Dear Carolyn,
We are saddened to learn of Jack's passing and wanted to offer your and your Family our prayers and solidarity in this difficult moment.We are at your disposal for whatever is necessary. He will be sorely missed and remembered in our prayers..
Warms feelings,Helena and Sergio C. Trindade
1A Dickel Road
Scarsdale, NY 10583 USA
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Condolences from Salim Senkin
Dear Carolyn:
It was with great sadness that I learned of Jack's passing. I cannot imagine how it feels to lose a life-long husband and friend. But I can imagine it must be painful. Nevertheless, his suffering is over. I send to you and to your family my condolances on the loss of this wonderful man, whom I had the priviledge of knowing.
God bless you all.
Regards
Selim Senkan
PS: I am presently in Istanbul, Turkey attending my 87 year old mother who is not feeling well. Consequently, I will not be able to make the memorial services. However, my thoughts and prayers will be with you.
It was with great sadness that I learned of Jack's passing. I cannot imagine how it feels to lose a life-long husband and friend. But I can imagine it must be painful. Nevertheless, his suffering is over. I send to you and to your family my condolances on the loss of this wonderful man, whom I had the priviledge of knowing.
God bless you all.
Regards
Selim Senkan
PS: I am presently in Istanbul, Turkey attending my 87 year old mother who is not feeling well. Consequently, I will not be able to make the memorial services. However, my thoughts and prayers will be with you.
Condolences from Benno and Ursula Wersborg, our German friends
Dear Carolyn , dear Courtenay, dear Jonathan, and dear Megan,
We have never felt the language barrier more profoundly than in this moment, when we want to express our thoughts and feelings.
We are so very sorry and in great pain to read about Jack`s death. Though expected it is the certainty which leaves us with deep sorrow.
We will miss him deeply. For the rest of our life he will have a very special place in our hearts.
Through the blog we know that Jack was surrounded by his beloved family, who supported him in the best possible way, and that he had a peaceful transition. We are sure he is in the arms of his beloved Savior, our Lord Jesus Christ, now.
We pray for Jack and you all. Our thoughts are with you.
Love
Üsche-Ursula and Benno
We have never felt the language barrier more profoundly than in this moment, when we want to express our thoughts and feelings.
We are so very sorry and in great pain to read about Jack`s death. Though expected it is the certainty which leaves us with deep sorrow.
We will miss him deeply. For the rest of our life he will have a very special place in our hearts.
Through the blog we know that Jack was surrounded by his beloved family, who supported him in the best possible way, and that he had a peaceful transition. We are sure he is in the arms of his beloved Savior, our Lord Jesus Christ, now.
We pray for Jack and you all. Our thoughts are with you.
Love
Üsche-Ursula and Benno
Email from Anish Goel - a former student of Jack's who lives in the Washington DC area now
Dear Mrs. Howard, Courtenay, and Jonathan,
You may not remember me but I was one of Professor Howard's last students at MIT - having graduated in the spring of 2002 with a PhD that he so deftly steered me towards. I am extremely saddened to hear about Professor Howard's passing on Monday. Please allow me to offer my deepest sympathy and condolences (and those of my family - who also thought the world of him) to all of you.
Ican't imagine how difficult this time must be but I hope that happy memories of Professor Howard are seeing you through. Although I had not seen Professor Howard in a few years now, I thought about him often. To this day, I still thank Professor Howard for the incredible experience he gave me at MIT. The principles of dedication, deceny, and integrity that he embodied are ones that I try to emulate every day - though I fall far short of his legendary example. I didn't fully realize it when I graduated, but he really did teach me how to be successful in almost any pursuit - and what it really means to be successful. Perhaps no one outside my own family has had more of an influence on me than Professor Howard. Throughout my four years under his tutelage, not once did I ever see him angry or upset, and not once did he ever fail to support me in anyway -even when I made monumental mistakes (such as breaking a piece of lab equipment that cost over $15,000....it was an accident, I swear). He was nothing but kind and helpful, while encouraging and firm at the same time. I once described him as a wise Jedi master - an analogy, which, if a bit crude, I think is wonderfully appropriate. His calm and cool demeanor defined the walking authority that allowed him stay above the normal fray of the profession he spent so much time in. I am hoping very much to attend the memorial service on Wednesday but forces beyond my control may conspire against me. If I am unable to attend, please accept my deepest apologies and regrets. Even if I am not there in person, I will be thinking of him fondly.
