty procedure.  His headstone reads: November 4, 1936 - January 8, 1999.  He died at age 62, much too soon and much too young. 

I've been thinking about that dash.  When you see the headstone, you see the date he was born and the date he died, but you may never know about all the years in between the two. I want to share with you what that dash means to me. 

Bernie Pech was a husband, father, grandfather, son, brother, uncle, cousin, friend, military retiree (Lt Colonel) and a Tai Chi enthusiast.  

He loved eggs and SPAM and that brown bread that comes in a can. He loved popcorn, red pistachio's, Maple Walnut Ice Cream, his mother's peach jam and Ritz crackers with margarine.  He made breakfast for us every Christmas morning and he often took us to his office at the Armory when we were young. 

He loved Rush Limbaugh, Dr. Laura, Louis L'Amour books and Star Trek.  If you asked, he would go into great detail to tell you his thoughts on each of them.  And sometimes, even when you didn't ask him. 

He loved building birdhouses with his first grandson Austin and giving Bumpa beard kisses to his granddaughters Morgan and Kelsey. 

He loved taking cruises and going to balloon festivals.  Every family vacation or trip involved my father and an extremely detailed map.  He was a logistics man and that military training never left him.  

He was the kind of grandfather that wore handmade sweatshirts with his grandchildren's handprints on it. Proudly. And often.  He was the guy at the July 4th picnic with the Flag t-shirt on.  And every Christmas, he wore a Holiday sweatshirt and a Santa hat.  

He wore a "Grumpy" t-shirt.  He was pleased that people thought he was grumpy.  But the truth was that he wasn't grumpy, not really.  And once you got to know him, you understood the joke. 

He created the rough exterior to protect himself.  He craved and sought companionship but you had to get past the grumpy and gruff first.  But once you did, you were rewarded.  My father was extremely loyal to those he cared about and always did and stood for the right thing.  Even when doing so caused him great pain.  

Bernie loved to read.  I mean he LOVED to read.  HE. LOVED. TO. READ. He had a book in every room in the house.  And in his car and at work.  Wherever he was, he just picked up the book and would start reading.  I have a hard time following the plot if the author introduces too many characters at once.  But my father, he could have a book in the living room, den, car, by the bed and at the kitchen table and he could keep all the plots and characters straight.  I'm still in awe!

He loved jigsaw puzzles. He had a table set up in the small TV room and there was always a puzzle on it.  He had a very disciplined and calculated method for putting puzzles together.  He liked to be challenged but he didn't want them to be too hard - he wanted to be able to enjoy it.  I believe he was drawn to the order and sense of accomplishment that puzzles provided him.  And he was good at them.  Like, really good at them. 

He could be very impatient with most people and things, but never with my mom.  Nora is, and was, not one to be rushed.  He always had a paperback in his back pocket and would find somewhere to read while Nora dawdled and shopped.  

He loved my mom fiercely and was extremely protective of her.  When we were kids seeing them hold hands made us throw up, but as an adult, I loved that about them. 

My father died at age 62 and at a time in his life when he had just come to accept what he could change and what he could not.  That realization didn't come easy for him. Under the guidance of a great mentor and friend Dick, he was finally able to let go of his pain and anger and enjoy life. He finally found the peace and contentment that he so craved and deserved. 

I tell this memory of my dad often.  It truly is one of my fondest and dearest memories of my father: 

I believe it was the summer of 1995 and I was in Charlestown, Rhode Island with my Mom and Dad for a few days.  I had gotten up very early and it was still a little dark and cool outside.  

On the way to the bathroom I passed by the window and I saw my Dad outside. I didn't know what he was doing so I stopped to watch.  It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized that he was doing his Tai Chi exercises.  I remember being struck by how serene and fluid his movements were and I stood there watching him until he was done.  

I can still recall his movements and the feeling I had watching him. What stands out most to me is how peaceful and content he was.  That feeling has stayed with me all this time because this was not something that came easy to him and I knew how hard he fought to arrive at this point in his life.  I'm glad that he had peace that morning and for that brief time in his life.  He died much too soon but he died at peace and content. 

There is so much life contained in that dash.