Thursday, Nov. 15, 2007
www.JohnWren.com by John S. Wren
“On this day in: 1926 - The NBC radio network opens with 24 stations; 1969 - Dave Thomas opens the first Wendy’s fast food restaurant in Columbus, Ohio; 1979 - John E. Wren, my father, dies of cancer. He was born February 10, 1924.
There was no obituary in the paper for my father, only a funeral notice. Wellshire Presbyterian Church was packed, but many, many people who were not there have told me they wish they’d known about it and that they would have attended.
The service was led by dad’s friend from high school, Rev. Bob Ely who was pastor at the time at Trinity Methodist Church.
There was a reception for the family at Mom and Pop’s condo, where Mom still lives. Someone asked me to say something, and so I did. We ate, I took a walk with dad’s cousin Jack, and it was finished. My ex-wife Janet had all our Denver relatives and some friends over for Thanksgiving a few days later, and then she delivered Allie our 4th child November 25.
Dad’s last words to Mom were, “Don’t worry, honey, we’re going to lick this.” The hospice people had encouraged us to get dad to talk about dying, that it would help him and help us all. I remember sitting face to face with him for the last time in the Porter Hospital lounge and asking him, “what is this like for you, Dad?” He said, “How is what?” Dying. “That’s a morbid question,” he said. We went back to his room, he gave me a silent, final hug. That evening we stood around his bed as he slipped away.
There was no obituary because I could never bring myself to write it through the tears that have come every time I tried, and I insisted that it be my words. It needs to be a book. He was a remarkable, great man. He accomplished the American Dream, and then died way, way too young. We miss you, Pop.
like clouds
vanishing from a puddle
that morning
my father
silently disappeared
--Mariko Kitakubo
Coincidence? Jari Thymian, the widely published poet and author of her new The Meaning of Barns www.finishinglinepress.com shared this with us yesterday at the Denver South Optimists Club in her excellent talk “Haiku Introduction.” When I heard the poem yesterday, and even more as I share it here with you now, it brings tears. It expresses very much how I have felt about that last talk and final hug from Pop 28 years ago. Maybe now after these (final?) tears I can write his obituary.
If you knew Pop, would you write to me? I’d be very grateful, and will keep what you say confidential if you ask me to do so, or I’ll share it in what I write.”