Soldiering On

 

It happened in Milwaukee on October 29, 2022.  It seems all bad things with regard to volleyball and Lainey and Wright State happen in Milwaukee.  The text I sent to an alumni mom before I walked in the gym to watch the match, said "Walking it to fricken Milwaukee.  I will not miss this place."  And the mom understood and knew exactly what I was talking about, having survived 4 years of Milwaukee trips with me as our daughters played together.  

Over two weeks ago, surgery, crutches, a scooter, Senior Weekend, celebrations, regular season conference champions, last road trip ever, undefeated conference record, hosting the tournament, and riding the longest winning streak in the NCAA's this season.  All of that has happened in two weeks. Two weeks since her Achilles broke, she crumpled to the gym floor and, for the first time in her career, she couldn't get up, she couldn't tape it up and get back out there, she couldn't do rehab and miss a few games.  Two weeks since her volleyball career abruptly ended for all of us. 

Facebook is what prompted this writing....opening the app and the blinking cursor beckoning me to share what is on my mind.  What's on my mind Facebook asks...and a stream of thought comes over me.  The last week, I have spent a lot of time on my own.  I like to be alone. I enjoy the quiet.  Sometimes I listen to podcasts, sometimes I just listen to the silence.  When I am going through something hard, my people know that I need to be alone to process it and make sense of it. I need that time and I am thankful for the understanding.  I am thankful for the silence.

I miss watching my kid play the sport she loves so much. There, I said it.  I was ready for the end of her career, just not like this. I can’t really explain it in a way that makes sense or in a way that doesn’t sound “dramatic”.  You see, I know she will be just fine, she will heal and will go on and do great things with her life.  I hear you all when you tell me that, I also already knew that.  That doesn’t really make the processing of all of this any easier.  Until I gain perspective, I am held hostage by the why’s, what if’s and why her’s. 

All of my daughters are “high flyers” who have been given much and, in return, will give much back.  They are my greatest achievements and I have often shared my pride in the people they have become to the readers of this blog.  Lainey will also shine bright in whatever she chooses to do, no doubts there.  But, for now, dammit, I miss watching her play…I grieve for the sudden end of her career, I grieve for her and for me and for so many others who admired her or who just loved watching her play – the same as I did.  To see her on the sidelines, silently wiping a stray tear that escapes during the national anthem, then immediately flipping the switch to cheer and clap and help coach her team is one of the hardest things to watch as a mom….and one of my proudest.  It seems easier for her than it is for me, I am thankful for that but wonder how much she is faking?  I know she still doesn’t understand, she still tells me how unfair it is that “the girl who loved volleyball more than anyone else, is the girl who had her season cut short” – her teammates would attest to that.  Life is unfair my child, it is just unfair sometimes. 

 I fight every day for perspective.  As I nested this week, prepping for Thanksgiving, making our home beautiful, planning, cleaning, organizing.  I tuned out of the sadness and anger and let the work absorb me.  Being busy helps.  I know we will make sense of this someday – the why is always the last piece to any complicated puzzle.  As the mom, the pressure to have the answer is persistent – this time I don’t have the answer, I don’t know the ‘why’, I just have to trust that my past experiences with difficult things will be the same as this and the ‘why’ will reveal itself when it is good and ready.  In its own time…meanwhile we sit with these feelings, overwhelmed by them at times, even the busy has to end, and the silence becomes thoughts that thunder through my mind and storm down on my heart.  So many feelings of frustration, anger, bitterness, sadness, empathy, compassion….too many feelings every single day - and the busy is only temporary.  

Time will have to be our other friend.  As time passes, oh so slowly in these situations, the feelings do become muted, the edges soften.  A small perspective is gained, it is not consistent though and ebbs and flows as I process it all, but it is there, and I know with time it will grow.  

As the magical perspective takes hold more and more, I am able to see many things – the team of incredible athletes soldiering on.  The devastation they all felt with their leader going down evident from every player and parent on the team.  The night it happened - the sadness, the fear, the doubt – we all felt it.  It is a blur to me, that night, but the hugs and tears and reassurances we all gave each other are crystal clear.  We all knew though, we all knew.  

I left the gym that night for the first time ever without hugging Jenna....Lainey’s roommate, teammate and best friend. The tear soaked face of her and her parents were just too much for me.  This wonderful person and player who I admire so much, so upset and hurt and my heart couldn’t take anymore.  Her sadness palpable the next day as I found her sitting on their couch, in silence, tears streaming down her face.  Unspoken - but I know she grieved for Lainey, for me, for the team and mostly, for herself.  She found me in the laundry room a little bit later. We hugged and cried and held each other there.  Our strength when Lainey was around dissipating as we gave in to the emotions that were consuming us.  Her doubting her ability to be on the court without Lainey, me loving her for saying that but knowing full well what a bad ass she is  and that she would be just fine.  The pure emotion shared by everyone around this one event, the opportunity to make something great out of this - filed away. 

