My father was a quiet man.  He didn't need to use a lot of words to let you know what he though. He was not a person to hug & kiss, but he let me know that I was loved.  
When I was a little girl I thought my father was the strongest, bravest man and that he could do anything! Although his physical strength had diminished some over the years, I came to appreciate his strength of character, his bravery to endure life's tragedies' and physical ailments and his life accomplishments. His goal was never to be rich but to have enough to provide for his family when we were at home and then for his retirement years to be able to maintain his independence for as long as possible. He did accomplish that and much more. Some of the things that my father was most proud of were his children and grandchildren. Whether he saw them often or not he would speak of them with affection. Though he had stopped buying gifts for everyone, he had their birthdates written of the calendar and would tell me, today is so and so s' birthday, in case I forgot. There were few material things that my father held in high value. His truck, his WW2 medals, photographs and his tools were the things he placed his value on. To me his truck symbolized his independence, his medals remind me of his bravery and humility, the photographs of his love for his family and his tools remind me of his hard work throughout his life. 
My father taught me many life lessons. I learned to work hard for what I want, don't wait for the last minute and plan for the future.  I learned to be content with what God has provided. I learned to honor my word to commitments made. He taught me to be brave through hardships and tragedies that come, seeing it as just part of life. Do what you need to do, grieve and get on with life. He encouraged me to enjoy the fruits of my labor, share what I have with those in need, and save for a rainy day.   
I will miss my daily chats with my father, his very unique since of humor and his common sense approach to life.  I hope I am able to pass on to my children and grandchildren treasured memories and values that my father has given me. 
I love you Dad.

I'm not sure what to write in this book. I have no unfinished business with my grandfather. He knew how much I loved him. I know how much he loved me. We showed each other in how we treated and spoke to each other. So much of my relationship with him is so special that I couldn't really explain it. It shores me up. It gives me confidence. We had a deep connection. Knowing absolutely that someone loves you freely, unconditionally and has your back gives a person confidence. So much of our relationship was formed in the unspoken moments: The space we gave each other while living together, the unique companionship of similar perspective that sometimes skips generations. The comfort in knowing we were always close even during the times I moved away. I was his companion for years. He was like a father to me in many ways. 

The last year of his life, we stopped speaking. When I called, he wouldn't put in his hearing aid. Our conversations were me yelling into the phone and him answering the questions he guessed I was asking. I always told him to call me. He never did. I stopped calling too. It was sad, but I never took it personally. I don't think he did either. I hope not. He was letting go. So was I. When I got the call at the beginning of June, I immediately knew this was it. He had been in and out of the hospital before, but this felt different. He was a fighter. He beat the odds so many times the past few years. But, it was time. I started grieving immediately. I didn't really have a choice. I couldn't stop it. I knew. 

I waited until he was somewhat conscious to fly down to see him. I went directly to the hospital with my brother. My mother had given everything she had to his care. She loved him fiercely and there was no one he was more proud of than her. As the strongest person he knew, she got the brunt of it all. Dying, I imagine, is filled with a lot of feelings that a person can't and probably doesn't want to explain. She graciously watched my daughter so I could have time with him. My cousin Yolanda had taken on the role of his companion in the last few years and she was there to greet us. I spent time both with my brother and alone with my grandfather, holding his hand through the gloves and plastic gowns, talking to him and telling him to rest when he tried to sit up and communicate. I told him I would keep coming back. I reassured him that I knew how much he loved me and reminded him that I knew that he knew how much I loved him. About an hour after I left he passed. Yolanda was by his side. 

My grandfather had always been active for a man of his age, regardless of what age he was. He fixed things and was good with his hands. He was a hard worker. He was a prankster. He loved a good joke and had a soft spot for people with good intentions. He liked to keep things simple. He was generous. He liked to make children believe they were strong and he liked to scare them a little now and then. He was one of my best friends and will never be replaced. I just love him. I am lucky to have been in his life during that last good leg of it before his health started to decline. I am lucky because I got the version of him that was the distillation of all the previous years of his experience. I got the refined mellowed aged version. Yes, like a fine wine. 

I wrote about my experience of his death because I can't sum up his life. Because, he lead his life in a way that drew people back to him in the end and he wasn't alone. Because, I imagine reading a book so specifically related to death is somewhat unusual for most people and you should know that there can be beauty in death too. He hasn't been in my dreams - I have peace with him. He hasn't "come to visit me" since he passed - he already gave me everything I need from him. Those gifts are built into my best qualities. They influence my behavior. He is a part of my experience every Sunday morning when I cook for my daughter and listen to the radio. I love my grandfather and I won't stop. I don't imagine he could either.

What I remember about my Father in Law is that he was a very intelligent man. He liked to do different projects around his home. If he could not find a part that he needed he would make it. He was very resourceful. His generation was like that. But if he needed a special tool to do the job right he would buy it and it usually was the best tool.  I admired him because he was from that generation of people who worked hard to have the things they needed in life to provide for the family. He was also very generous especially with his grandchildren. If they had a need he would provide it.  I also respected him for his service to our Country as WW2 Veteran who fought against the Nazis. He was awarded the Bronze Star for Bravery and other awards.  I believe we had a good relationship he respected me as his Son in law and in turn I respected him as a Father, I loved him and miss him. The greatest gift he has given me was his daughter Angie, my wife the love of my life. I really believe he was happy knowing that she would be in good hands.

       Thank You Jesse

What God Has Promised

God has not promised skies always blue,
Flowers-strewn pathways all oue lives through;
God has not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.
But God has promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

OBITUARY

Jesse Tarango Garcia

October 12, 1925 – June 30, 2014

Funeraria Del Angel Fresno

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