David Kieschnick, Sept. 14, 1952 to Feb. 14, 2015
A Remembrance of My
Son
The writer of Ecclesiastes had it right: “For everything
there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven.”
A time to be born.
It was a great time for David, our first, to be born. His was a much longed for
arrival. While he was being delivered around 3:00 a.m. I was sound asleep in
the waiting room. People chided me for my seeming lack of concern. But I reply
that his Mother Jane and even David never were dependent on me. From his birth
Dave was strong, self-reliant, capable, showing up on time. “Dad, I can handle
it.”
A time to die.
It’s hard to admit that 62 years of age is a time to die. For David it was. In
a long personal conversation with me right after his oncologist told him, “Six
months” Dave said, “Dad, I’m ready. I trust my God. I have no spouse or
children dependent on me. I’ve accomplished my significant goals. I’ve made a
difference. I’ve had a good life. “It’s a time to die.”
As that horrific cancer ate up first his jaw, then his
cheeks and the descended into his throat and ascended into his brain sending
excruciating pain along every cell along the way, the time came for hospice at
home, massive pain killing drugs, always unbelievable support from his sibs and
then final prayers and tearful goodbyes. It was a time to die.
A time to mourn and a
time to dance. Of course, we mourn (with hope). Already I have moments of “Oh, I must talk to David about
this.” Or “I’ve got to call Dave to see if he has time for us to have a beer
together”. So I mourn.
And I recall the time to dance. David knew how to dance and
have fun. His parties (especially hat parties – he kept 39 of those hats right
inside his door), his love of food, his travels to the rivers of Europe with
his sister, his singing, attending the theater for music and drama, his pottery
and those who joined him there. Yes, David knew there was a time to dance.
A time to keep silent
and a time to speak. Sometimes it was tough for David to keep silent, when
honest disclosure would have brought more pain to him that he could bear.
But he also knew there was a time to speak. So he spoke for
those outside the “norm”, the poor, the disenfranchised, the refugee, the alienated.
A time for war – and
a time for peace. Yes, David fought his wars, for the cause of persons of
all sexual orientation, for those who had trouble finding God in the “organized
church”, against incompetence at work. And he fought his cancer with vegan and
non-lactose diets, with chemo and radiation, with acupuncture and hyperbaric,
with enhanced food supplements, with cancer support groups and writing seminars
– and above all a desire to live and to make a difference.
And in the end, a time for peace. A time to rest from his
wars, his pain, his weakened body and a time for peace with himself, with his
family, with his God, with eternity.
“For everything there is a season and a time for every
matter under heaven”.
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