Together for 5 years. Breaking records, making history. Roommates, teammates, best friends. Jenna will finish on the court without Lainey but they will forever be side by side

The team and parents came to realize, with our blessing, that it was not only okay to play without her, but it was okay and expected they still win and they still play with joy.  These athletes have shown incredible mental toughness – they have soldiered on in the face of great adversity.  While Lainey was an important piece to their exceptional success, she was just one piece.  As volleyball is the ultimate team sport, everyone on the team has a part in the success and the failures.  Her team had to learn that and they did, they are...with each win, their confidence growing.   These young women have learned valuable life lessons from this, lessons they will draw on later in life.  I have no doubt about that.  I add that to my score card and store it away for when the thunder comes and I can’t silence my mind. 

I am a big believer in saying the important things out loud.  I give speeches at birthdays and graduations, I make toasts and I buy “shots for the bar” to celebrate anything and everything.  One of my friends mentioned this to me over the summer, she said, “I was telling a friend how open you are with your feelings and how you tell people you love them and admire them and why and you do it publicly and I think that is really cool….”  I had never thought about it but it reminded me that most people do this at funerals.  My dad’s eulogy  was so well received by everyone as I wrote of his life and my admiration for him.  But, I still wonder if my dad knew? All of our quiet nights spent in various hospitals, mostly him talking and me listening…I can’t remember if he knew how I felt.  I know we apologized for life’s ups and downs, and we forgave each other in the very next breath. I guess that is most important, but it does bother me that he may have died and didn’t know – I wish I had written the eulogy as a tribute to him before he passed.  The realization that I didn’t sits with me and that goes in the regret pile. 

NKU fans made signs for Lainey and 
her team had her on the bench as she recovered
from surgery at home

Lainey’s injury caused her to be eulogized in a sense.  I can’t even begin to count the posts, pictures, texts, cards, flowers, emails, dm’s, and face to face interactions she has had from so many people.  Young athletes who admire her, older athletes who she played with or competed against, past coaches who are sad for her, opposing coaches who loved to game plan around her, current and past teammates and parents who share our sadness and grief, new friends and old friends who know how much she loved playing volleyball and understand the devastation.  I could go on and on.  The fact that she got to hear these things, that people took the time to reach out to her and express what she means to them, what competing against her or with her meant to them, heck she even got a couple job offers out of the deal…she is lucky and blessed in this regard, this would not have happened without her injury---I file the realization away. 

The new setter on the team is a senior, Katie Meyer.  She is a year behind Lainey and has never had much opportunity to play. She knew that when she committed to Wright State. She accepted her role and so did her family.  They have been some of Lainey’s biggest cheerleaders throughout her career.  Lainey and I have often said Katie is one of the best setters in the league and would play on just about any other roster.  She did her job well at Wright State and is an important part of their past success, running the scout team, watching the games from the sidelines, helping Lainey know where openings are, etc.  But now, Katie gets her chance.  I am sure it is bittersweet for her and her family, knowing that Lainey will never play again, but so proud that she has her time to shine.  She deserves it.  She works hard and has pushed Lainey to be the best she could be over the years. She had big shoes to fill but she is doing it.  She isn’t Lainey and that is a-ok, Katie brings her own gifts and talents to the court that are different than Laineys, but stellar all the same.  The team has rallied around her and the coaching staff believes in her.  I am proud of her for stepping in as she has, because nothing is more important right now than this team continuing to win and accomplishing all of their goals.  That rests with her now and her years of training and sacrifice are paying off.  It is nice to see her family get to watch her, I remember that, I miss that – watching your kid do something they love – there is really nothing like it.  Kudos to all of them, she has earned it and so have they. I hope they find joy and satisfaction.  Her success and her taking this opportunity and running with it gets filed away.  

I have begun to look forward to things after volleyball.  In the immediate future, everyone will be home for Thanksgiving and we are looking forward to a small gathering in our PJ’s playing cards and just being together.  When your kids are spread across the country, nothing is more important than family time. In the more distant future, there are so many great things, I can’t even list them all.  But I make myself consciously aware - there is so much good and positive in my life.  I am blessed in ways others can only dream of.  I realize these things easier now that some time has passed but still I am at the point of forcing it.  The good thoughts are not natural yet - the sadness is, the bitterness is – these feelings, not at all who I am, but overcome with those emotions.  I choose to remind myself by looking at photos or snapchat memories – the life we have created filled with love and happiness.  This blip of despair will pass, I know this – that also gets filed away.  

The next couple weeks will pass.  I won’t wish them away.  I will feel every feeling.  The team will continue to do great and set records and (hopefully) be playing in a third NCAA tournament in four years!  WOW wouldn’t that be incredible.  

My gratitude at what it was may take some time.  My bitterness and questioning won’t go away over night or even over weeks.  My sorrow for my daughter will heal, as she heals.  I will persist at being conscious of the blessings, even as the thunder of the despair weighs on me.  I have learned through other difficulties that soldiering on, while feeling every bit of it, is the way for me.  It is not for everyone, but it is for me.  It is why I file the good parts away and draw on them as much as possible when the despair rears its head.  

