Memories of Dad

My dad was an amazing person. It's been more than a year now since we lost him, but it still just isn't the same without him. I often wish I could ask him things or tell him things. I want to share my blog with him, particularly since I've been blogging more regularly lately, but I can't. I can only imagine all the comments he would have posted, as he was great at commenting on blog posts that he read. I'm more thankful than ever for the incredible father I had.

Following are some memories from several people, family and friends, that I read at his memorial service. His brother Norm Sauke passed away from dementia and other health issues October 31, 2021, and my dad passed away December 2 of that year, following a stroke. Losing two brothers (or in my case, my uncle and my dad) so close to each other was a huge blow for our family.

I made this graphic to use at my dad's memorial.

Erv Sauke (his brother, my uncle)

Ron was a gift to everyone. He was a great brother and son to his family. He was a great big brother. As a child, he was always busy doing something and into a lot of things. All my brothers were special to me. Losing Norm and Ron within one year's time was a shock to me and still is. I was glad to know they both gave their hearts and lives to my Jesus and I will be able to see them again in heaven. I will miss Ron a lot. So pray for his family and me when you can. Sorry for not being here, my wife and I are under the weather. Ron, I will always love you.

Erv

Linda Sauke (his wife, my mom)

Ron had a great sense of humor. He was so good with children and was an outstanding teacher! He loved his students, and they loved him! They also thought it was great fun to play tricks on him! One year when he was teaching middle school in the Philippines, the kids started putting salt in his coffee when he wasn't looking. After several days of enduring this, Ron arranged a plan with the school nurse to get even with them!

When all was ready, one day during class a student messenger came to the door with a "note from the nurse," listing several students she needed to see immediately. In response to their confused expressions, he reassured them that it was probably just a simple tracheotomy. (The students on the list, of course, were the main offenders.) They nervously headed to the nurse's office on the other side of campus.

The students were even more alarmed when they arrived and saw that the nurse had prepared a humongous syringe, along with a scalpel and several other pieces of scary medical equipment to use on them! The nurse explained to them the procedures that would take place ... and watched as their horror grew!

When she could see it was enough, she calmly added, "Of course, the other option is that you could stop putting salt in Mr. Sauke's coffee!"

The students ran back to the middle school building, and Ron's class could hear them yelling all across the campus!

But they never put salt in Ron's coffee again!

Steven Sauke (his son, me)

My dad studied Spanish in school and thereafter had a tendency to apply the rules of Spanish to any foreign language that he read. One time he preached an entire sermon on "Prisceeya and Aqueeya."

One of their first priorities upon moving to Hong Kong was to study the language. The first time he gave his testimony in Cantonese, it was at a large gathering of youth. When he told about meeting his wife, everybody burst out laughing! He was very confused. After sitting down, the pastor leaned over to him and said, "That was great, right down the part where you ate your wife!" It turns out that the word for "to meet" is 識 (sic, high tone) but "to eat" is 食 (sic, low tone). He pronounced it correctly, but ended up saying something completely different because he used the wrong tone!

One of my earliest memories is being at church and walking through a sea of legs because I was so small. I found my dad and gave him a big hug around the leg. I looked up fondly and discovered it was not my dad.

As we got older, he made an effort to spend time with us, wrestle and play with us, and encourage our interests, even if we were not the softball team he once dreamed of raising. We watched videos of musicals and other movies as a family. We also attended various theatrical productions of plays, musicals, ballets and more. He put up with us listening (and singing along) to cast recordings of musicals all the time and even got to know some of them because he knew that we liked them. For Tim's 30th birthday he took us to see The Phantom of the Opera. For my 40th birthday he took us to see Come from Away. Some of the best father-son times were watching adventure movies with him, such as Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Master and Commander, Pirates of the Caribbean, and others. Once he joined the church choir, we taught him some basic skills of reading music. He studied it so intensely that it got so he could identify a note on the staff much quicker than I could. There is still a sticky note on his desk that has two staves with treble and bass clefs and the notes labeled for each clef.

My favorite April Fool's joke we played on him involved Lord of the Rings. My mom doesn't like the violence, so she hasn't watched it with us. But she does enjoy old time comedies. One time while my dad was at a meeting, my mom and I were watching I Love Lucy. As soon as we heard the garage door, we jumped up and changed the DVD to Return of the King, and I hastily fast forwarded as far as I could get in the movie. We were in the middle of the climactic battle when he entered the house. My mom was watching intently as if she was enjoying it. My dad was so excited and proud of me and he came and gave me a hug and then he went in the other room to put his stuff away. He was hoping to watch the rest of it with us, but when he got back in the room a couple minutes later, we were watching I Love Lucy again.

