Eulogy for My Beloved Son John Kelly Hendrickson 4/3/1968—9/22/2020 John Kelly loved life – for him it was meant to be “a grand adventure” – and indeed it was! From the time he was 1, crawled out of his crib, and drove his Chubby car down the deck stairs all the way to the water’s edge in Rosedale, he never looked back! When he was 6, we got him a quarter midget race car, with flames, that set the wheels in motion for his lifetime. A mini bike came next out in Taylor Bay, then his beloved dirt bike at age 15, which took him and his best buddy on the backroads of Mt Rainier to explore, camp and fish every chance they had. He also loved his sporty Ford Bronco, taking me up the logging roads of Mt. Baker to teach me to “4-wheel” drive in the snow. He so enjoyed his classic VW Camper Van that took him to many a river to fish and camp. As for cars, he had a cool white Camaro that he loved to do donuts in the vacant parking lots just to give me a thrill! He had several beautiful candy apple-red Thunderbirds, and a sleek gold Impala. When that engine exploded in his face while trying to charge it, his dad bought him a beautiful black Impala to replace it, and surprised him with it! It was such a loving gift to John Kelly – the gift that kept on giving – every time he started it up “remotely”, he’d thank his dad out loud, before he’d step into the warmed up Impala. That car was symbolic of the healed love between them. He so loved driving long-distance trucks across the country, seeing 40 states in all their wonder. He thrilled to it all, and called me often to describe the countryside and tell me of his adventures in blizzard conditions, breakdowns in the desert, and how majestic the mountain ranges were, the beauty of the high desert country, the green lushness of the southern states, the thrill of seeing national monuments like Mt. Rushmore, and the fascination with the huge market places in New York City where he delivered produce. Then in 2007, after being diagnosed with liver cancer, John Kelly decided to do his Chemo treatments in Mexico. On the days he wasn’t sick, he would explore the pyramids, the Tequila Factories, Mexico City, the beaches, go parasailing and deep sea fishing. When treatment was over, and it was in remission, John decided to travel on to South America, Ecuador calling to him, and there he reveled in the beauty of the Andes Mountains, the Pacific Ocean close by, the tropical rain forests and millions of colorful butterflies and birds. He met and married Monica Barreno, the head of the Galapagos Spanish Speaking School, and fell in love with her whole family and the friends he made while there. When he came home for a visit in 2010, his health began to fail, and it took 3 years to diagnose the problem – a parasitic invasion that nearly killed him, and destroyed his kidneys. I bought him an RV so that he could get away to the mountains – away from all the medical mayhem that surrounded him on a daily basis at home. He loved camping and fishing and exploring the great outdoors with his boy, and me and he was never so happy as when he drove off in his revered RV – in search of new vistas and adventures – with a huge grin on his face! John Kelly developed many skills and talents during his lifetime, some of them while doing time in prison for a drug-related crime as a teen. He loved to read, and be read to by me as a boy, as well as some of his favorite teachers. He earned his GED, and read voraciously, learning all he could about carpentry, welding, dry cleaning, etc., to be hired for positions in prison, and be skilled and trained for life beyond the prison walls. He discovered he loved woodworking, and enjoyed his job as lead foreman for Ayelaska Cedar Works, while in Shelton. When he got out of prison, he worked for various cabinet shops in Tacoma and Monroe, then used a small inheritance from his Uncle Thad to buy cedar and shop tools, and with the enthusiastic help from his dad, set up their own business – Norwegian Woods – to build beautiful handcrafted cedar furniture. Music was also a big part of his “grand adventure.” I gave him his first electric guitar on his 18th birthday and he taught himself to play and learned from other musicians along the way. He soon began to write his own songs and lyrics, and delighted in belting out not only hard rock songs, but also soulful ballads and blues. He had a beautiful deep, gravelly voice and thrilled us with his recordings made at such an early age. He played in prison bands, and his love for music lasted all his life. He was a shy young man but when he got in a band or Karaoke setting, he became immersed in his music and forgot all about being self-conscious! (One of my favorite memories was going to Fish Lake by Wenatchee with him and hearing him sing in the Karaoke bar one night after dinner. I secretly recorded him as he performed on stage, and when the room exploded in applause, I was so proud of him!) Some of his favorite moments were times spent with his cousins, Judi, Dan, and Jenn, and his Grampa Pulver, around guitars and holiday gatherings. And that brings up his passion for cooking and trying new dishes and concocting his own recipes! John Kelly pretty much took over my kitchen during the last 10 years he lived with me. He was a great cook and loved to shop for all the best ingredients, becoming friends with the butcher, produce guys and bakery ladies. He loved to make elaborate meals and present them beautifully – Mexican fiestas, rigatoni, beef bourguignon, salmon and steak dinners every chance he got. He would hum and sing the whole time as he took hours to prepare, serve, and clean up his culinary delights. It was his “gift,” he often said, to show his love and appreciation of me, the family and dear friends that come over. When his health declined ever further, he insisted on continuing to cook and bring pleasure to those he