I won’t ever see her play again.

She won’t set the all time assists record.

She may not be Setter of the Year

Player of the Year will never be

She may not even make an All League team

She won’t play in another NCAA tournament

     …these dreams are gone…

 

I will always get to be her mom.

I share her future and her past, 

I am her rock and her number one fan no matter what she is doing

     …these things will never change…

 

She has set the standard at Wright State.

She will ALWAYS be remembered for how she played and what kind of person and teammate she was

She will cheer and help coach and relish in her team’s victories

She will continue to impact not only the volleyball world but the world in general.

She will do big things because that is what she does. 

      …these things are true….

 Eventually, days will go by that we don’t think about it, tears won’t fall and life will move on. This is how it is, this much I know to be true.  Life goes on…

To Robin Burrow

Such a silly comparison, I know, but on the day of the biggest game in Bengals recent history, I woke up thinking of Joe Burrow's mom.

You see, I am also a sports mom. I was an athlete, a coach, a devoted fan and for the past 20 years, I have been a "mom". From grade school, middle school, select soccer, club volleyball all the way to D1 - my longest role has been as a sports mom. Robin Burrow is also a sports mom too and today, I thought of her.

Lifelong Bengals fans will understand the feelings I had as I woke this morning. It was familiar to me, both excitement and dread at the "big game". The same feelings I wake with on almost every single game day for Lainey and her WSU volleyball team. An idiotic comparison, maybe, but hear me out.

On the morning of a big match, I send the text, "GAME DAY! Raider UP!" to the tribe of Raider fans that regularly attend or watch her games. Feigning excitement to mask the anxiety. Only letting on to a few others the dread that I feel as Lainey prepares to play, her game ritual the same - gets treatment, goes through serve and pass, pregame meal, warm ups begin. Meanwhile, my game day ritual is also the same - organize the parent tailgate, sharing food and drink a couple hours before the game, my hospitality a brilliant disguise to attempt to overcome my game day anxiety. Regularly looking at the clock, my heart never really slowing down....finally game time.

When your kid competes at something that matters so much to them, the winning so important that she literally plays injured, beat up and broken just to help her team win. The anxiety of her not winning only adds to the pit. The pit grows. It is only once I walk into the gym and see her and see the team and feel the familiarity of the gym - the sights, sounds, smells - that I am comforted a bit. "She's got this..." I say to myself. I calm a bit, knowing that she will always give her best, play her hardest and do her part in leading the team to success. I calm a bit more. The excitement builds as the anxiety drains. Once the whistle blows, I am usually ok, I enjoy the game and watching her. At the end, I know it is me she will come to, win or lose, I know it is me that will join the excitement of a victory and bear the ugliness of a loss. It is a privilege....

I wonder what Joe Burrow's mom does on game days? National Championship? First NFL start? Game to clinch the AFC North? Wild Card game day....today...playoffs....I wonder if NFL quarterback moms feel the same heightened emotions that mid major D1 volleyball moms feel...or are they, like their incredibly gifted athletes, "built different"? Pee wee league to high school to college to the NFL - do they learn to just "be happy to be there", do the years of training, of watching their kids in the 'big games' make days like today easier? I doubt it....because in my experience, as Lainey got older, the game day emotions are more intense - give me Playing for a Purpose vs St. Henry in front of a thousand people over the Horizon League Championship, in front of a couple hundred, any day of the week. Am I unique in this, I don't know. This public admission a first reveal of these thoughts and emotions.

Today, the feeling in Cincinnati is different, we are hopeful, we are pumped, we are all in with Joe Burrow and THESE Bengals....but Joe's mom - I bet her stomach hurts just a little bit as she prepares for another game day - bigger stakes than ever before but for sports moms everywhere - the familiar feeling.

I hope Robin is in the stands today. I hope she gets to the game a little early and looks down on the field and sees her son and, in seeing him, her anxiety calms down. Seeing him, prepared, strong, confident and ready to go - knowing he will do what he can to help his team win. I hope when the whistle blows and the game starts, Robin is able to enjoy the game and know her son did all he could to help his team.

It doesn't matter that this is the NFL and not pee wee or Horizon League volleyball - at the end of the day, he is her son just as Lainey is my daughter, the stakes are higher but the emotions are the same. I feel for you Robin, I really do.

"Ends", "Lasts" and Everything in Between

The wake up call came early this morning. Phone beckoning from the nightstand, a rude intruder to what was a short night’s rest.  Rolling over, shaking off the bits of sleep I was able to enjoy, I am in Omaha, NE for a volleyball trip – a ritual. 

It is a common thing for me, early morning wake ups for volleyball games, tournaments, or practices.  A nearly every weekend thing for all but a few months of the year, since I was 15.  Wake up, get ready, go to the gym…repeat.  First as a player, then as a coach, and then, my longest tenure, as a mom.  Whistles blowing, balls bouncing, that ‘knee pad smell’, team nest area, ref, play, sit, ref, play, sit…all part of this routine, this life long relationship I have had with this sport. 

