the (long) story
On this page you can read about who my dad was, what happened on The Day, why I used space to cope with his loss, and why on Earth am I using this typewriter as part of my project.
My Dad
This is Michael Turczi, my father. For the first 9 years of my life, it's safe to say I was a "daddy's girl," always by his side helping him with his projects or watching him build his models, just loving life with him. Because his life wasn't always great growing up, he wanted better for me. He wanted me to "keep learning at school, for that is very important, all thru your whole school time" (from a small note he left me because I wanted him to).
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Dad always enjoyed showing me new things and having me learn about what he was working on. No matter if it was his models, working on the tractor or his 1994 Chevy Cheyenne (still have her by the way), and whenever we would have a fire in the evening, we would stargaze. We even watched a lunar eclipse one night and learned about it together. We spent so much time together, I thought I would have a lot more than I did. However, I am incredibly thankful for the 9 years I had with him and wouldn't trade it for anything.
But this story doesn't have that happy ending:
December 29th, 2009.
Mom, Dad, and I piled into the 1997 Jeep Grand Cherokee and drove to the hospital around 4 in the morning. Dad had a surgery scheduled, something for his heart that little 9-year-old me didn't understand. What I did understand was that I had a bad feeling about the day.
Dad was prepped and ready to be wheeled back to the operating room. Mom and I waited with him until he went, and I watched him turn the corner, not knowing that was the last time I would see him.
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The doctor came to the waiting room twice. The first time to let us know that his surgery has begun and that everything was going smoothly. This eased my worry, and I'm sure mom's too. Then the next time, he brought mom into a smaller room first, then called me in after a few minutes. I'll never forget the look on my mom's face. She didn't even need to say anything - I knew what happened.
The doctor explained that after an incision was made, an undetected blood clot let loose and went to his heart, stopping it instantly. They tried everything, but nothing worked. The light from mom and I's life, gone like that.
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After That Day, I turned to the sky. Literally searching for him out there in the universe.
Why Space?
I chose space for 2 reasons. 1, my dad sparked my interest in the cosmos by showing me my first meteor shower and telling stories about seeing the Northern Lights, and 2, because it's the one thing (besides family) that helped me get through his loss. I've always thought I would find him out there somehow.
After all, "We're all made of star stuff"
- Carl Sagan
The Typewriter
This may seem like it came out of left field, but something told me "you know you have a typewriter, why not use it?" So I asked my mom to use hers (that's the only one I remembered at the time I asked her about this). A few days later she told me she found my dad's typewriter in her closet, I had completely forgotten about it.
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I think it was fate that I had this idea to use the typewriter as part of this project. It is a very physical piece that, in a way, brings my dad back to this reality. Back to the world, just for a moment, like he is writing these poems with me. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and, well, this wasn't just coincidence.