15 responses to Wally B. Bogdanski

1. 

   Judy & Frank Lara says:

   December 4, 2004

   With our deepest sympathy and condolences.

   Reply
2. 

   Marjorie Biggs says:

   December 4, 2004

   Dear Rosalie, Alice, Robert and Brent:

   My sincere condolences on the loss of your father. May your memories of all your happy times with your family sustain you.

   Love, Marge

   Reply
3. 

   Teri Massick says:

   December 4, 2004

   Grandpa,

   I love you so very much and I am so glad that the words, “I Love You” were my last words that you heard from me.

   I have such fond memories…
   The day you and Grandma taught me how to tie my shoes, and the day you taught me how to whistle.

   I remember taking rides in your jeep and your big blue Ford truck – remember when you would let me shift?

   I remember when I would sit on your lap and when you would nibble on my ear. I remember when you would blow smoke rings from your cigar and let me try to catch them on my finger.

   I remember visiting you in Wrightwood, and you taking me to visit Lone Ranger.

   I remember when you used to just break out into the most beautiful a cappella versions of “Mona Lisa” or “Rosalie”. And when you would sing with Uncle Bob when he would play his guitar.

   I remember getting excited every time you were coming to visit. I especially remember when you would come and stay for Christmas. I remember the Christmas that the whole family spent at your house in Hemet, when all your kids chipped in and bought you and Grandma a trip to Hawaii!

   I remember stories you would tell of when you were a boy in Massachusetts, and the stories of when you were in the Navy.

   I remember the story you told me of the night you met Grandma. How you joked with her and she got mad at you. I remember how wonderful of a husband you were, I could tell you adored Grandma.

   I remember when you and Grandma used to make crafts, especially the Coke and Beer can hats. I remember the Coors can baseball cap you used to wear. And later in life how you always wore the red San Diego State baseball cap I gave you for Christmas, one year.

   I remember on your 89th Birthday when I drove to Hemet to bring you back to OC – how much fun we had on the drive all your stories and then I took you out to dinner – but you would never let me pay!! The next day we took you to an Angel Game to celebrate your day, then I surprised you with dinner at the only Polish restaurant in OC.

   I remember your laugh, your distinct voice, that you still even had a little accent.

   More than anything I remember proudly a strong, man of integrity and substance that I looked up to every day of my life.

   When I said, “I Love You” Thanksgiving night, I took your shoulders, looked into your eyes and you nodded with a smile.

   Thank you, Grandpa – I am a very lucky girl to have such sweet, loving memories.

   I look forward to seeing you again someday.

   Much Love ~
   Your Loving Granddaughter,
   Teri
   xoxo

   Reply
4. 

   W. Brent & Joanne Bogdanski says:

   December 4, 2004

   I thank the Lord I had a father that instilled the values, gave me the genes and helped mold me into the person I grew up to be. Thank you Dad.

   Reply
5. 

   Anonymous says:

   December 4, 2004

   Dear Rosalie and family,

   I am unable to speak on the telephone due to a continuing respiratory illness and coughing spasms. I had intended to call you and Neil this week, but have been unable to do so and wanted to express some personal thoughts to you.

   First off, please know that I am, first and foremost, deeply saddened by the loss of your father, Wally. He was a kind, hard working, and
   decent man. As I only saw him and your mother on occasion, most of our
   communications were about the family situation and superficial personal
   items, our mutual navy service, or events of the day. Sometimes, we
   talked sports – particularly golf. He was always pleasant and kept a
   level disposition which seemed to influence and to steady other family
   members. I did enjoy several rounds of golf with him through the years
   and, strangely, that is the first image that popped into my mind when I read Neil’s email message that he had passed away. Not the whole man of course, but one of the mental highlights I have of him. I recall his usually somewhat raspy voice and eastern U.S. Boston-New England I
   think? accent … which I heard every day when living and working in
   the greater New York and New England areas in the 70’s and early 80’s.
   I often thought of him when I heard certain words being uttered during
   meetings and business telephone calls. I remember him gleefully singing Polish songs on stage at your parents 50th wedding anniversary party, where that same voice came through again. I know the last few years have been very difficult for him and for all of you as well. As I had not see him for some years, perhaps I am a little blessed to have these positive and happy recollections of him come forward at this time.

   Secondly, my thoughts are also of you and of your siblings. It is so
   very difficult to have parents pass on. We are no strangers to that
   very sad event and process. Shock and despair give way to grieving and
   emptiness. That it is in the holiday season when family gatherings are the focal point just heightens this burden. When you have been the one who is the primary caregiver and the one in charge of medical and support decisions, it is the unfortunate “opportunity” for self-blame, second-guessing, and even the criticism of others, while the personal grieving is taking place.

   Prayer and religious rituals, poems, philosophical and spiritual
   reading, and the experience of others offer some relief and comfort to offset the negative aspects mentioned before. It is important, I am told, to keep as positive an outlook on life — your own life — and the world about you as you can. Step by step, call by call, letter by letter, and other connections with family and friends, all will provide paths to the point where the situation will be better balanced than now. I am reminded of counsel that goes something like: “When your own pain is close to unbearable, take your mind off of it by forcing
   yourself to focus on the pain of another person for a short, limited
   time.” I thought this was odd advice, yet I have come to understand that it is wise advice and that it works. It will, somehow, balance the internal notion of despair and negative thinking that drives deeper and deeper feelings of a depressive nature. As you are involved in a charitable organization anyway, perhaps there is a special thing you have been putting off while being your father’s caregiver that you can
   now complete that is over and above what you usually do. I am told that
   if you do that but don’t tell anyone about it … that is, do it
   anonymously … it works in a miraculous and almost self-serving way in return. Not in and of the exact, immediate moment, but it works. I am told it works because one can “actualize” intentions that have to do with being completely outside yourself in the charitable act in a completely selfless manner, expecting nothing, particularly recognition, in return.

   So there are some things you can do of personal benefit and healing in
   addition to all the very painful details one must

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