This morning, the wave of sadness came over me as soon as I realized that last night was another end.  I watched my daughter and her team make history by playing in the second round of the NCAA National Championships.  They lost to #4 ranked Texas.  Another season has ended.  

As one can imagine, I have had many ‘ends’ in my 37 years in this sport.  The end to great seasons, not so great seasons, players moving on or graduating, coaches I will miss and some I am glad to put in my rear view, me getting new players, my daughters getting new teammates which means I get to meet new families – the “ends” have taught me one thing after all of these years and that is that THIS team, with THESE coaches, with THESE players, with THESE families will never be again.  When a season ends, good or bad, the season ends and that’s it. 

I know most of the time, I am ready for the end.  Frankly, after months of being with the same people, players, and coaches – the “ends” usually feel right. As a player and coach, I was usually ready to move on, a little burnt out on the same cast of characters, needing to add a new player for a particular position or maybe a certain parent making my life difficult ruined the positive aspects of a season. Sometimes, success was achieved and I knew I had taken my teams as far as I could.  Being the first coach in Cincinnati to qualify Open at 16U, I had the ‘dream team’, but even that season, I was ready for it to end.  My belly bulging with new life, when Nationals were over, I happily said goodbye, realizing the magic of that season would be hard to replicate, a bit sad of course, but looking forward to my next adventure as a first-time mom.  My life always moving on but also always including volleyball in one way or another.  A constant companion. 

As a parent, I was always ready for the end.  At the time, the upcoming seasons seeming infinite.  I remember when all three of my daughters were playing club and I was coaching – the feeling that this affair with the sport of volleyball would never truly be finished, the years stretching in front of me, the end of the road not visible.  It happens slowly, the middle daughter decides to play fast pitch softball instead of volleyball.  A few years later, the oldest daughter decides her promising volleyball career is over – the anticipated club season, after her team finished 7^th in Open the year before, ended before it even started.  Choices they made. Choices I supported.  Choices that, looking back, gave a finality to the end that I didn’t realize at the time.  I think back to the endless road of volleyball stretched in front of me, the anticipating of the tournaments, the emails from the coaches, organizing hotels and team dinners, getting the team socks together when they were little, it all seemed endless.  It all seemed like it would last forever. 

And then there was one…the youngest daughter.  When it was time for her to choose a sport to focus on out of the many she had tried, she chose volleyball.  We often joke about her unfulfilled career as a soccer goalie.  I guess I knew what her final sport of choice would be when the director of the soccer club told me she could be moved up to the top team and start as the goalie, but he needed her to be a “soccer only athlete” for this to happen.  The reply from my then 13 year old told the story, “Do I have to go to ALL of the practices or can I just do goalie training?’  When I told her that, of course, she would have to do all the practices, she said ‘thanks, but no thanks.”  She stayed on the second level team that season, and that was her last year of soccer.  My volleyball player was born, ironically, thanks to a soccer coach forcing her to make a choice.  

This morning’s wake up call, represented one of my last – not that Lainey’s career is ending now, but it is ending soon enough.  I rounded the last bend and there it is, the dead end road of volleyball…it’s right there, I can see it.  The unfamiliarity with this feeling of not being ready, weighing heavily on my heart and mind.  

Finally....there... I said it...I am not ready.  All my bravado about always being good with the "ends" blown away by the rattling of my phone alarm on the night stand in Omaha.  

I think all moms have seen the poem on social media about the ‘lasts’ that we do for our children as they grow up – the last diaper change, the last time we help with bath time, the last time we tie their shoes, the last time this and the last time that – a stark reminder to parents everywhere to take a moment, breathe, experience, and be present.  I think I speak for moms everywhere when I say we didn’t, more than we did.  Life so hurried all the time when our children are young.  Organized chaos in the middle of school, activities, friends, doctor appointments...we are rushing from this event or that or, in my case, this practice or this tournament, to the next one – hotels, laundry, travel, repeat.  What is ironic about that poem about last times, that we all know so well, is what I have learned over all these years-- as the “lasts” also came to an end - with the aging out of my kids – is that as life slows down and they need us less, the “lasts” make a more permanent mark on us.  

• while I don’t remember the last time I tied her shoe, I do remember my last Clemson football game while my daughters were students there; 
• last time I waved goodbye as they boarded the school bus – no recollection – last time all of us slept under the same roof, as a family, I can tell you the date (July 29, 2019, if anyone is wondering); 
• last time I sent in lunch money for the cafeteria – no idea – last time I packed her lunch for a club tournament – I went so far as to commemorate that milestone with a social media post.  The indelible mark of these “lasts”, a tattoo on my heart.  

For all of these final events, I actually was able to take a moment, breathe, experience, and be present and I am so thankful I did. 

