Oh, people, it hurts like hell to say this.
My father, Richard Edward Porubcansky, died peacefully and unexpectedly overnight between June 5 and 6, 2016.
If you didn't know him, then look at me. I am every inch my father's son, and I am so proud and heartbroken. If you did know him, then please mourn with me.
Dad taught me so much: how to be a citizen and caretaker, how to listen to my own voice and learn to be myself, how to be goofy, how to throw things. How to shave, how to tie a tie, how to make sure your friends and family are going to be okay.
He also taught me the cost of living for duty. Friends, don't do this. Remember that every person is a human, not a superman or superwoman, yourself included. Remember that you'll need help in life, and especially if you are inclined to go it alone, heed my words right now: ask for help, then accept that help. Dad didn't do enough of that in his quest to shield other people from trouble and pain. He was noble, but he took on too much and it weighed on him terribly.
Despite the weight he chose to carry, my dad has been a surpassing father, a caring friend, and so much fun. The word that people have been saying to me is "hero" and while I know that word is for people who fly around doing impossible things, damn if hearing them say that doesn't make my heart ache with pride and loss.
Please share stories of my dad in the comments, if you have them.
Rest, Dad. You're supported by the love of so many people, and I'm proud to be one of them. I love you, always.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder
Of every glove that laid him out
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame:
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains.
- "The Boxer"
written by Paul Simon