Edit: This is taking longer than we thought, and is less of a priority right now. Sorry for any confusion. ron
Tally is working on a new list of things she needs some assistance with.
Tally REALLY appreciates the caring and support she has received to date.
You people are GREAT. THANKS.
Ron for Tally
Monday, July 7, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Obituary info
Jack R. Reynolds
May 9, 1947-June 28, 2008
After a courageous “wrestling match” with melanoma cancer for more than four years, Jack was finally “pinned” on June 28th.
He was born in Spokane, WA to Ralph and Dorothy Reynolds.
Jack graduated from North Central High School, where he was on both the football and wrestling teams. After pledging Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity at the UW, with hopes of being a nursing student, Jack later transferred to Eastern Wash. Univ., graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Education, majoring in Phys. Ed., eventually earning his M.Ed at the UW several years later.
He married Sue Dalziel in 1969, and together they had two sons, Scott and Steve. He was hired by Issaquah School District in 1969 to teach at Issaquah Middle School. He was on the teaching team for the opening of Pine Lake Middle School in 1974, and settled into Maywood Middle School in 1979 for the remainder of his career of 36 years in education.
He taught numerous subjects: Science, Math, Wood Shop, Health, and Phys. Ed., coached numerous school football, wrestling, and track middle level teams, and coached several years the girls’ volleyball teams at Liberty High School.
Jack was well known in both the softball umpires and wrestling officials communities, at the local, state, regional, and national level, having received numerous accolades for his service and officiating. His sister, Edith, and his mother, Dorothy, preceded him. He is survived by his wife, Tally, sons Steve and his wife, Kelly of North Bend, Scott and his wife, Michelle of Friday Harbor, three grandchildren, Casey, Jake, and Skylar, his niece and nephew, Shannon Siemon and Brett Holden, both of Spokane.
The Celebration of Life will be August 2nd, 10 am, at the Vasa Hall, Bellevue (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, WA 98008). Officials of wrestling and softball are asked to wear their stripes or blues, and Issaquah educators to wear their school shirts.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to Seattle-King County Humane Society (for his love of animals), First Place or Childhaven (for his love of children), or your favorite charity (for his love of life and living.)
Posted by Ron for Tally
May 9, 1947-June 28, 2008
After a courageous “wrestling match” with melanoma cancer for more than four years, Jack was finally “pinned” on June 28th.
He was born in Spokane, WA to Ralph and Dorothy Reynolds.
Jack graduated from North Central High School, where he was on both the football and wrestling teams. After pledging Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity at the UW, with hopes of being a nursing student, Jack later transferred to Eastern Wash. Univ., graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Education, majoring in Phys. Ed., eventually earning his M.Ed at the UW several years later.
He married Sue Dalziel in 1969, and together they had two sons, Scott and Steve. He was hired by Issaquah School District in 1969 to teach at Issaquah Middle School. He was on the teaching team for the opening of Pine Lake Middle School in 1974, and settled into Maywood Middle School in 1979 for the remainder of his career of 36 years in education.
He taught numerous subjects: Science, Math, Wood Shop, Health, and Phys. Ed., coached numerous school football, wrestling, and track middle level teams, and coached several years the girls’ volleyball teams at Liberty High School.
Jack was well known in both the softball umpires and wrestling officials communities, at the local, state, regional, and national level, having received numerous accolades for his service and officiating. His sister, Edith, and his mother, Dorothy, preceded him. He is survived by his wife, Tally, sons Steve and his wife, Kelly of North Bend, Scott and his wife, Michelle of Friday Harbor, three grandchildren, Casey, Jake, and Skylar, his niece and nephew, Shannon Siemon and Brett Holden, both of Spokane.
The Celebration of Life will be August 2nd, 10 am, at the Vasa Hall, Bellevue (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, WA 98008). Officials of wrestling and softball are asked to wear their stripes or blues, and Issaquah educators to wear their school shirts.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to Seattle-King County Humane Society (for his love of animals), First Place or Childhaven (for his love of children), or your favorite charity (for his love of life and living.)
Posted by Ron for Tally
Celebration of Life Information
This was in Tally's long note below, but I pulled it out for all to see:
Celebration of Life is set for Aug. 2nd, Saturday, 10 am, Vasa Park Hall, Bellevue. (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, 98008.)
I'm asking for wrestling officials to wear their stripes and softball umps their blues.
Educators can wear their school shirts. Soccer players in their uniform tops. It's Jack, folks, it would have to be informal wear........
Time for story sharing will be the center, and I'm sure there's some great stories out there.
Ron for Tally
Celebration of Life is set for Aug. 2nd, Saturday, 10 am, Vasa Park Hall, Bellevue. (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, 98008.)