This morning, when the early alarm sounded, it was one of my first thoughts.  Tightness in my throat as I got ready, packing the last few things into my suitcase.  Lessons learned over these many years of “ends” and “lasts”...pay attention, it will all end before you know it.  This end looming, the dead end literally right there, in my mind’s eye, I see it clearly now.  I have learned to appreciate this sport, the ups and downs, the incredible wins and heartbreaking losses.  The phone calls from her after a tough practice, the facetimes after the big wins.  I can remember the matches. I can remember specific plays she has made, her athleticism amazing me every time I watch her.  I am tattooing these things into my mind.  I am an old mom now and I know things don’t last forever.  

Whatever happens, I know I have at least one more year (maybe two depending on her decision) with her playing and me watching and us sharing this sport.  I know I have one more season and then I don’t know…what I am certain of is I will savor everything this upcoming season throws my way, I will cheer every point, I will answer every phone call, I will make the decision to feel the feelings, smell the smells, see the sights…I will do it all because this “end” may also be my “last” and I want to be ready. 

My Dad Passed -- A Eulogy

My dad died a week ago tomorrow. We concluded his final goodbyes today with his burial and family lunch at his farm.

He passed after just a few days at home, proceeding just as he would have wanted after he made his decision to come home from the hospital.  I think we all thought we would have more time, I know I did, but dad, per usual, had his own plans and that was okay too.

Over the years dad and I had spent much time together talking about everything under the sun.  I am no saint and I would sometimes complain about having to care for him, I would get frustrated at his poor health more than at him, but I wasn't perfect in his journey.  That being said, I can honestly say that even after some of my most trying days, I would always say that I knew it was a  blessing that I got to spend this time with him.  To share the stories, wipe his tears, hold his hand, hear the same jokes and stories over and over and laughing all the same.  I know I was lucky, I cherished him and our time together, more than I cursed it.

After he passed, we went about our duties to prepare for his funeral and our final goodbyes.  Thankfully, we all had enough time to sit with him and listen to his final wishes for us, assign us tasks, recount his memories.  He truly did pass peacefully, at home, just as he had always wanted.

The funeral was on Saturday, followed by a lunch reception...no visitation because he didn't want that, cremation because he did.  In the dark nights of his various hospital stays he would make his plans with me, "arrangements" he called them, and I promised to honor them.  My brothers and my mom trusted that I knew the plans and allowed me to lead them.  It was touching, the delicate dance the five remaining Wessels did this past week, difficult for me at times, but for my dad I would do anything.  I have never felt so united with my family, ours a testy past as is the case of so many families, all of us having made mistakes, hurting each other, not enough I'm sorries to make it better, sometimes I'm sorry never even said.  But, for this, for our dad, we came together and joined each other in our grief and sadness and rallied together like the Clan dad always wanted us to be.  I am proud of us and I know dad loved it.

I am not sure why I got to deliver the eulogy, it was one part of the mass dad and I didn't discuss.  I was writing this blog anyway so I offered and I think the others were glad for the volunteer.  Eulogies aren't easy, not that I have ever done one, but I could imagine.  I set off writing, cursor blinking at me from the page, taunting me as I struggled like I had never struggled before, writing always my friend but now had become my foe.

I walked and thought and walked some more, my best writing is done in my head as I traverse my hometown with my dogs on lead...it didn't work this time, words evasive, stories in my head but not making it to paper.  I listened to a recording I had of dad from last summer, his life story in a way, but more just stories he told to me as we had lunch on his farm.  I am not sure why I recorded it but so thankful I did.  It was after hearing his voice again, strong and steady, hearing his laughter, his attention to detail, his corny jokes and funny stories that it came to me and the words poured on to the page.

I hope it is good, I hope it honored my dad in the way he deserved after a life he spent sacrificing for us.  Everyone said it was very well written and that I delivered it well, it is all a blur for me.  My heart racing 400 beats per minute, the slightest quiver in my voice, periodic pauses to catch my breath or to clear the slight lump trying to form in my throat.  When it was over, I thought I would be relieved but, instead I was more nervous than before as I hoped the expectations of my family were met with the story I just shared.  I hoped they thought I did our dad justice.

I share it now here because on this blog it is what I do when things happen to me.  I write and I share and I hope that it matters to someone else who may have these same feelings or happenings.  I share this because my dad deserved to have his story told....the American Dream, an eternal love story with my mom, successful business, proud family and wonderful grandchildren.  I share it because dad deserved nothing less.  I hope you feel the same after you read it.

It is both a blessing and a curse to be the one that gives the eulogy at a funeral.  A blessing because I get to speak to all of you about my dad, I get to tell you from my perspective who my dad was, what I think is important, the stories I remember.  A curse because how in the world do I properly honor this incredible person who was my dad.  I will do my best although I am sure I will fall short. 

