Friends: My father, David Charles Virrill, died yesterday at Westchester Medical Center. He had gone in last week for heart surgery, elective surgery at that, said to "prolong life". He embraced that option, and got through the operation, and several days of recovery, splendidly. He was talking with Mom yesterday in his room. He excused her to pee into some hand-held thing, and suffered what appeared to be massive cardiac arrest. Pending revision by the family, his last words, as heard by Mom, were "God damn it! Can't pee!" That sounds about right. Dad had just turned 81. As the recently-taken pictures show, he enjoyed his life all the way, right through playing with his granddaughter Cameron. He'd waited 50 years to meet her and didn't waste a minute. Per his wishes, which he was never shy about expressing, there will be no service, at least not in a church or funeral home. Truth is, we have no idea yet about a memorial, but we'll let you know. We trust that those of you who knew and enjoyed him will continue to do so in memory. Dad will be cremated and Melissa and I plan on keeping some of his ashes on our mantle, next to the vampire-bat fishing lure he gave us. Why not? Decades ago, Dad wrote me a post card when he and Mom were vacationing in England. The picture was an aerial view of an estate. Dear Dave: Love you too, Dad. Dave |
November 4, 2009