so loved. (He would even take dinners down to his dad, brother and sister.) Every single meal he prepared was truly a labor of love – his gift to us all. But beyond all the various adventures he sought and found along the way, from the RV to the kitchen, John was so much more than the sum of all his talents and skills. At heart, he was a very sweet and sensitive soul. He will always be remembered for his true kindness and compassion, for his unfailing generosity to those he loved, as well as strangers and those he barely knew that needed his help along the way. When his beloved Gramma Phyllis died and left each grandchild a gift of money, John Kelly was so thrilled and elated to have money to give to others! Like his Aunty “C”, he gave away everything he ever had, and enjoyed that beyond measure. He was a true giver, not only of money made himself, or money gifted to him – but he was a giver of himself – whether through his art, his writing, his music, or his cooking. He was never more happy as when he was sharing these gifts with others. In spite of John Kelly’s failing health – from cancer, parasites, kidney failure, brain surgery, heart attack, strokes and seizures – he struggled through one health crisis after another, yet always kept his zest for life and quest for new adventures. He always tried his best to be there for Yonis, to help guide him through his growing up years, and help him avoid the pitfalls of drug addiction that he had had to overcome himself as a teen. He so loved his precious boy, and loved taking him exploring, hiking, camping, fishing, building rocket kits and flying kites, teaching him to ride the gas powered scooter he had given him, taking him every year to race in miniature race cars for his birthdays —how they loved that, even getting me on the race track with them! They’d raft and boat and float in inner tubes, Yonis loving the water so much, and swimming every chance he got! John Kelly hoped to instill his love for nature in his boy, and encouraged him always to be all that he could be, to find his own passions in life just as he had, and to simply be a good, kind, caring person – that’s all he ever wanted for his son. When he lay dying in the hospital, he took my hand and said this prayer: “Lord, please watch after my mama, my rock, my best friend, the one who’s always been there for me. And please, Lord, help my son become the man I know he can be.” These were his last spoken words before going into an induced coma, from which he rallied briefly and heard my last words of love and prayers for a release from his terrible pain. An hour later he finally passed away – off to a new grand adventure with those he so loved and who had loved him unconditionally: his Gramma Phyllis, his Aunty C, his Grampa Pulver, Grand Thad and Uncle Thad, Gramma and Grampa Hendrickson; all of whom would be waiting for him with wide open arms! So God speed, my precious boys, onto your next realm of adventure, together again, and know you were loved mightily, by me and so many others, and cherished in our hearts forever! **** From Judi Cuz, All our lives, growing up, you and I always had each other’s backs. Through our adventures and shenanigans, you pushing limits and me yielding to them despite common sense, because you were so excited and just wanted to impress your older cuz! You being an only child while were kids, you always looked To Dan and I as the siblings you wished you had. You would get so excited when we got together and couldn’t wait to share your latest toys or discoveries. You were the joker, always laughing and acting goofy, just looking for our next mischievous escapade, but always so generous. As we got older, I discovered the more profound and sensitive side of you. I was in awe of your ability to be still and listen and observe. You learned so much from grandpa about fishing and life, from grandthad about working with wood and from grandma about people and the world around us. You invested the time and paid attention to the details and found what mattered and applied it. You weighed in on matters you were passionate about and silently observed others, giving way to opposing ideals. You lived the golden rule daily and found the needs of others to be your outlet for kindness and generosity. We wrote often to each other while you were away at “college “ and I was raising kids in the school of hard knocks. You finally joined the family band and between the two of us, we developed our new appreciation for lyric and harmony, you singing raspy blues and me somewhere between folk and contemporary. Our voices always created such great concert of soulful tones and mellow harmonies. I’m going to miss singing with you so much. I will forever remember belting out Queen songs in the theater during bohemian rhapsody! We didn’t care what others thought. We were so wrapped up in that moment and what a moment it was! When you passed, I went to my car and drove around, Queen blaring on my radio while I sang loud and proud envisioning you in the passenger seat singing right along with me! They say your cousin is your first true friend, the first person you learn to share with and experience society with. You were and always will be mine. The day you introduced your baby boy to me was one of the happiest I’d seen you. You were so fiercely proud and hopeful. Many occasions you and I would watch our boys form their bond as cousins just as we had, and the look of pride and immense joy on your face as our young bucks went in search of girls at the lake that 4th of July while you and I watched from the balcony is one I will never forget. Despite the unorthodox arrangement of parenthood, you found ways to give that boy more depth and experience than most parents do who spend every minute with their child. You introduced yonis to so many possibilities, challenging him and elevating him to where he could