One way he encouraged me was to tell me regularly that I missed my calling in life. It was a different calling every time he said it. When we were younger he taught us the basics of massaging as he gave amazing massages. When I would give him a massage he thought I should be a chiropractor. When I would correct his grammar, spelling or punctuation, he thought I should be an English teacher. He was great at giving compliments and making people feel special.

Dave and Oksana Elsinger (missionaries to Ukraine who worked with my dad)

Oksana and I will remember Ron as a friend and co-laborer in the ministry to kids with disabilities in Ukraine. We remember how Ron and Linda were a great help when they served on a ministry trip with us to Lutsk and Kyiv, Ukraine several years ago. Ron was a big help and he and Linda never complained about the less-than-ideal traveling conditions we experienced. We are thankful for Ron's example of a joyful and humble servant of the Lord!

Sharon Limb (missionary to Mongolia who worked with my parents - this was a comment on my tribute to my dad shortly after losing him)

To the Sauke Family, I am saddened to hear of Ron's passing but happy for him to be well and in heaven. He was such a gracious man with a warm and welcoming smile. I was just gazing at your parent's picture on my refrigerator photo wall and thinking that I need to be in contact with Linda. Thank you for the family history and tribute. I will be praying for your family.

If you would like to watch his memorial, we streamed it so people around the world could attend virtually:

Light in the Darkness

It was just after midnight when my brother got the call from the hospital. My mom came in the room, and when she saw him on the phone at that hour of the night, she knew it couldn't be a good sign. A few minutes later, he turned the phone over to her and came and got me. My worst fears were confirmed when we got into the kitchen and he said, "Dad just died."

The hospital wondered if we would like to come see him before they moved him to the morgue. I knew I needed to go. Once my mom was done talking to them, we gathered in a hug, the three of us huddled together in grief. We got dressed and went to the hospital. One of the nurses met us at the door and escorted us up, as it was after visiting hours. He looked much more peaceful than he had a few hours previous when I had talked to him and said my good byes (but in the hopes I would be able to come back the following day to talk more, and hoping and praying he would recover against all odds). A charity had donated quilts to the hospital for patients on comfort care, which the family got to keep. We gathered around his bed. It was an important part in saying good bye, but I hadn't expected it to be so soon! He went so quickly. We took his belongings and the quilt home. The quilt is now on our couch. We would get to see him once more, a few days later at the funeral home.

The jar
(My painting Le mont Rainier is in the background.
As it was December, we had our nativity scenes up.)

As friends and family heard the news, people started sending flowers. I got a big bouquet from my team at work. It meant a lot. But the most meaningful gift for me came from my friends Kim and Jason Kotecki. I have mentioned them on my blog in the past. Jason is a masterful artist who has done many amazing paintings. One of his recent paintings is called Hope in the Darkness. It has a mason jar on the grass with fireflies inside and flying upward out of the jar. There are trees at night in the background. It is dark, but the light from the fireflies indicate hope, bright lights flying through the air and providing their own light where there isn't much. (My blanket has that painting on it as well.)

Hope in the Darkness
Jason Kotecki, 2020
Used with permission

I picked up the box from them at our door and wondered if I had ordered something from them and had forgotten about it. It was heavier than I expected. When I opened the box, I found a mason jar with rocks in it. I was confused at first, but after a bit of examination realized what it was. It had semitransparent blue river rocks with fairy lights wrapped around the rocks inside the jar. It also has an on/off switch and a battery compartment. It harkens back to his painting.

The flowers we received were very meaningful, but that jar lamp meant more to me than I can express. I use it all the time before going to bed. In a way, it's almost like my dad is there with me, shining a light into the room. I miss him.

But their kindness didn't stop there. Kim and Jason's oldest daughter Lucy makes amazing winter hats. I ordered some at an excellent price, and she outdid herself. Jason's dad Walt (a cancer survivor and an amazing person) offered to talk by phone and be a comfort. All of that meant the world to me.

Kim recently lost her dad. I pray for their family's comfort and encourage anyone who feels so inclined to join me. I'm so thankful she got to spend time in the hospital with her dad before the end. We've had so much grief and loss in the past few years. COVID, international conflicts, earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, shootings, cancer, and so much more. We all need comfort and love. The world needs more families like the Koteckis, who make an effort to reach out and offer a prayer, a hug, an ear to listen, creativity, immense talent, and so much more. Kim likes to talk about chosen family, who are not related by blood, but are as good as family. They are part of my chosen family.