I'm asking for wrestling officials to wear their stripes and softball umps their blues.
Educators can wear their school shirts. Soccer players in their uniform tops. It's Jack, folks, it would have to be informal wear........
Time for story sharing will be the center, and I'm sure there's some great stories out there.
Ron for Tally
Day 3 Update from Miss Tally
There are two parts to this update, the Celebration of Life info and then an update on me.
Even in that simple sentence, I am in tears, for I am reminded that the updates were always about Jack, not me. Another damn reminder that he is not here. And those simple reminders happen hundred of times a day, hundreds.I have two dear friends, whom I have nicknamed "My Left Brain," as they are helping with so much of "business end" of death, nudging with compassion, to get some of the immediate tasks done. Like the obit, initial service planning, cleaning Jack's study, etc. Without them, all this would have probably never been done, as it seems so overwhelming right now, to say nothing that my brain stops and starts all the time. I did it, though, I did it!
Even in that successful completion of a few jobs, I know I'll get through this all eventually. Small steps, small steps and with friends there to help.I finished the final draft of the obituary last night, resenting that (1) I was trying to capture Jack's life in about 370 words , (2) I wanted to do this back in April together, thinking WE would have time in the weeks ahead to finish it, and now I had to do it alone, and (3) I had to do it now and quickly. (I enclosed to it to Ron to add to the blog so out-of-town friends and family could see it.) The program will have more details; it will be a book" to include everything about Jack and his life.
Let me back up for one of my proverbial metaphor. I'm serious here and this is for real. A study was done to see if a person in a torrential rain storm would get wetter or not as wet if he/she walk through it verses running through it. The thought being that if you run through it, you would run into more drops. The results? You get equally wet . That's what it is like now. I had to run through getting the obit done and I really wanted to walk. I have to run through so many little things that sounded so big at the time and I wanted to set how fast it had to be done, not someone else's clock/calendar. And I am still getting wet regardless.
Aside, the biggest "run" thus far was being told that I had 24 hours to have Jack's remains removed. I was furious with someone telling me how much time I had and he wasn't even dead 15 minutes. "Can't I have some time with him" I bellowed into the phone. Oh, how I still want more time with him. I try to walk when, truthfully, I want to sprint away.
Sometimes, I have to sprint through when I want to walk. Irony is that Seattle is basking in warm sunny weather; it ain't even rainin' here. Where's a good dreary, cloudy, rainy day for getting soaked when you need one?
Celebration of Life is set for Aug. 2nd, Saturday, 10 am, Vasa Park Hall, Bellevue. (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, 98008.) I'm asking for wrestling officials to wear their stripes and softball umps their blues. Educators can wear their school shirts. Soccer players in their uniform tops. It's Jack, folks, it would have to be informal wear.
Of course, if he was there, he would be in his new black suit....that got one wearing. Time for story sharing will be the center, and I'm sure there's some great stories out there. (I was thinking yesterday of his jokes he loved to tell. I'll tell you just the beginning of one of his favorites and let's see how many of you can finish it: "There were two bulls, a young one and an old one......")
The date, location, and a very, very rough outline for the Celebration is as far as we got. Gotta catch my breath on this sprint. I was looking at the contents of the refrig this morning, trying to figure out what might sound good for breakfast. Nothing does, but I know I have to eat. I'm pretty health conscience and an athlete, so taking care of my body is important. Nothing taste good after one bite, though, but I swallow more anyway. I was thinking, standing there in front of the open refrig, that when I finally eat down all the gifts of food, the refrig will be empty. And I will have to shop for one, just me. So, was my body slowing down to give me more time before that 1st shop? And I was in tears, which is not a good way to spark an appetite, mind you.
Now, think what it would like, then, to see his toothbrush next to mine, find one of his dirty shirts in the laundry and smell him, again, to find his "Do Not Resusciate" paperwork in my purse when all I was looking for were my readers. I look for something that has nothing to do with him and he's there, some emotional reminder that he was here, and is not now. And I'm in tears.
I'm finding the days getting longer and the nights shorter. I'm not sleeping well, but that's to be expected. Right? I saved a couple of Jack's sleeping pills, cut them in half, and will use them on occasion. (Thank God for a better life through pharmacology!) Annie B has returned to the bed with me. She sleeps on his side. And for those nights that I don't sleep, there's always email to be read, and last night, I put the stack of bills to be paid.
Gads, it's the 1st of July already. Amazing the reserve of strength and stamina on 4 and 5 hours of sleep. I've worked out, hoping to get tired enough that I would collapse into bed exhausted, but I don't. I think my heart hurts too much, regardless how long I bicycle or run; I simply can't work it all out now. (Got up Sunday night at 2 am, wide awake, and thought I would work on the obit. Went in the closet to grab a bathrobe, and his was on top of mine, and as I took it to wear it, I could smell his scent. And I'm crying.)I will forever adore this man.