Warm regards,
Anish Goel
You may not remember me but I was one of Professor Howard's last students at MIT - having graduated in the spring of 2002 with a PhD that he so deftly steered me towards. I am extremely saddened to hear about Professor Howard's passing on Monday. Please allow me to offer my deepest sympathy and condolences (and those of my family - who also thought the world of him) to all of you.
Ican't imagine how difficult this time must be but I hope that happy memories of Professor Howard are seeing you through. Although I had not seen Professor Howard in a few years now, I thought about him often. To this day, I still thank Professor Howard for the incredible experience he gave me at MIT. The principles of dedication, deceny, and integrity that he embodied are ones that I try to emulate every day - though I fall far short of his legendary example. I didn't fully realize it when I graduated, but he really did teach me how to be successful in almost any pursuit - and what it really means to be successful. Perhaps no one outside my own family has had more of an influence on me than Professor Howard. Throughout my four years under his tutelage, not once did I ever see him angry or upset, and not once did he ever fail to support me in anyway -even when I made monumental mistakes (such as breaking a piece of lab equipment that cost over $15,000....it was an accident, I swear). He was nothing but kind and helpful, while encouraging and firm at the same time. I once described him as a wise Jedi master - an analogy, which, if a bit crude, I think is wonderfully appropriate. His calm and cool demeanor defined the walking authority that allowed him stay above the normal fray of the profession he spent so much time in. I am hoping very much to attend the memorial service on Wednesday but forces beyond my control may conspire against me. If I am unable to attend, please accept my deepest apologies and regrets. Even if I am not there in person, I will be thinking of him fondly.
Warm regards,
Anish Goel
UPDATES on Services, July 12, 2008
UDATES
July 12, 2008
We have been extremely busy with the final details of Jack’s Memorial Service for July 16, 2008 at 10:30 AM at Park St. Church in downtown Boston across the street from the Boston Common and the Park St. Station “T” stop (Redline for those from out of town).
Following the service, we will walk to 60 State Street (before the Quincy Market area) for a reception and light lunch in The State Room (Boston University Alumni Club). It is on the 33rd Floor in Harborside 4 section of the Club. The reception is slated for 12:00-2:00 PM. Afterwards, if anyone would like to come back to our home, they are most welcomed. Our address is 24 Central St.; Winchester, MA 01890.
For our Kentucky family and friends, the Memorial service In KY for Jack will be held on Friday, September 12, 2008 at 1:00 PM at Rock Bridge Baptist Church where Jack’s family attended for many years. There will be a reception following this service but the details are not complete at this time. The date of the service will coincide with the “Branstetter” Family Reunion weekend at the Branstetter Park that Jack and I attended 2 years ago. I know many of you come from far to attend this fun day and that you have shared so closely with us this difficult journey. We wanted you to have the opportunity to be with us as we celebrate Jack’s life and the many gifts that our gracious Lord bestowed upon him and us.
Words do not express the love and gratitude we feel that each of you have expressed toward our Jack and us. He said it best: “Not many people have the opportunity to see this much beauty and majesty in their lives. I am very content. My cup runneth over”.
In lieu of flowers, we are requesting contributions can be made to the following:
Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund
MIT In-Patient Services % Kathleen Dwyer
MIT Medical Department E23
77 Massachusetts Ave.; Cambridge, MA 02139
Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund
Department of Chemical Engineering Blg. 66
% Professor Klavs Jensen
77 Massachusetts Ave.; Cambridge, MA 02139
University of Kentucky
College of Engineering %Dean Lester
251 Ralph G. Anderson Building
Lexington, KY 40506
Park Street Church
The Missionary Program
1 Park Street; Boston, MA 02108
Gratefully,
Carolyn and family
July 12, 2008
We have been extremely busy with the final details of Jack’s Memorial Service for July 16, 2008 at 10:30 AM at Park St. Church in downtown Boston across the street from the Boston Common and the Park St. Station “T” stop (Redline for those from out of town).
