Life is heartache. Life is a struggle. Life is happiness and life is memories. Everyone will feel these over and over again throughout their lives. This past week, I experienced a new type of heart ache. Pain brought on by sudden tragedy is hard, and the pain of regret is hard. This past week, I lost someone very close to me, in a very tragic way.
For those of you who don't know, I grew up on a farm. And for those of you who don't know about farming, it can be very dangerous. Long hard days in the sun, with hundreds of tons of equipment being operated all day, can be extremely dangerous. Accidents can happen to anyone at any time, and this time, it happened on our farm. A dear loved one of mine was lost in an accident involving a tractor.
Mr. Richard was 69 years old when he passed. He spent 18 of those years working for my dad. I have known him my entire life. Losing him, in that way, ripped my heart out. I spent countless summer days right beside him, just listening to his crazy stories and laughing at all his jokes. I once told him that he was somewhere between a grandpa and a crazy uncle. He will forever hold a huge place in my heart and in my memories.
I know I can't tell you enough about Mr. Richard in this short article, but I want everyone to know the best things about him. Firstly, Mr. Richard would tell stories and jokes all day long. He would have a new one for me everyday, and a lot of them were about me when I was young. His jokes always made me laugh, even when they weren't that funny. Anytime there was a pause in the day, he would look at the ground for a moment, look up and point at me and say, "Hey did I ever tell you..." and sometimes he had, but I'd always say no anyway. He always made my day little bit better at times.
Mr. Richard would also be the first to tell you that he was a pain in the ass to work with at times. That man could get under people's skin better than anyone I have ever seen. But, he never was outright mean. He was genuinely kidding most of the time, and it always made me laugh to see a 69-year-old pissing off a bunch of 20 something-year-old workers.
He really could fix just about anything too. How many people do you know that are out doing one of the most physically demanding jobs at 69? He would climb onto tractors, under 18 wheelers, and get the job done. Not always in a timely manner, but that was Mr. Richard. He knew every trick of the trade. He's been working on a farm for over 40 years. Everyone from my hometown and the town next to it knows him.
I'm definitely going to miss drinking coffee early in the morning before work with him at the Thornwell warehouse. Me, my dad, Mr. Richard, and all the other farmers of Thornwell would just sit in those wooden rockers and really not talk that much. There would be a few short comments here and there, but it was usually pretty quiet until Mr. Richard would whip out one of his stories.
I'm getting pretty frustrated typing this article because I am not doing him justice, but there are so many things to say. It is impossible for me to fit even a fraction of the things I want to say in here, so I won't try. Pray for Mr. Richard's family and pray for everyone involved in the accident. We are all going through heartache right now. The hardest thing about all this for me personally is that I didn't tell him bye when I left. I left without saying goodbye. I should have hugged him and told him bye but I didn't because I was in a rush. Mr. Richard will always be remembered in the Berken family. He impacted all of us in so many ways, and I truly loved him. When I decided to write about him, I chose to go in an informal route, because I'm not writing about a formal guy, I'm writing about Mr. Richard.