First and foremost, dad was an American.  He loved this country and everything it stood for.  He was thankful for the opportunities it provided him, knowing that if he lived anyplace else, he could work as hard and long as he did here in the United States and would never have reaped the rewards that were afforded him.  When asked one time, “If Germany and the United States are playing each other in sports, who do you cheer for?”  Dad couldn’t even understand the question because once he was here he was American all the way.  He cherished his time in Germany, he missed his family and some of the traditions but he assimilated to life here and made this his home, instilling in all of us the same love of country.  One of his greatest achievements in life was when he became a citizen in March, 1963.  In a life of many great accomplishments, this was one of his most proud.

My dad was a farmer at heart.  He loved nothing more than to go to his farm in Warsaw and drive around, look at the deer and turkeys, fix the fences, tend to his bees, plant turnips and clover for the wildlife, and spend time with us – his farm and his family were all that mattered to him the last several years of his life.  I think the 800 acres represented his life coming full circle from his small farming community in Northern Germany to a life well lived only to end up on a farm in Gallatin County, KY.  Besides my mom, us kids and our families, nothing else mattered at the end.

In July of 2019, mom, dad and I took a drive to his farm in Warsaw.  We planned to have lunch and spend the afternoon looking out the front window at the deer and turkey that regularly wandered in the field.  For a few years now, I had been wanting to talk to dad about his life story, how he came to the USA, his growing up years in Lorup, Germany and his early life with mom and our family.  I am the youngest of the four kids so my memories of dad start when he was about 45.  I always wondered, from his perspective, what happened in those first 45 years.  It was on this day at his farm, having lunch, that I started asking questions.  I recorded our talk and I am so glad I did.  With dad passing it is something my mom, brothers, and our families will cherish forever.  Dad was so funny and quick witted and during the almost two hour conversation, mom and I laughed about 20 times.  He loved to make jokes, I have heard many a nurse fall for one of his favorites.  Nurses always ask, “Mr. Wessels do you have hearing aids?” (side note - he didn’t) and my dad would say ‘huh?’ and the nurse would repeat the question and dad would say ‘huh’ and this would go on, with me laughing at him, until the nurse caught on that she was an unaware participant in dad’s comedy routine, then she would laugh too.  I still smile thinking about it.  Most of all he loved to hear mom laugh – even if the joke was on her – mom always laughed at dad.  It is one of my favorite things about them.  It is one of the things I will miss the most.  And I know mom will miss his humor, his stories and his vast knowledge of so many things.  Just since he has passed mom and I have looked at each other at least ten times wondering the answer to something, or needing a phone number and saying ‘Dad would know that”.  I told mom, I am going to have to teach her how to google since our real life encyclopedia is gone.  It is one of the many things we will have to get used to. 

Dad moved from Lorup, a small farming community of about 1500 people in Northern Germany when he was 17.  He had completed an apprenticeship to become a brick layer and, with his new skill set and tools from his teacher, he moved to Dusseldorf.   The story goes that when dad went to pack his few possessions for the move from Lorup, his mom hid all of the suitcases and told him he wasn’t leaving.  Determined, Dad found a box, loaded up what he had, hugged his family goodbye and set off on his life.    

This move started what would become a 10 year adventure with dad making life changing decisions, meeting some incredibly kind people, getting good advice from mentors along the way, passing on a few relationships and keeping his mind positive - looking at his life as a journey, only he would know when he reached his final destination.  He said, “I loved to read and I knew there was a whole world out there.  I was young and strong and smart and knew I could make a better life for myself in the US than what I could have in Germany.”  His life was calculated, always conscience of his ultimate goal – to move to the USA and make a life here. 

After two or so years working and living in Dusseldorf, dad saw an advertisement in the newspaper for an all-expenses paid trip to Canada in exchange for six months work as a farm hand.  Without hesitation he signed up.  He knew no one in Canada, he didn’t speak French or English, he had little money…all he needed was his passport and a healthy dose of courage…he had both.

After an 8 day journey he arrived on March 11, 1953.  The Caldwell family were his hosts and they started the kindness that dad was lucky enough to enjoy, meeting people along the way that only wanted to help him.  He would read the English newspaper, looking at the pictures and reading the captions to learn his first words of this new language.  The language barrier did, however, cause some funny situations.  One night he was in the field chopping wood and Mrs. Caldwell called out to him “Dinner! Dinner!”  Dad, hearing that word immediately translated it to his native low German and thought Mrs. Caldwell needed him to chop the wood thinner.  He chopped the next pieces as thin as he could and, to his surprise, Mrs. Caldwell came out again yelling, “Dinner! Dinner!”  Frustrated, he thought, “This lady must be crazy, I can’t cut this wood any thinner.”  He gave up, went inside to a warm kitchen with a bounty of food on the table and laughed to himself as he realized what ‘dinner’ was.  He had so many stories like this. 

After his six months of work on the farm were finished, he moved on to Kitchener, Canada.  In Kitchener he rented a room from a Romanian family.  He said once they got to know him they would invite him almost every night to have dinner with their family, they helped him with his English and created a sense of community that helped anchor dad and gave him a sense of belonging.  At this point he had been on his own for about five years with no family or serious relationship, just dad alone in the world.