Following the service, we will walk to 60 State Street (before the Quincy Market area) for a reception and light lunch in The State Room (Boston University Alumni Club). It is on the 33rd Floor in Harborside 4 section of the Club. The reception is slated for 12:00-2:00 PM. Afterwards, if anyone would like to come back to our home, they are most welcomed. Our address is 24 Central St.; Winchester, MA 01890.
For our Kentucky family and friends, the Memorial service In KY for Jack will be held on Friday, September 12, 2008 at 1:00 PM at Rock Bridge Baptist Church where Jack’s family attended for many years. There will be a reception following this service but the details are not complete at this time. The date of the service will coincide with the “Branstetter” Family Reunion weekend at the Branstetter Park that Jack and I attended 2 years ago. I know many of you come from far to attend this fun day and that you have shared so closely with us this difficult journey. We wanted you to have the opportunity to be with us as we celebrate Jack’s life and the many gifts that our gracious Lord bestowed upon him and us.
Words do not express the love and gratitude we feel that each of you have expressed toward our Jack and us. He said it best: “Not many people have the opportunity to see this much beauty and majesty in their lives. I am very content. My cup runneth over”.
In lieu of flowers, we are requesting contributions can be made to the following:
Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund
MIT In-Patient Services % Kathleen Dwyer
MIT Medical Department E23
77 Massachusetts Ave.; Cambridge, MA 02139
Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund
Department of Chemical Engineering Blg. 66
% Professor Klavs Jensen
77 Massachusetts Ave.; Cambridge, MA 02139
University of Kentucky
College of Engineering %Dean Lester
251 Ralph G. Anderson Building
Lexington, KY 40506
Park Street Church
The Missionary Program
1 Park Street; Boston, MA 02108
Gratefully,
Carolyn and family
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Boston Globe Submitted Obituary for Jack written by Jonathan
On Monday, July 7, 2008, Jack B. Howard, Founder and Chairman of the Board of Nano-C, Inc. in Westwood, MA, died peacefully at MIT Medical Infirmary in Cambridge, MA after a 10-month struggle with brain cancer. He was 70 years old.
Professor Howard spent 37 years teaching in the Chemical Engineering Department at MIT, where he was also the Director of the Center for Airborne Organics. He was one of nine US scientists on a NASA board tasked to evaluate and select experiments to take place on the space shuttle. Notable awards were two honorary doctorates: Doctoris Honoris Causa, Universite'de Haute-Alsace, Mulhouse, France in 1997; and Doctor of Engineering, Colorado School of Mines, 2002. He has over 250 scientific publications and multiple patents.
Several years ago, the Boston Globe featured his work with fullerenes in a Science & Technology article entitled "Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Carbon." Also, throughout his career, the Globe contacted Prof. Howard for their "Ask The Globe" feature with inquiries ranging from the shape of candle flames to the reason Calvin, from the Calvin & Hobbes comic strip, was often depicted licking the end of a pencil before writing.
Despite these accomplishments, Prof. Howard was a profoundly patient and humble man, traits honed in his youth on his family's farm in Tompkinsville, KY. He was born in 1937 in a small farm house with a dirt floor. His favorite days were those following rainstorms, as those were the days he wouldn't have to work in the fields. For this reason, until he lost the ability to speak, he would tell his caretakers how much he loved the sound of rain.
Prof. Howard didn't take his first science class until 1956, as a freshman at the University of Kentucky. In spite of this, he excelled in chemistry and physics and was offered scholarships for graduate studies in physics at Stanford, and in fuel technology at Penn State University. Preferring to be close to home, he chose the latter. He graduated with a doctoral degree in Fuel Technology in 1965.
Prof. Howard then joined the MIT Department of Chemical Engineering as a Ford Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, teaching first-year students chemical engineering. Being unfamiliar with the material, he had to study the textbooks even harder than his students.
After marrying Carolyn Butler in 1969, the Howard family grew to include two children, Courtenay and Jonathan. Prof. Howard was careful to never let the long hours demanded by his work interfere with the time he spent with his family. Phone calls were not allowed at the dinner table and weekends were often spent walking in the Winchester Fells, where he cultivated in his children the same love for nature and discovery that he enjoyed during his childhood in Kentucky.