see what you could. You gave him pieces of your heart, your soul, your dreams and left room for his. You talked softly while you took his hand and let him explore with you. You two stubborn Norwegians had your battles with piercing words, but each of you knew that your love for the other was just so deep it sometimes was too painful to bear the thought of not being there for each other. Often unfiltered, words sometimes got in the way and emotions played their role. In the end, between the lines, the love you two spent years nurturing and protecting, developing and sharing with others, just couldn’t be contained in this world. Two old souls, who brought so much love and compassion into our worlds. They just couldn’t be contained in this world. Their free spirits needed more room to freely roam and enjoy and appreciate the beauty of the creators canvass. I’m grateful for the time I had with both my cuzzy and mini cuzzy. They both taught me so much. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Trees of Life; a letter from Jenn I think of you three when I walk or drive through forests of trees. They grow to provide - life, food, shelter, fuel, beauty and inspiration for music, art, poetry. They tell us when it’s cold outside or too dry. They show us change, the seasons coming. Birth, growth, renewal, death, rebirth - cycle of life in their miracles, gifts, majesty, challenges, tragedies. They show us grace in how to change, accept what comes. Much like you and Kelly, They show, don’t tell, us the example of their strength, flexibility, history, resilience, comfort, charity and certainty. They’ve done amazing things big & small - sheltering birds sharing food, building great ships and warming homes. In their utility and sacrifice - their life - their death Trees are Life - Trees are Living and Dying - Trees are Time, Trees are Us, you and your boys. I see you - as a strong, sturdy rooted tree confidently producing limbs, then adventurous branches, then smaller twigs alive with new buds. Your roots, perennially strong & storing gas, moving water, producing oxygen, giving life, and to those around you - year after year among life’s challenges and changes. Your woody trunk, stable, giving limber limbs an opportunity to grow outstretched - looking for the bright sun and cool rain, turning and dancing seeking warmth and connection to the elements bending, never breaking, even under the heaviest of snow, iciest burdens, strongest of storms. The weather fierce and formidable - yet your seemingly delicate structure never yields. Your will to bow & bend is strong, ability to withstand fierce, your desire to spread joy formidable as any blizzard or blowing. I see Kell - as an autumn tree in a season for the soul and senses - beautiful colors burning the landscape, marking the passage of time and death with grace and beauty. Life has us say goodbye to summer, slowly cooling off making way for the Fall. It’s how we make way for the beautiful harvest, never minding all the work of tilling, toiling & planting - always accepting change is coming and with it simple, small joys of sharing in the bounty around a table. Knowing the lush blanket of green holds it secrets in changes and it’s riches in golds and garnets, warm & vibrant when shared. The fruits riper, sweeter as the season goes - prepared and shared around eager and thankful tables, even fully knowing the gem colored leaves are really fragile and becoming brittle as they give up their beauty and youth. They feed, enriching us again. Even with the weight of November lingering we dress in plaid & flannel gathering around crackling fires in cozy living rooms basking in the glow and comfort as trees go bare. Crisp and cold tell us December, Winter is coming and to enjoy the brief hibernation the snow affords us before spring comes to warm the earth again and our senses. We know, as the trees do, Spring will come, resilient and reliable, bursting with new life and living when the sweet running waters flow again. I see Yonis - the young, eager tree at the beginning of the season of rebirth bright and beautiful with the cheery pink & white blossoms like hellos and waves to the warming days and sunny slopes that prepare for new life and fruit to come. With the promise of new growth, new life there has to also be rain that inevitably falls on fragile flowers that only stay a short while. April showers can be full of winds and challenge that damage but also wash clean and feed life bringing all the shades of green you can imagine, greens that don’t even have names yet. All the sins and blemishes of past winter seasons of struggle bathed until only growth remains, What really matters as time moves on, forward - What is and what is to come - the promise of beauty and bounty that spring is and cherry blossoms promise. Buds bursting briefly, beautifully peaking, bringing energy and joy to the senses while they bloomed. Fragile things for sure, tragically short lived things often bring the biggest joys because of how we are only with them a little while, never long enough, leaving us wanting & recalling the joyful memories of our time together. We want to take in their gifts and enjoy again and again the magical moments they were with us. They can’t stay - we know this - April must turn to May and May to June so we can have summer and its magic again. We can fill our noses with scented memories, our hearts with countless colors of a transitioning landscape of dark, gloomy winter stark & quiet to the sunny joys of spring, alive with song birds and their babies – starting anew in the green leaves again that show us how to graciously, beautifully they let the dead go and embrace each season, appreciating each of their gifts. Spring WILL come, then Summer then Fall again - The Tree? It will be stronger, sturdier and continue to give shelter and comfort to everything around it.