His mom hated the fact that he was alone, not understanding that the solitude for dad wasn’t that big of a deal.  She was very family oriented and dad inherited that trait as he grew older and had a family of his own.  She orchestrated Dad’s move to Pittsburgh to live with his great Uncle John.  So on December 31, 1955 dad boarded a bus to the USA, arriving in Buffalo and eventually making his way to Pittsburgh.

While in Pittsburgh he worked in a machine shop.  He said the money was good, it was a union shop, but it wasn’t work he particularly enjoyed.  He wanted to work his trade, build things, be outside.  After about a year, his friend from Lorup, Willie Gerdes had written him telling him he had recently immigrated to Northern Kentucky.  Dad had heard that other people from his hometown, now known collectively as The Lorupers, were also in Northern Kentucky.  As he told me this part of the story he affectionately called them a Tribe when recalling his first visit here to see everyone.  While none were directly related to him, when he came to visit, he knew this would be his forever home.  The man who would become my Uncle Matth (my mom’s brother) offered dad a job on the weekend he visited and dad readily accepted.  Matth was a cabinet maker and had just started his own building business and had plenty of work, dad recalled.  So for the promise of $1.45 an hour, dad packed up his belongings and headed to Northern Kentucky. 

When he got here, the Lorupers hosted a party.  He laughed recalling Herman Moeller on the drums and Willie Gerdes on the accordion – honestly all of us first generation Lorupers fondly remember Mr. Gerdes playing his accordion any chance he got.  Dad loved it here immediately. 

It was soon after moving that dad and mom met at a dance.  They knew each other from Germany but dad was 6 years older than mom.  When he first left Lorup she was a little girl who was best friends with his sister.  Dad was working for Uncle Matth and mom had recently immigrated herself.  To hear dad tell it, several people had to encourage him to ask mom for a date and mom was just pining away for him…like I said, dad was very funny.  Either way, they started dating and mom was drawn to dad for his work ethic and goals.  Mom was also a huge Elvis Presley fan – young Elvis in 1957 – and while dad couldn’t sing a lick he did have a striking resemblance to a blonde Elvis – tall, strong, thin – so handsome, healthy and young.  I am sure mom was smitten. 

After about a year of dating, mom was very homesick, she came here when she was 17 and had a series of jobs where she didn’t like the work and people were not very nice to her.  She told dad she wanted to go back to Germany.  Dad told it this way, “I knew I wanted to marry her but I wasn’t moving back to Germany and I wasn’t going to be with mom if she really wanted to live in Germany.  I told mom that she should go back to Lorup and look around and see what is there. She should stay for two months and I would wait for her and if she came back I would be there, but if she went and stayed for longer than two months I was moving on…”  I never said dad was a romantic type – instead he was practical, down to earth, and straight forward - that was his style.  I am sure mom heard what he said and, I mean, who could resist it…she didn’t leave and the rest is history. 

They married in 1960 and proceeded to build what they both look back on as the best life they could have imagined.  Mom would say that dad’s adventurous spirit never died. He would take chances in their business that would keep her up at night as he lay sleeping peacefully next to her, confident that things would work out, and they usually did.  One time, dad had a problem with zoning for one of his apartment communities – the city changed the zoning status and told dad he couldn’t build the apartments anymore.  Dad had already sold one of his other properties and had put all of that money into the new project so the hardship the city had imposed on them was palpable.  Facing the thought of losing everything, dad took his backhoe and just started digging and building…no building permit, nothing, and the city trying to stop him.  Eventually, they ran out of the money he had on hand, the development stopped.  He and mom got in their car with my older brothers in tow and drove to Cincinnati where they met with a man from 5/3 Bank.  With an interview and a handshake, the banker made the construction loan to dad and the project continued.  It is now Devou Village Apartments in Fort Wright.

I could go on and on about dad’s business success but I am not sure that is who he really was.  Yes he was an incredibly hard worker, leaving at 6 in the morning, coming home to eat at 5 and then going back out until dark, sometimes running the car so the lights could illuminate his work.  He built both of the homes I grew up in with his own two hands, he could do it all – from foundation to finish, he was incredibly talented.  All the while, as he was working hard and having a young family, he also was involved in so many other things.  He served on city council for many years in Crescent Springs, he was a member of the Building Association, he served on the planning commission and he and mom were active here at St. Joe’s on committees and helping with the festival.  When the city of Crescent Springs consisted of nothing but a two lane Buttermilk Pike surrounded by farms, dad secured federal funding for sewer lines to be put under the city streets.  He then helped each homeowner get the pipe to their homes – he would go with his backhoe after working all day and do the install, with the help of the homeowner.  That was just one of the many things he did for the city, there are many more.

In the years after us kids graduated high school and college and went on to have our own lives, mom and dad surrounded themselves with great friends – they travelled, had parties, and hosted events.  They transition seamlessly into empty nesters, buying a home in Florida, owning a boat, making new friends and spending their winters in the Florida sunshine.  They had earned much success with their hard work and sacrifice and they, rightfully, enjoyed it. 

