Gone Ten Years
by Ann Lindaman
May 12, 1922 – March 3, 2002 Dr. William Ralph Gonda May 12, 1922 – March 3, 2002
Gone but not forgotten.
My Dad: Dr William R Gonda. I’ve missed him for a very long time but it seems as though the last few weeks leading up to the tenth anniversary of his death has hit me like a ton of bricks. I’ve had a wide variety of emotions, one of which is that old demon; guilt! I know deep down that I have nothing to feel guilty about but still it plagues me. I have written many tributes about people that I have loved and lost throughout the years and given them a special place on my web page where I leave most of my heart and soul exposed, but I have not been able to write a thing about my Dad and that really bothers the writer within. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve started so many times but nothing flows from my brain to my fingertips. The missing piece is probably my guarded heart. It needs to flow from my heart, to my brain and then my fingertips. Trouble is, my heart is protecting me from what has the potential to be a great story. I’m not really sure why. Perhaps I’m afraid that the words might sound angry or sad and that’s the last thing I would want Yes, I had many disappointments where my Dad was concerned but before he passed, he asked for my forgiveness and I gave it to him whole heartedly. It’s not that I haven’t forgiven him but I suppose there’s really no way to forget, is there?
As you may have guessed, or perhaps you have firsthand knowledge; life with my Dad wasn’t always easy. As a matter of fact, it was rarely easy. When asked about my childhood, I tell people that I wasn’t raised by Ozzy and Harriet and we don’t have any Norman Rockwell portraits depicting our family. That’s true of many families of course and I know I’m not alone with childhood disappointments. But I truly don’t want to remember those. I want to remember a good and decent man who suffered great health obstacles and did his best to overcome his daily suffering. A man who fought during WWII then studied and became a first class physician. I may have to face the fact that creating a tribute for someone isn’t always a chicken soup story. On the other hand, to bring up any of those disappointments would serve no purpose either. He’s gone and nothing can change the past. The only thing that I can change is my perspective and how I choose to remember him. Which brings me back to the beginning again. I have forgiven him. I know that he did the best that he could. And he deserves a page in history. Ok maybe only my history but if you’re reading this, then it now becomes your history as well. Thank you for that.
So I’m going to paint you a picture of a man who was extremely generous and intelligent. He would give a stranger the shirt off of his back if he thought they needed it. I’m going to tell you about a man who was extremely intelligent; he had a genius IQ, was the top of his class and was a dedicated and highly thought of physician. He loved his profession, he was always seeking knowledge and was always willing to listen to a person’s medical issues whether he was being paid or not. He had a gift and he used it to the best of his ability and beyond. If he didn’t know, he’d research it until he could get the answer. I don’t think he ever saw himself that way though. He thought of himself as somewhat of a failure because he didn’t acquire great wealth during his career. He did have a bit of wanderlust in his soul. I don’t think he lived anywhere for more than five or six years at a time. I’m not sure why, but I can tell you that every where my Dad had lived and practiced medicine, he left people that admired him greatly. And he always loved the places he lived. He left a part of him wherever he roamed.
I can also tell you that he had a very special talent of photography. He won awards with some of the photos that he took with his beloved Leica. He loved that camera so much that even towards the end of his life, when he was suffering greatly with kidney failure and dementia, he could remember the name of the man who sold him that camera twenty-five years earlier!
And he loved gadgets! Oh how he loved anything electronic. He’d see something new in the stores, in a magazine or on the Internet, I can still hear him ask, “oh, can I have it Phyll”? Phyllis was my stepmother who deserves a place with the saints. She loved my Dad so much; sometimes at her own detriment. Through all the years they were together, I only saw her angry with him once. She was so patient and seemed to understand him like no other could. She’s been gone a little over 3 years but I’m at peace knowing that they’re together again; neither of them in pain or suffering as they did. She spent seven years waiting to be with him again, she said so very often.
My Dad was the father of two daughters, adopted daughters, a fact of which he was very proud. He called us his chosen ones. He had four grandchildren and now has 8 great-grandchildren of which he was only able to meet the two oldest. Although he divorced my Mom when I was six and my sister (Carmen) was two, he remarried and was married to our stepmother, Phyllis for 34 years at the time of his death on March 3, 2002. I know that when we’re all together, he’s with us and very proud of the legacy he left behind. He lived, he gave of himself to a lot of people, and he left generations to carry on in his memory. Carmen and I may not share his DNA but he was our Dad. William R Gonda was our Dad and he loved us and in the end, that’s really all that matters.
The rest of it may one day come in the form of a great story but the names will be changed because this is how I want my Dad remembered. It’s all true; I haven’t made him up but I have left so much out. But today we celebrate what was so good in him. We celebrate the tenth anniversary of a life he left behind.