So, every thing I have to move, change, clean, remove seems like I'm erasing his presence in the house. There's his jello in the refrig --can't remove it yet. One cup still has the spoon he used in it. (Does jello mold? That would help in tossing it.) I finished one of his ice teas, toasting him with the last glass. I am finding that I am creating a ritual when I have to remove something and that seems to acknowledgment the moment as sacred. Last night, I erased the monthly dry-erase calendar we have in the kitchen. (It was always more for me than him.) My pen color was blue, his red, doctor app'ts in purple (the color of healing), and things that we would do together in green. I erased the ink on each day with gratitude for that day and then for the month, "Thanks, Jack for this June, our last June together." And then it was blank. For just my commitments. Just mine. And I sob.
So, how am I doing? I am OK. Not fine, not good, just OK. His illness took many things early, so it's not like I'm suddenly doing house chores, bills. I've pretty much been doing it all for a month-plus now. I already knew that, when this day would come, I could do it, so I don't resent doing it, and that is good. I cry often, missing my Jack almost with every step and breath. I know someday that there will be more and more time between the tears, but, for now, I need to walk through this, getting very wet.It's probably difficult for so many of you to do something to help. I know your intentions and your offerings. Right now, so many things involve the legal and business end of a death, which must be initiated and completed by me. I just can't hand it off to someone and ask them to do it. Oh, I so wish I could, believe you me.
Although I cannot keep up with the phone calls and emails, don't stop checking in. That is something a couple months from now to do, too. Mark your calendars, please.I am so grateful--and that word should be in capitals 5 font sizes bigger--for the support. The visitors, the calls, the emails, the cards. Know that I am storing up this love and concern for later when it gets quieter. You are shoring me up now for then. I am truly overwhelmed at the words of love for this man. I can read about two emails, sometimes one, and I am sobbing and have to stop: I can't see the screen any more. Your words capture so well what I am missing. Jack was true to himself, regardless of the setting, home, the officiating arena, meetings, classroom. So, when you write of him, I sooooooo know how right you are in your experiences with him. I'm printing your emails to be read, again, later, to treasure you as his friend and your words about my Jack.
Thanks, Jack's "peeps," thanks from my heart.
As always, to the here and now,
Tally
P.S. I have to remind myself that he died on Saturday. I'm only 3 days out from his passing. Seems more and at times, seems less. So surreal.
Even in that simple sentence, I am in tears, for I am reminded that the updates were always about Jack, not me. Another damn reminder that he is not here. And those simple reminders happen hundred of times a day, hundreds.I have two dear friends, whom I have nicknamed "My Left Brain," as they are helping with so much of "business end" of death, nudging with compassion, to get some of the immediate tasks done. Like the obit, initial service planning, cleaning Jack's study, etc. Without them, all this would have probably never been done, as it seems so overwhelming right now, to say nothing that my brain stops and starts all the time. I did it, though, I did it!
Even in that successful completion of a few jobs, I know I'll get through this all eventually. Small steps, small steps and with friends there to help.I finished the final draft of the obituary last night, resenting that (1) I was trying to capture Jack's life in about 370 words , (2) I wanted to do this back in April together, thinking WE would have time in the weeks ahead to finish it, and now I had to do it alone, and (3) I had to do it now and quickly. (I enclosed to it to Ron to add to the blog so out-of-town friends and family could see it.) The program will have more details; it will be a book" to include everything about Jack and his life.
Let me back up for one of my proverbial metaphor. I'm serious here and this is for real. A study was done to see if a person in a torrential rain storm would get wetter or not as wet if he/she walk through it verses running through it. The thought being that if you run through it, you would run into more drops. The results? You get equally wet . That's what it is like now. I had to run through getting the obit done and I really wanted to walk. I have to run through so many little things that sounded so big at the time and I wanted to set how fast it had to be done, not someone else's clock/calendar. And I am still getting wet regardless.
Aside, the biggest "run" thus far was being told that I had 24 hours to have Jack's remains removed. I was furious with someone telling me how much time I had and he wasn't even dead 15 minutes. "Can't I have some time with him" I bellowed into the phone. Oh, how I still want more time with him. I try to walk when, truthfully, I want to sprint away.
Sometimes, I have to sprint through when I want to walk. Irony is that Seattle is basking in warm sunny weather; it ain't even rainin' here. Where's a good dreary, cloudy, rainy day for getting soaked when you need one?
