My dad always said “People live between two phone calls. One we get to notify us that someone is born. Another we get to notify us that someone has passed.” But what happens when two police officers are standing at your door with their hands held behind their backs asking to come inside.
You ask why and in return, they tell you it is about your dad. They ask if your mom is home. She is. You call to her and ask her to come to the door. When she does, the officers again ask to come inside. Your mom presses them further on their reasons for wanting to enter. They deliver the news.
My dad, Gennady “Gino” Chernobylsky, passed away this Friday during his trip to Mammoth due to pulmonary edema, a condition where fluids builds up in the lungs due to high elevation pressure and which, ultimately resulted in my father’s respiratory failure. He was on his last ski run down to return home to his family—to my mom and me.
The moment the two police officers finished their story is the exact moment I understood that nothing would ever be the same in my life and in my mom’s. We were three. Now we are only two.
I wish this were a dream—a horrible, nerve-rattling nightmare of a dream—but it isn’t. It is real life.
This is why I am writing to ask for any assistance to help my mom and I cover the costs for my father’s funeral, transportation services from Bishop Mortuary, memorial services and burial services. Any amount would help immensely.
Please visit the link to my father’s Memorial Fund. You can leave a comment with your donation; it would provide a great support for our family. David.
Although my father passed away at the age of 58, he was able to infuse into me (throughout all of my 21 years) and into everyone he met throughout his life, the notion that life is absolutely beautiful and that each moment is a treasure to be guarded. His belief in his Judaism was as strong as his belief in the wonders of the world. He had an unparalleled way of inspiring everyone around him. I want to focus on the powerful memories of his life rather than the loss of his life, because to him his family and friends were his life and his happiness.
My Father lived his life with the awareness that each moment is precious and should not be taken for granted. He instilled this belief in me and gave hope in the beauty of life to everyone he came into contact with. I will never forget what I kept telling my dad: “Life is a Journey and you are the adventure.”
I Love You, Papa.