For 37 years, Prof. Howard's career flourished at MIT. Buoyed by the support of his brilliant students and colleagues, he received tenure and an endowed Chair. In 1995, Jack was named the first holder of the Hoyt C. Hottel Chair of Chemical Engineering. He was a world-renowned expert in many aspects of combustion engineering.
Imbued with a farmer's sense of dedication, diligence and stamina, Jack began a new endeavor following his retirement from MIT in 2002. He founded Nano-C, Inc., in Westwood, MA, a leading developer of nanostructured carbon materials, including fullerenes, single-walled carbon nanotubes (SWCNT) and their chemical derivatives.
As devoted as he was to his work and family, he was equally so to Biblical study. He attended Park Street Church in Boston every Sunday until his illness left him unable to participate in services. His ability to marry the often opposed fields of science and Christianity were a marvel to all who knew him.
He is survived by his adoring wife, two children and his daughter-in-law, Megan Coleman. He was the beloved son of Opal and the late Hugh Howard; and caring brother of four siblings, Keith Howard, Myra Bushong, Bess Abney and the late Kenny Howard.
His memorial celebration will be held at 10:30 AM on Wednesday, July 16th at Park Street Church, One Park Street, Boston, MA. Relatives and friends are invited to attend. A private burial will take place in Tompkinsville, KY.
For those who wish to make donations in lieu of flowers, they may be made to:
1. The Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund at MIT In-Patient Services, c/o Kathleen Dwyer, MIT Medical Department, 77 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, MA 02139. Monies will go towards providing end-of-life care of the quality Jack was blessed to receive.
2. The University of Kentucky, College of Engineering, 251 Ralph G. Anderson Bldg, Lexington, KY 40506. Monies will be donated to a discretionary fund to help students of need in the Department of Engineering.
3. The Missionary Program at Park Street Church, 1 Park Street, Boston, MA 02108. Monies will be used to support Park Street's missionaries.
Today and always, Jack's friends and family take great comfort that he has passed from this suffering world into Christ's loving embrace.
Professor Howard spent 37 years teaching in the Chemical Engineering Department at MIT, where he was also the Director of the Center for Airborne Organics. He was one of nine US scientists on a NASA board tasked to evaluate and select experiments to take place on the space shuttle. Notable awards were two honorary doctorates: Doctoris Honoris Causa, Universite'de Haute-Alsace, Mulhouse, France in 1997; and Doctor of Engineering, Colorado School of Mines, 2002. He has over 250 scientific publications and multiple patents.
Several years ago, the Boston Globe featured his work with fullerenes in a Science & Technology article entitled "Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Carbon." Also, throughout his career, the Globe contacted Prof. Howard for their "Ask The Globe" feature with inquiries ranging from the shape of candle flames to the reason Calvin, from the Calvin & Hobbes comic strip, was often depicted licking the end of a pencil before writing.
Despite these accomplishments, Prof. Howard was a profoundly patient and humble man, traits honed in his youth on his family's farm in Tompkinsville, KY. He was born in 1937 in a small farm house with a dirt floor. His favorite days were those following rainstorms, as those were the days he wouldn't have to work in the fields. For this reason, until he lost the ability to speak, he would tell his caretakers how much he loved the sound of rain.
Prof. Howard didn't take his first science class until 1956, as a freshman at the University of Kentucky. In spite of this, he excelled in chemistry and physics and was offered scholarships for graduate studies in physics at Stanford, and in fuel technology at Penn State University. Preferring to be close to home, he chose the latter. He graduated with a doctoral degree in Fuel Technology in 1965.
Prof. Howard then joined the MIT Department of Chemical Engineering as a Ford Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, teaching first-year students chemical engineering. Being unfamiliar with the material, he had to study the textbooks even harder than his students.
After marrying Carolyn Butler in 1969, the Howard family grew to include two children, Courtenay and Jonathan. Prof. Howard was careful to never let the long hours demanded by his work interfere with the time he spent with his family. Phone calls were not allowed at the dinner table and weekends were often spent walking in the Winchester Fells, where he cultivated in his children the same love for nature and discovery that he enjoyed during his childhood in Kentucky.
