Words from Richard's Memoir
On January 16, 2013 I turned eighty-five years old, being able to spend that day with my immediate family and friends was more than I could wish for. My early life was a road less traveled, one that my children’s generation can never experience. Looking back some would say that my family was stolen from me due to the events that continued after World War II.
I am of German descent but was born in Poland, this may sound a little confusing, and it is, however you will understand how this came about after reading the pages of my memoir. I was never a Polish citizen; my parents and my grandparents were all German. I was a German living in Poland, the part of Poland that was invaded and ruled by Germany during WW II. Then later invaded by the Russians who forced the Germans out at the end of WW II. I witnessed such indescribably pain, harm, and suffering inflicted on people of varied nationalities. First, the Germans placed this violent disrespect upon the Jews and Poles and then later, the Russians retaliated. No single group of people was spared any suffering during WW II.
To share my story while I am still alive is a unique experience. My story is not one of regret, bitterness or resentment, but rather a story told out of love for my fellow man. I learned at the young age of sixteen, when taken from my mother, that life would be different for me. Different to today’s standard is how I would describe my younger years. It is to that extreme that I want my family, and future generations, to be strengthened by my story. Ironically, my childhood experience is an integral part of what has now become part of my families’ roots!
I am thankful that I was raised by a loving, gentle, kind mother and a strict, confident, proud father, because together they taught me that whatever life hands out, or what ever hand of cards you are (literally) dealt, you have no choice but to make the most of them. This theory, or belief, will become more apparent to future generations as they read my story. My children were subjected to this attitude first hand whilst growing up, yet knowing one’s roots as generations evolve can become the necessary equipment to instill courage when traveling any road, under whatever circumstance.
Some of my journey may horrify you and other parts you will find difficult to believe, but when you read of my love for family, you will know in my heart that I do not regret the early part of my life in the least, the latter part has made it all worth living, like the cherished reunions I had years ago with lost family members. Those experiences have made up for the multiple decades of years not having them in my life.
Life is not easy getting old. It’s especially hard not having the loved ones who have passed before me. I miss my wife, Barbara, immensely. She passed away in January 2010, I feel lost without her and I want to join her. That first year she was gone I continued to live in our home in Belleview, FL., with our son Michael. I experienced loneliness far beyond the tortures of labor camps. Nothing can ever replace her.
In January 2011, I ended up in ICU for a week with congestion heart failure, pneumonia and atrial fibrillation. I was hallucinating and had wandered outside at 3 a.m., it was wintertime—no shoes and jacket—but I was trying to help the Germans who were outside. Life comes back at you in the weirdest ways. My son, Michael, came to my rescue; he had no idea what was going on with his dad. Infections, like pneumonia, can play tricks on your mind. After being checked out of the hospital, I was released to a skilled nursing facility. My daughter, Heidi, wanted me to be closer to her and her husband, Mike.
I moved into a retirement community called, Stratford Court, in Palm Harbor, Florida. After daily rehab to help me walk again, I used a walker to safely get around. After spending my eighty-third birthday in the skilled nursing section, I was released to a new apartment in the Independent Living section. My conditions further declined in late 2012 and I was diagonised with Lewy Body Dementia. Little did I know the rollar coast medical ride ahead of me. My daughter help me get placed in an Assisted Living Facility on January 1, 2013. In May 2013, I ended up in Nursing Facility at Manor Care Palm Harbor. By this time, I was no longer using a walker but mostly confined to a wheel chair.
When you read my life story you will understand how obsessed I became with food, I would take it, steal it, or cook it in the camps. It was my comfort. A man will do anything if he is hungry, today I’m not hungry—I just don’t like the food at any facility I have been. I made some new friends playing poker, another obsession of mine, but when your poker-playing buddies pass away, playing cards is not much fun anymore. As much as I may be ready, and want to go, I’m writing my story as a parting gift to a family whose love I cherish, and if the days turn into weeks, or months, I will remind myself of the philosophy I have always lived by:
Make the best of whatever life throws at you!
*Written by Samantha Elphick as told to her by Richard Thoricht