There is always hope in the darkness. Even in the darkest night, there are always glimmers of light and hope if we know where to look. The Koteckis remind me to be the light for someone who needs it.

Dad

"Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle."

I'm "working through the unimaginable," to quote Hamilton.

When I was a kid living in the Philippines, my brother Tim introduced me to Broadway musicals. I particularly remember us listening to The Phantom of the Opera on repeat. Sometimes we had to take the cassettes out of the tape recorder and wind the film back into the cassette because it got tangled in the tape recorder. They played "Good Morning" from Singin' in the Rain every morning on the radio, and we taped it, along with other songs like "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie. We listened to Broadway and Christian music all the time. (My mom got tired of the screams in Phantom of the Opera.)

Through it all, my dad, an avid sports fan, who once dreamed of raising a softball team, encouraged his two sons in our love of music. Neither of us were particularly into sports as he had hoped, but he didn't press us to do something we wouldn't like. (Though we have enjoyed attending baseball games together, and Tim and I have attended a lot of rugby games since the Seattle Seawolves started a couple years ago.) My dad paid attention to our interests and encouraged them. He enjoyed Phantom and other musicals with us. We watched the classic movie musicals as a family. I lost count of how many times we watched The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, and others. Someone gave us the animated musical of Gulliver's Travels ("Aaaalll's well! It's a hap-hap-happy day!") and we watched that video many times. So many happy memories. 

Every play, musical and concert in school, my dad was there rooting us on. Tim played Captain Corcoran in HMS Pinafore in high school. I would later be in a Disney revue and Oklahoma! when I was in high school. In college, Tim was in a community theatre production of Carousel, and I would later be in South Pacific in a different community theatre group. We both were in Oliver! Tim was in a lot more community theatre shows than I was. I was also in several plays, such as Arsenic & Old Lace, The Curious Savage, You Can't Take it with You, and others. My dad cheered us on and constantly encouraged us. My parents enthusiastically joined our church choir when my brother joined, and when Tim later started directing it. I also participated.

My dad and I also enjoyed watching adventure movies together, such as Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, Master and Commander, Star Wars, and others. We enjoyed discussing them.

For Tim's 30th birthday, my parents treated us to a nearly-lifelong dream of watching The Phantom of the Opera in its national tour when it came through Seattle. Years later, on my 40th birthday, they told me I could name the musical and we would go. It took nearly a year for the right musical to come through Seattle, but we went to Come from Away as a family. We couldn't know it would be the last show we would see together as a family of four.

Last month, my dad was watching football when he had a stroke. We called 911, and he was rushed to the hospital, then transferred to another one a little further away. A week and a half ago, he was put on comfort care, and we rushed to the hospital, where Tim and I both got to talk to him individually and thank him for being a truly amazing father. The next morning, he was gone. We got the call in the middle of the night and rushed back to the hospital. He had been gone nearly an hour when we arrived.

It seems unreal. Just a month ago, he was relatively healthy. Now, he's gone. It's hard to take in. The past week and a half we have been involved in arrangements and so much other stuff involved in losing him. While I'm currently doing better than I would have expected, the grief has been up and down. I'm sure it will intensify as the burial makes it more real.

My mom commented he will have a better Christmas than we will. I rest in the assurance that he is in a better place, with no more pain, completely healed. That is a big help. But I find myself "wishing [he] were somehow here again." I regularly think of a question to ask him or want to share something with him that he would enjoy, only to realize that can't happen. As of a couple weeks ago, he was the only person I had bought Christmas presents for so far.

I remember the amazing man he was, and I think of how much I took for granted when he was with us. So many times I have heard people who have lost a loved one beg their friends to treasure their loved ones while they are here. That never really sank in for me until the past few weeks. I've always appreciated him, but I do now more than ever, and I wish I could tell him.

Several songs have resonated with me in ways they haven't in the past. Josh Groban's rendition of "To Where You Are" has helped. "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. Several hymns, such as "It Is Well" (which was written by a father who had just lost his daughters in a shipwreck). The worship song "We Will Dance". My friend Clay Crosse's rendition of "Time to Believe". "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from The Phantom of the Opera. "Bring Him Home" and "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Mis (another cast recording my brother and I played over and over in the 80s and 90s). Multiple songs from Come from Away. "Proud of Your Boy" from Aladdin. "Endless Night" and "He Lives in You" from The Lion King. "All the Wasted Time" from Parade. "It's Quiet Uptown" from Hamilton. "The Honor of Your Name" from The Civil War. Multiple others.

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive, even not knowing what was going on. You have been a major encouragement to us.