Printed on the back of the memorial card for my dad, who died Sept. 20.
A child of God, he was one of his men,
Was given to us to be one of our friends.
His life on Earth was a blessing to many
He loved every person, especially his family.
In every person he met, he saw the good,
Anything to help another, he always would.
“See God in every person,” he would often say.
Love and help, and remember them when you pray.
He was always active, even sick he wouldn’t be still,
But he prayed and tried to live according to God’s will.
“Leave it up to God,” he said when life was getting tough.
Words he lived by until the end, when his body had enough.
He is now with God in Heaven, looking down at us from the sky,
Reminding us of our purpose here, and telling us not to cry.
For we are all God’s children, this life here is not our end.
Hopefully one day we will join God, and Walter, our dear friend.
Memories from childhood fill my head,
Of things you taught me and stories you read.
Like shooting a basketball and swinging a bat,
And the adventures of a monkey and man with a yellow hat.
My interests changed, but one thing remained the same,
You were always there for me at every play, recital and game.
You saw every minute, and complimented me as I tried.
You calmed me when I was angry, and comforted me when I cried.
We didn’t always agree, I went through a rebellious phase,
But even then you stuck with me, whatever my latest craze.
As I grew older and married, you blessed my new life.
You welcomed into the family my beautiful wife.
Your grandkids really miss you, they wish they could say goodbye.
I came to Chicago to move you,
I didn’t think I’d watch you die.
As the cancer spreads, and you slowly fade away
Please know I’ll take care of mom, You can go now dad, it’s OK.
Robin Williams’ suicide personally affected me. Not because I knew him, or even because I’m a big fan of his work. Rather, we have a mutual enemy: depression.
Like Williams, I’ve been battling depression for much of my life. It’s a difficult condition, not only for those afflicted but also for the afflicted’s loved ones. In addition to severe sadness, it can cause extreme anger. It can be a constant feeling, or in my case get triggered by seemingly unrelated events or an innocuous statement someone says.
A friend who knew about my depression innocently asked me, “Why can’t you just be happy? When I’m sad I just stop focusing on the negative and focus on the positive.”
I wish it were that easy. However depression can consume its victims in an inescapable way. And it’s impossible for someone who hasn’t suffered from depression to truly understand — much like it’s impossible for males to truly understand the pain of birthing a baby. Yet it would be considered socially unacceptable to tell a woman in labor to just “get over it” and “focus on the happiness of a new baby!”
Another misnomer is that one can tell when someone is suffering depression. Robin Williams — considered one of the funniest men in the world — is a perfect example to counter that claim. People are often surprised when they hear about my battle with depression. I’m generally considered outgoing and relatable, have a successful track record at work, have no addictions,am financially stable, very involved with my church and community, and have a beautiful wife and three sons. By most definitions, I am living the American dream. But I still struggle with depression.
Hopefully Robin Williams’ suicide will be a wakeup call to those with depression. Several weapons are needed in one’s battle with the disease. My arsenal is filled with a very supportive family, helpful medications and consistent therapist and psychiatrist visits. I know it’s a battle that will likely be with me until my death. But I am determined to not be like Robin Williams, and let depression be the death of me.
Dear Chicago (and other northern) family and friends,
I write this letter through my love and concern for y’all, so please don’t take this the wrong way.
After spending a weekend in the city — enduring subfreezing temperatures — and leaving just before the wind chill was expected to hit -40 degrees, I wanted to let you in on a little secret: YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIVE THIS WAY. I have found land 800 miles south where “below zero” only refers to the chances of finding a snow plow at a hardware store. I live in a place called Georgia, but there are many other iterations, places called Alabama, Tennessee, North Carolina and South Carolina.
There are many cool things about the South — like they put sugar in their iced tea — but one of them isn’t the temperature. Sometimes it may dip into the 30s, but on the rare occasion it gets colder than that you don’t have to go outside because everything shuts down. And a snow flurry? If there’s even a speck of a flake, everything shuts down.
I tell you this because I’m worried for y’all. I know — and even understand — your affection for Chicago. I spent the first 23 years of my life there. Hands down, it’s the best city in the world! That’s why I visit it a few times a year, usually in the summer. But as I discovered on my most recent trip there, winter has gotten so bad there that as someone who cares for you, I’m declaring it unhealthy.
It’s just not right to walk outside and have a gust of wind slap your face so hard you start crying, only to have the tears freeze to your face and followed up with another slap of subzero Lake Michigan wind. It’s not normal for your skin to crack because you dared to venture outside. Every day, I hear tales of loved ones hurting backs, arms and legs — not to mention suffering frostbite and mini-icicles on facial hair– after plowing driveways and shoveling sidewalks. It’s wrong that you’re forced to start your car 15 minutes before even driving, that is if you can pry your door open from being frozen shut.
I’ve discovered this land where none of that happens! It’s not so far south where the only seasons are “unbearably hot summer” and “comfortably hot summer.” We have four seasons, only our winters consist of a few weeks of “somewhat cold” — heavy coat optional. And if somehow your cold air or even a flurry sneaks it way down South for a day — nothing will be expected of you! Your work will be cancelled, the police will declare the roads unsafe and you’ll be stuck at home watching 24/7 weather coverage.
I urge you to check out this land. Get on your snow boots, ski mask, leather gloves and heavy coat. Plow your driveway, wipe the icicles off your face, pry your car door open and heat it up for 30 minutes. After generously applying hand lotion and lip balm for the last time, begin making the 13-hour trek down south.
I’ll be waiting for you on my front porch, sweet tea in hand.
Joe Dennis 