STAN STYCH: “BE NICE TO EACH OTHER.”
“Be nice to each other.” That was my father’s last message to me. He passed earlier this afternoon. 22 February 2021. He died of Covid, and a broken heart. I’m at sea, my father and I weren’t close, in many ways we never understood each other, but he was a good man, and he tried. Now all is gone. He was a kid in the 30s, a teenager during the war. In Canada. Went on to college and became an engineer. Got into sales and management, then to CEO. Had many insights on that. And he raised four kids, all of whom are good people. Loved two women, both of whom preceded him in passing. He loved to fish. He loved photography. He skied.
I guess you’d call my father one of the depression generation, before people stated this whole stupid gen whatever crap. He grew up on a Ontario family farm in the depression: They plowed using horses, heated their house with coal stoves, had an outhouse, and the only running water was a hand pump well in the back kitchen. A radio was it for entertainment. A different world from the one most people alive in the west grew up in.
Stan Stych. He lived through the 1930s depression (he only survived childhood because of penicillin,) World War Two, the Cold War*, the Sixties, and all that followed. All history now, part of the lost country. He’ll live on in my heart and my dreams so long as I live. That’s him on the left above, San Francisco behind, taken from Alcatraz. Circa 2009. My father was a complicated man, we had a complicated relationship. Life’s like that. The world is a complicated place.
I’m doing what the Stych tradition dictates, carrying the soul of the dearly departed to the next life on a sea of alcohol. A tradition that has no doubt been practised by so many families for countless generations. My father made the world a better place, I can only hope to do the same. I love you dad, I’ll miss you.
Five hundred thousand dead of Covid in the USA, I thought my dad was safe in Canada. No one is safe from Covid. It is a nightmare disease. I may take a break from blogging for a few days. Stay safe gentle reader.
Copyright © 2021 Doug Stych. All rights reserved. (Text and image.)
Doug's Darkworld 
Condolences 💐
Ella P
February 22, 2021 at 10:53 pm
I’m sorry you lost your dad. Time will heal….as it tends to do. But carry the memories, both good and bad, they will help.
Mark Hummerstone
February 22, 2021 at 11:23 pm
Our dads both came from the same Great Depression era poverty and went on to get degrees in engineering. That was the solid choice for a solid job and security that drove that generation. There was a lot to learn from people of the Great Depression. My dad could fix my shoes. I can really look back and see that generations need for structure and security. Thank you for writing about your dad. Maybe you will share some more memories with us.
Elle Smith
February 23, 2021 at 7:11 am
I asked my own dad how he felt when his dad had just died. He said “like there’s a big empty hole at the top of my family tree.” I know the feeling.
Thea T. Kelley
February 23, 2021 at 1:06 pm
XXOO
Thea T. Kelley
February 23, 2021 at 1:06 pm
During the past year, I lost my brother and two of my best friends, Jack Tanner and Stan Stych. My world is becoming strangely silent. Times shared with Stan over the years included waving to JFK in an open motorcade in Washington in1962; moose-hunting near Geraldton in northern Ontario; fishing on Georgian Bay; dinner at Ernies in San Francisco; and, in recent years, frequent lunches together in Niagara-on-the-Lake (I looked forward to resuming these before long). Your dad loved and was proud of you, Doug.
David Cottle
March 2, 2021 at 9:28 am
I’m so sorry, Doug. Losing a parent is an unmooring, and things are never quite the same after that.
zenzalei
March 8, 2021 at 4:59 pm