Celebration of Life is set for Aug. 2nd, Saturday, 10 am, Vasa Park Hall, Bellevue. (3560 W. Lk. Sammamish Pkwy. SE, Bellevue, 98008.) I'm asking for wrestling officials to wear their stripes and softball umps their blues. Educators can wear their school shirts. Soccer players in their uniform tops. It's Jack, folks, it would have to be informal wear.
Of course, if he was there, he would be in his new black suit....that got one wearing. Time for story sharing will be the center, and I'm sure there's some great stories out there. (I was thinking yesterday of his jokes he loved to tell. I'll tell you just the beginning of one of his favorites and let's see how many of you can finish it: "There were two bulls, a young one and an old one......")
The date, location, and a very, very rough outline for the Celebration is as far as we got. Gotta catch my breath on this sprint. I was looking at the contents of the refrig this morning, trying to figure out what might sound good for breakfast. Nothing does, but I know I have to eat. I'm pretty health conscience and an athlete, so taking care of my body is important. Nothing taste good after one bite, though, but I swallow more anyway. I was thinking, standing there in front of the open refrig, that when I finally eat down all the gifts of food, the refrig will be empty. And I will have to shop for one, just me. So, was my body slowing down to give me more time before that 1st shop? And I was in tears, which is not a good way to spark an appetite, mind you.
Now, think what it would like, then, to see his toothbrush next to mine, find one of his dirty shirts in the laundry and smell him, again, to find his "Do Not Resusciate" paperwork in my purse when all I was looking for were my readers. I look for something that has nothing to do with him and he's there, some emotional reminder that he was here, and is not now. And I'm in tears.
I'm finding the days getting longer and the nights shorter. I'm not sleeping well, but that's to be expected. Right? I saved a couple of Jack's sleeping pills, cut them in half, and will use them on occasion. (Thank God for a better life through pharmacology!) Annie B has returned to the bed with me. She sleeps on his side. And for those nights that I don't sleep, there's always email to be read, and last night, I put the stack of bills to be paid.
Gads, it's the 1st of July already. Amazing the reserve of strength and stamina on 4 and 5 hours of sleep. I've worked out, hoping to get tired enough that I would collapse into bed exhausted, but I don't. I think my heart hurts too much, regardless how long I bicycle or run; I simply can't work it all out now. (Got up Sunday night at 2 am, wide awake, and thought I would work on the obit. Went in the closet to grab a bathrobe, and his was on top of mine, and as I took it to wear it, I could smell his scent. And I'm crying.)I will forever adore this man.
So, every thing I have to move, change, clean, remove seems like I'm erasing his presence in the house. There's his jello in the refrig --can't remove it yet. One cup still has the spoon he used in it. (Does jello mold? That would help in tossing it.) I finished one of his ice teas, toasting him with the last glass. I am finding that I am creating a ritual when I have to remove something and that seems to acknowledgment the moment as sacred. Last night, I erased the monthly dry-erase calendar we have in the kitchen. (It was always more for me than him.) My pen color was blue, his red, doctor app'ts in purple (the color of healing), and things that we would do together in green. I erased the ink on each day with gratitude for that day and then for the month, "Thanks, Jack for this June, our last June together." And then it was blank. For just my commitments. Just mine. And I sob.
So, how am I doing? I am OK. Not fine, not good, just OK. His illness took many things early, so it's not like I'm suddenly doing house chores, bills. I've pretty much been doing it all for a month-plus now. I already knew that, when this day would come, I could do it, so I don't resent doing it, and that is good. I cry often, missing my Jack almost with every step and breath. I know someday that there will be more and more time between the tears, but, for now, I need to walk through this, getting very wet.It's probably difficult for so many of you to do something to help. I know your intentions and your offerings. Right now, so many things involve the legal and business end of a death, which must be initiated and completed by me. I just can't hand it off to someone and ask them to do it. Oh, I so wish I could, believe you me.
Although I cannot keep up with the phone calls and emails, don't stop checking in. That is something a couple months from now to do, too. Mark your calendars, please.I am so grateful--and that word should be in capitals 5 font sizes bigger--for the support. The visitors, the calls, the emails, the cards. Know that I am storing up this love and concern for later when it gets quieter. You are shoring me up now for then. I am truly overwhelmed at the words of love for this man. I can read about two emails, sometimes one, and I am sobbing and have to stop: I can't see the screen any more. Your words capture so well what I am missing. Jack was true to himself, regardless of the setting, home, the officiating arena, meetings, classroom. So, when you write of him, I sooooooo know how right you are in your experiences with him. I'm printing your emails to be read, again, later, to treasure you as his friend and your words about my Jack.
Thanks, Jack's "peeps," thanks from my heart.
As always, to the here and now,
Tally
P.S. I have to remind myself that he died on Saturday. I'm only 3 days out from his passing. Seems more and at times, seems less. So surreal.
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