William J. Bader

One of the tough things in life is facing the mortality of a loved one. We have been doing just that as my father battled MDS for the last 4-1/2 years. We watched him accept and fight the disease with spirit and faith. He never asked "why me?" He only chose to fight. We were very fortunate to have compassionate, professional care at the Cleveland Clinic and the IU Simon Cancer Center. I can't begin to name you all but you know who you are and we are eternally grateful for your gentle love, care and support.

But here I am. Writing the document I never wanted to write. My father lost the battle but won the war. Yes, he is gone. He died peacefully on Aug. 18, 2012. He won the war because he fought the battle his way and didn't waste a day of the last four years. He took nothing for granted. Yes, I preserved it all on film for family that couldn't be with us. If you could flip through the photos you would be exhausted and inspired. None of us are promised tomorrow. My father would love it if you did two things this week: One, "Remember, it's later than you think" do something you have always wanted to do. Two, register at www.bethematch.com

So what can I tell you about my father's life? He was born into a large and loving family in Cleveland, Ohio. He regaled us with stories that would make a mother's hair curl. Three years ago, during one of our visits to the old neighborhood, we shared those stories with the current home owner. I doubt he will ever look at the old coal shoot the same way again. My father loved anything to do with flying. That love began when he was able to ride a bike. His mother thought he was riding in the neighborhood. Truth be told he had been riding all the way to the airport. He would do anything for a mechanic or pilot, no job was too small or to dirty. Eventually their "payment" was a ride. As you've probably guessed, one day he and a pilot buzzed the house and the jig was up. He soon found out that he came by his love of flying naturally. As a babe in arms, his parents had taken him to the airport so they could see Lindbergh land. His mother abandoned him to his father, fought her way through the crowd and laid her hand on the wing of the Spirit of St. Louis. This was after promising her husband that they would not brave the crowds but watch from afar. She would speak of that day for many years and my father joked that his fate was sealed that day. But all little boys grow up.

My father joined the Army Air Corps at 18 and was an engineer flight instructor on B-17s. After the war he worked for the Dobeckman Company. The real perk with that job came when Eleanor Dirking introduced him to a beautiful redhead at lunch one day, Margie Nestor, and they were married six months later. They had five children: Patricia Bader, Kathleen Bader, Joe (Elena Garcia) Bader, Bill (Joy) Bader, and Marnie Bader. It was a terrible blow when Mom died in 1966 but Pop hung in through trying times. In 1968 he met and married his devoted wife, Joyce Noeske Bader. He welcomed into his heart her three children: Todd (Claudine) Noeske, Tim Noeske and Nancy Bonham. My father was blessed with grandchildren: Mark, Brett, Allison, Bill, Meghan, Ryan, Nick, Kellie, Jonathan, Alex and Mike. I hope they know how much he loved them and what joy they brought him.

I could go on about what my father did. I suppose I could tell you without emotion, details, names, dates and facts. I choose not to. To me, obituaries miss much and the very essence of the person is lost. What I want you to know, what no by-the-book obituary can capture, is the extraordinary generosity and kindness that was my father's life. I would rather you know that my father had an extraordinary gift for connecting with people on a personal level, without effort and often within moments of meeting you. My friends said he had charisma, a smile that could hypnotize you, a spirit that shown in his eyes and a heart as big a Texas. My father entered this world full of life and light and love. I can assure you he left it the same way. He fought MDS with immense bravery and courage. I never heard him complain. No matter how you met my father, we hope you will join us for visitation, services and celebration.

While I said there were too many special people to note, I simply must acknowledge some: We are forever grateful to the remarkable members of the Bone Marrow Clinic at IUPU and the clinic staff at the IU Simon Cancer Center: you are truly amazing people and we will be forever grateful for your love and care. As for Ricki Englehaup, Stephanie Downton, Jeff Woods, Stacy McCord, Jerald Briggs, Vicki Goyer, John Skidmore, Moira Romine, John Clark, Jim Wright and Karen and Randy Hamilton, please don't say "it was nothing" because your love and support meant the world to us.

Visitation: Family will receive friends at the Ware-Smith-Woolever Funeral Home, 1200 W. Wheeler St., on Tuesday, Aug. 21, 2012, from 2-4 and 6-8 p.m., and on Wednesday, August 22, 2012 (before services) from 9:30-10:30. There is no visitation at the church.

Funeral Liturgy: 11 a.m. at St. Brigid of Kildare Catholic Church, 207 Ashman St. Father Patrick O'Connor will celebrate Mass, with graveside burial rites in Old Calvary Cemetery. Military Honors will be presented by the Midland Area Veterans, and the U.S. Army.

Celebration: Please join us after the church service to celebrate my father's life. The location will be announced at visitation and the service.

Memorials: In memory of my father, donations may be made to Creating Hope, a truly remarkable non-profit program begun by Jeanette Gianfagna Shamblen. Continued in her memory by her parents, Tina and John, the art program inspires cancer patients to lose themselves in painting. I can't put into words the changes I have witnessed in patients involved with this program. Donations may be made on-line at www.creatinghope.us or mailed to 13897 Rue Royal Lane, McCordsville, IN 46055.