Art is where my grief comes out. As I watched my father linger until he passed January 31 from here to the next, complex feelings hit me that I have to acknowledge. At 96, he led an interesting and fulfilling life, but he was not ready to go. Nor did I but I also hated watching him suffer.
My Mother
When my mother was dying, a relatively short few months that were excreuitiqting to witness, we all spent hours by her side as she surfaced from a btain injury-induced fog and angry to be living as she was. At the same time, my family was moving to North Carolina early that summer. One day, ignoring the boxes needing to be packed, I sat down at the sewing machine and played with a pile of scraps. Almost magically (because I was not really aware of what I was doing), a complex flower emerged. The design came from one my sister’s gorgeous paintings. The luscious flower was how I celebrated my gorgeous, lovely and talented mother.
Grieving My Fahter AND My Mother
I feel like I’m grieving my mother all over again.
For months, when my dad was diagnosed with Covid for the umpteenth time. I was making, creating, sewing etc. from the moment I was able to move until I fell into bed. When he passed I was angry. And the urge to create stopped. I’m trying to rekindle it. Here’s my dad’s story — and my mom’s since they were married for 55 years.
A tongue-in-cheek version of my dad’s story
He was an amazing storyteller, so my memories are full of tall tales, humor, and life lessons.
My dad, John (Jack) Kerr Jr. passed away at 96 surrounded by his family on January 31, 2024. We all like to think our loved ones pass peacefully but my dad was the most stubborn person I know. He would have lived forever if he could have. So I prefer to think of him kicking and screaming on his way out the door.
Like me, and my brother Paul, he was a native Iowegian. Where our mom benefited from a hospital when we came to be in Iowa, our dad was born on the family farm near the Field of Dreams. A smart and handsome man, he planned on college, caught the war fever, and enlisted in the Navy. At the end of World War II, he returned to school, completing the degrees and licensure required to be a psychiatric social worker. To me, he was a pacifist and anti-violence.
The story goes that upon graduation, he and a beautiful Italian singer in Boston had the very same idea of moving to Miami, I remember them saying they wanted to move as far away from their families as they could. We know they met on a blind date and we’re told there were martinis involved. They had a never-ending wanderlust and curiosity about the world that I cyertainly inherited.
When my dad finally came home from Korea, he sported a mustache that he kept regardless of whims of fashion. Our mom, on the other hand, had a glorious sense of style. The rest of my smart, creative, and fabulous siblings joined the family as my dad pursued his career in multiple states (having a kid in each.) Iowa was supposed to be a stopover like everywhere else, but they stayed awhile. I take full credit for keeping my parents so young — in appearance and action.
Although he never farmed, my dad’s skill with tractors and tools was ever-present. Whether he was adding yet another screened porch to our latest home, roofed with sailcloth, teaching each of us adoring children how to properly lay a brick 🧱driveway, or muck a 🐎 horse stall. Boarding horses and flipping houses (back when there weren’t capital gains taxes…) were our family’s side businesses.
Fun
My parents enjoyed life. But two things stand out to me; sailing and the continuous string of sports cars that brought them so much joy. They toured the country in British roadsters (always hiding the keys declaring no teenager could safely handle a Triumph “TR4” (his first), a Jaguar E-type, or MGB. ). Where as I won’t even take my B to Paul’s house, but she is 50 years old now. They purportedly stuffed all 5 of us kids into a roadster and went to church. Hmmm, but I do remember the long drives in the country with my hair flying everywhere, and my dad telling us there were no speed limits in the country.
Food
In photos, he was once quite trim but my mother was an excellent cook so I have no memory of a thin father. At homr, we spent a lot of time debating the latest book/article we had read, enjoying the Kerr family dish of linguini with clam sauce, preceded by a very dry martini, and accompanied by a glass of wine. It’s kind of cool now to say we made our pasta and polenta from scratch, but at the time I was not impressed by the chore or my mom’s cooking her way through “Mastering the Art of French Cooking….”
Travel
Travel permeated their life. From the annual motorhome trip to the Keys, picking my Nan up on the way back to visiting us kids where we studied. After my mother passed in 2006, he was sad and depressed (no surprise!). So my brilliant sisters and I ganged up on him and “sent” him to Italy where he had the great fortune of meeting, Sharon, his partner of 16 years. With her, he found new meaning which ultimately kept him with us until he was 96. Thank you, Sharon.
Weird and wonderful lessons
My childhood was filled with learning, both weird & wonderful, how to pull a sailboat with a motorhome on a super narrow 7-mile bridge, how to double cluching (👏🏽to Steve), and a unique type of frugality that makes room for wants and passions by cutting back where few would. My favorite home was heated with wood because it was so much cheaper than electric. But the best lesson was reading the wind and always looking over the horizon for the next great place.
Sara Kerr 