For 37 years, Prof. Howard's career flourished at MIT. Buoyed by the support of his brilliant students and colleagues, he received tenure and an endowed Chair. In 1995, Jack was named the first holder of the Hoyt C. Hottel Chair of Chemical Engineering. He was a world-renowned expert in many aspects of combustion engineering.
Imbued with a farmer's sense of dedication, diligence and stamina, Jack began a new endeavor following his retirement from MIT in 2002. He founded Nano-C, Inc., in Westwood, MA, a leading developer of nanostructured carbon materials, including fullerenes, single-walled carbon nanotubes (SWCNT) and their chemical derivatives.
As devoted as he was to his work and family, he was equally so to Biblical study. He attended Park Street Church in Boston every Sunday until his illness left him unable to participate in services. His ability to marry the often opposed fields of science and Christianity were a marvel to all who knew him.
He is survived by his adoring wife, two children and his daughter-in-law, Megan Coleman. He was the beloved son of Opal and the late Hugh Howard; and caring brother of four siblings, Keith Howard, Myra Bushong, Bess Abney and the late Kenny Howard.
His memorial celebration will be held at 10:30 AM on Wednesday, July 16th at Park Street Church, One Park Street, Boston, MA. Relatives and friends are invited to attend. A private burial will take place in Tompkinsville, KY.
For those who wish to make donations in lieu of flowers, they may be made to:
1. The Jack B. Howard Memorial Fund at MIT In-Patient Services, c/o Kathleen Dwyer, MIT Medical Department, 77 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, MA 02139. Monies will go towards providing end-of-life care of the quality Jack was blessed to receive.
2. The University of Kentucky, College of Engineering, 251 Ralph G. Anderson Bldg, Lexington, KY 40506. Monies will be donated to a discretionary fund to help students of need in the Department of Engineering.
3. The Missionary Program at Park Street Church, 1 Park Street, Boston, MA 02108. Monies will be used to support Park Street's missionaries.
Today and always, Jack's friends and family take great comfort that he has passed from this suffering world into Christ's loving embrace.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
"Bittersweet" - Jonathan's blog entry July 7, 2008
"Bittersweet"
Even until the very end, my dad appreciated all things symmetrical, orderly and mathematic. He died today at 70 years old, at 11:05 AM (1+1+5=7), on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year. Interestingly, his older brother Kenny had died at the age of 17 on July 17th, 1953. I don’t know many equations that will produce the number 7 out of 1953, but if there is one, my dad would have known it and used it in this case.
Before I got the news this morning, I was compelled by the events of the last few days to look up the letter Thomas Jefferson wrote to John Adams on the death of Adams’s wife, Abigail. Here it is:
“MONTICELLO, November 13, 1818.
The public papers, my dear friend, announce the fatal event of which your letter of October the 20th had given me ominous foreboding. Tried myself in the school of affliction, by the loss of every form of connection which can rive the human heart, I know well, and feel what you have lost, what you have suffered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine. I will not, therefore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of your grief, nor, although mingling sincerely my tears with yours, will I say a word more where words are vain, but that it is of some comfort to us both, that the term is not very distant, at which we are to deposit in the same cerement, our sorrows and suffering bodies, and to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall still love and never lose again. God bless you and support you under your heavy affliction.”
Less than two hours after I read that he was gone. That last, beautiful, gorgeous, endless run-on sentence was in my head all day, and it was much appreciated company.
Somewhere around June 25th, my dad had to be admitted to the infirmary at MIT with greatly increased weakness, anxiety and a list of physical demands that we were no longer able to meet at home. It brought him immediate relief to be in the MIT Medical Building, a few short steps from the Chemical Engineering building where he spent nearly four decades of his life - his best years - teaching, researching, experimenting and spending hours every day in the disciplined pursuit of knowledge for the benefit of others. He would be the first to tell you that he had no special gifts for math or some Newtonian genius of insight. He simply worked hard. The constant stream of visits and well-wishes from his former students and peers from all corners of the world has been an incredibly moving testament to the affect his dedication had on those around him.
He had been in a steady state of decline since some early signs of increased weakness in his ability to walk and speak in mid/late April. An MRI in June confirmed that his cancer had not only returned, but spread to the other side of his brain. The certainty of what he was facing was a relief to him, I think. Absolved of any responsibility to beat his disease for anyone else’s benefit, there was a certain clarity of purpose that colored his last couple months. He directed the same attention he had for years focused on particles of carbon towards God. He and my mom wrote a beautiful testimony that she read at Park Street Church in Boston two Sundays ago.