We talk a lot in our family about business and work. I think that is nature of being German, it equates with being hard workers.  Being a hard worker and building his business was important to dad but an incident a couple years ago, taught me even more about what he truly valued.  In January, 2018 dad fell and broke his leg.  It was traumatic for him and took a special kind of strength for him at age 85 to come back from.  During his stay at the rehab hospital, a social worker came to visit and did an extensive interview with dad.  I am not sure why but it seemed they were trying to measure his cognitive ability.  This makes sense but anyone who knew dad knew he remained sharp as a tack up to his last days.  Even the social worker was amazed at the level of detail he could recall.  She asked him question after question about his life…and one question, in particular, stuck out to me….”If you could name one thing in your life that you are most proud of, what would it be?”  My mind raced as I thought back on dad’s life – coming to the USA, becoming a citizen, his company, the Gateway Center, his farm….but when dad answered he said, “you know the one thing I am most proud of is my family and my wife. I have the best kids and grandkids anyone could imagine and my wife is a saint who has put up with me all these years.”  It was sweet, poignant and truly shows that all the success in the world can’t make up for the love of family.

The last two years dad hired a man to help him with his exercises and drive him to various appointments and, of course, take daily visits to the farm.  Jerry has been with dad almost every day since, dad ended up calling Jerry his best friend, he would tell me Jerry was his arms and legs at the farm as dad became less and less able to do certain tasks himself.  I am sure Jerry could stand up here and tell you stories about the situations the two of them got into that would have us all in stitches.  They were quite a pair.  When Jerry learned of dad’s passing, he was as devastated as the rest of us and his first response was, “your dad taught me more about being a husband, father and love of family than anyone else I know.”  That was dad…in a nutshell. 

A lot of people who met my dad when he was younger would comment on how tall he was, intimidating almost, not knowing him well, not knowing that under that burly exterior was one of the gentlest men I know.  An old softee…that was my dad.  Oh yea when we were younger, more my brothers than me, dad wasn’t afraid to discipline.  Like all of you, we have the usual stories of a childhood full of crazy rules and even crazier punishments if you broke them.  If friends spent the night on Friday night, they were up with the rest of us on Saturday mornings doing chores.  On Sunday, we were regularly woken up for 9:30 mass by the German music blasting through the surround sound speakers. I remember one night when I went to my cousin Jack’s 21^st birthday party and, to noone’s surprise, had a little bit too much fun, earning me quite the hangover the next day….while mom didn’t speak to me for a week, it was dad who snuck me chicken noodle soup as I suffered in my bedroom.  He could not bear it when one of us hurt or were sad.  Another time, dad tried to raise cattle at his farm. This venture didn’t last too long as he had a harder and harder time sending them off to slaughter, suddenly he and mom were the proud parents to a herd of cattle – dad’s newest pets – he was so kind and soft hearted underneath all that gruff.  

All of us kids and grandkids have been given so much by our parents, especially dad.  His most loved farm will live on under the direction of my brothers and their sons.  The business he created and made so successful also lives on with the help of my brothers.  I will keep alive his memory for the grandchildren.  I promised dad that I would always take care of my mom, one of his biggest worries as he realized he would soon be leaving us.  I know we will all live on in his honor, we will make decisions just as he did that will help us attain our goals in life.  We will all strive to make him proud.

I see dad in all of us.  Bernie is becoming a farmer like dad – he has a beautiful farm right next to dad’s in Warsaw, he is also, underneath his tough exterior, the biggest softie in the bunch.  Carlo is a gentle soul – he has dad’s quiet strength and cool head that helps all of us as we face challenges, he is dependable and someone we all count on.  Rick has dad’s work ethic, intelligence and a thirst for knowledge.  He loves to read and, like dad usually has the answer. Me – I have dad’s love of family and love of a good time – I take pride in surrounding myself with my family and close friends – dad kept a small circle and so do I, but once you are in the circle, our loyalty knows no bounds.  Mom will always have dad’s memories and the incredible life and love story they built.  I had the privilege of watching that love manifest itself for my entire life but even more so in these past ten years as dad’s health began to decline, they both taught me so much. 

Dad also lives on in the grandkids…Kent is an entrepreneur, Nick and David strive to be farmers, Jon and Jake are wicked smart, Michael is always up for a good time, Rylee is an adventure seeker, Norb is funny and outgoing, Micaela is our gentle soul, Chris is still young but has a quiet strength about him, Ben carries on dad’s name and with it his work ethic, and Lainey is a leader, out spoken and direct. They all love the outdoors, the boys all hunt and fish, they will carry on the traditions Opa so dearly loved – above all family first.  They sure did love their Opa and their Opa sure did love them.  I know they all will miss him every day.

We love you dad, we will miss you, but we will make you proud. Thank you to everyone who is here and who listened to me.  We hope to visit with all of you after the mass at Fort Mitchell Country Club to share your favorite memories of dad, have a nice meal and enjoy a drink in dad’s honor.