The last two weeks saw him steadily decline on a daily basis. Whereas the last three months were like trying to track the changes of the color of grass from summer to Autumn, the last twelve days were like watching a wildfire sweep through dry brush.
His ability to walk left him shortly after his arrival at MIT. His speech grew more labored. Many of his words became hoarse whispers that no one could understand. The last clear words he spoke to me were “I love you Jonathan, now more than ever.” He spent more and more time sleeping. We had to communicate with him by asking yes or no questions to which he could blink a response.
This last week his brother and two sisters, his niece and her son, my mom’s sister, her brother and sister-in-law and their two kids came to say their goodbyes. The warm embrace of familiar arms was welcomed by everyone. By the time everyone had left at the end of the holiday weekend, his body was simply a reflex machine, seemingly no longer driven by the conscious intent of the spirit woven into its cells. His eyes would rarely open. He would breathe a specific number of times - usually between 4 and 9 long inhales - then not breathe for a specific amount of time - usually 20 to 40 seconds, and repeat this cycle with rolex-worthy precision over and over for hours before the intervals would adjust. If he could have been witness to the rhythms of his dwindling body, the mathematician in him would have been impressed.
Meanwhile, we were all impressed by the strength of his beating heart. His pulse was so strong yesterday that the pumping of blood through this jugular vein would actually cause his head to roll slightly in rhythm. His dad lived to be 93. At 96, his mom is currently an escape hazard at her nursing home. Every organ in my dad’s body, except for one, wanted to keep going. His engine had another 25 years left on it.
His last breath was a peaceful one. There was no great spasm, gasp or any sign of struggle. Despite suffering these long months with the loss of the control of his body, his personality twisted by the side effects of his medicine, at the very end the ship that came to take him away sailed on smooth seas.
Everyone had an opportunity to tell him everything they ever wanted to, namely how much we loved him, how much he had meant in our lives, how much he had taught us, how sorry we were that he had to go through this, and most of all that it was okay for him to leave us.
For most of the past 8 years I’ve been 3000 miles from the greatest teacher and best friend I’ll ever have. We’ve had our differences which have at times distracted from the love at the essence of our relationship. The miles between Boston and Los Angeles made short work of those differences. I’d argue that distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it simply removes the varnish of petty distractions that coat the fondness that exists endlessly between us. With this in mind, my heart can barely contain the love I feel for my dad, now that the distance between us has grown so enormous that no amount of earthly travel can bring us closer.
It helps greatly to have all of you in our lives, as you’ve shown us nothing but support and love through this whole process. I look forward to sharing some stories about my dad with you soon, and to hearing the ones you might have to share with me. There are a lot of them out there.
I like to think that at this moment he is on a farm somewhere beyond our consciousness, serenaded at night by gentle rain on a tin roof, and in the morning will be working heavenly soil with his brother and his dad, a family slowly reuniting in a place more perfect than this one.
Even until the very end, my dad appreciated all things symmetrical, orderly and mathematic. He died today at 70 years old, at 11:05 AM (1+1+5=7), on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year. Interestingly, his older brother Kenny had died at the age of 17 on July 17th, 1953. I don’t know many equations that will produce the number 7 out of 1953, but if there is one, my dad would have known it and used it in this case.
Before I got the news this morning, I was compelled by the events of the last few days to look up the letter Thomas Jefferson wrote to John Adams on the death of Adams’s wife, Abigail. Here it is:
“MONTICELLO, November 13, 1818.
The public papers, my dear friend, announce the fatal event of which your letter of October the 20th had given me ominous foreboding. Tried myself in the school of affliction, by the loss of every form of connection which can rive the human heart, I know well, and feel what you have lost, what you have suffered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine. I will not, therefore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of your grief, nor, although mingling sincerely my tears with yours, will I say a word more where words are vain, but that it is of some comfort to us both, that the term is not very distant, at which we are to deposit in the same cerement, our sorrows and suffering bodies, and to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall still love and never lose again. God bless you and support you under your heavy affliction.”
Less than two hours after I read that he was gone. That last, beautiful, gorgeous, endless run-on sentence was in my head all day, and it was much appreciated company.
Somewhere around June 25th, my dad had to be admitted to the infirmary at MIT with greatly increased weakness, anxiety and a list of physical demands that we were no longer able to meet at home. It brought him immediate relief to be in the MIT Medical Building, a few short steps from the Chemical Engineering building where he spent nearly four decades of his life - his best years - teaching, researching, experimenting and spending hours every day in the disciplined pursuit of knowledge for the benefit of others. He would be the first to tell you that he had no special gifts for math or some Newtonian genius of insight. He simply worked hard. The constant stream of visits and well-wishes from his former students and peers from all corners of the world has been an incredibly moving testament to the affect his dedication had on those around him.
He had been in a steady state of decline since some early signs of increased weakness in his ability to walk and speak in mid/late April. An MRI in June confirmed that his cancer had not only returned, but spread to the other side of his brain. The certainty of what he was facing was a relief to him, I think. Absolved of any responsibility to beat his disease for anyone else’s benefit, there was a certain clarity of purpose that colored his last couple months. He directed the same attention he had for years focused on particles of carbon towards God. He and my mom wrote a beautiful testimony that she read at Park Street Church in Boston two Sundays ago.
The last two weeks saw him steadily decline on a daily basis. Whereas the last three months were like trying to track the changes of the color of grass from summer to Autumn, the last twelve days were like watching a wildfire sweep through dry brush.
His ability to walk left him shortly after his arrival at MIT. His speech grew more labored. Many of his words became hoarse whispers that no one could understand. The last clear words he spoke to me were “I love you Jonathan, now more than ever.” He spent more and more time sleeping. We had to communicate with him by asking yes or no questions to which he could blink a response.
This last week his brother and two sisters, his niece and her son, my mom’s sister, her brother and sister-in-law and their two kids came to say their goodbyes. The warm embrace of familiar arms was welcomed by everyone. By the time everyone had left at the end of the holiday weekend, his body was simply a reflex machine, seemingly no longer driven by the conscious intent of the spirit woven into its cells. His eyes would rarely open. He would breathe a specific number of times - usually between 4 and 9 long inhales - then not breathe for a specific amount of time - usually 20 to 40 seconds, and repeat this cycle with rolex-worthy precision over and over for hours before the intervals would adjust. If he could have been witness to the rhythms of his dwindling body, the mathematician in him would have been impressed.
Meanwhile, we were all impressed by the strength of his beating heart. His pulse was so strong yesterday that the pumping of blood through this jugular vein would actually cause his head to roll slightly in rhythm. His dad lived to be 93. At 96, his mom is currently an escape hazard at her nursing home. Every organ in my dad’s body, except for one, wanted to keep going. His engine had another 25 years left on it.
His last breath was a peaceful one. There was no great spasm, gasp or any sign of struggle. Despite suffering these long months with the loss of the control of his body, his personality twisted by the side effects of his medicine, at the very end the ship that came to take him away sailed on smooth seas.
Everyone had an opportunity to tell him everything they ever wanted to, namely how much we loved him, how much he had meant in our lives, how much he had taught us, how sorry we were that he had to go through this, and most of all that it was okay for him to leave us.
For most of the past 8 years I’ve been 3000 miles from the greatest teacher and best friend I’ll ever have. We’ve had our differences which have at times distracted from the love at the essence of our relationship. The miles between Boston and Los Angeles made short work of those differences. I’d argue that distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it simply removes the varnish of petty distractions that coat the fondness that exists endlessly between us. With this in mind, my heart can barely contain the love I feel for my dad, now that the distance between us has grown so enormous that no amount of earthly travel can bring us closer.
It helps greatly to have all of you in our lives, as you’ve shown us nothing but support and love through this whole process. I look forward to sharing some stories about my dad with you soon, and to hearing the ones you might have to share with me. There are a lot of them out there.
I like to think that at this moment he is on a farm somewhere beyond our consciousness, serenaded at night by gentle rain on a tin roof, and in the morning will be working heavenly soil with his brother and his dad, a family slowly reuniting in a place more perfect than this one.
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