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Peter C. Young, AKA PC Young, and more recently, Pedro Pistolero completed his mission on June 1, 2009 to fight the good fight against the ravishes of the big C…Cancer.
Born in Salt Lake City, UT on September 2, 1948 to Francies and Bill Young, Pete would come to call Colorado home as a child. Raised in the Golden area, Pete attended Wheat Ridge high school, spent four years in the army and then later graduated with a degree in journalism from the University of Colorado at Boulder.
During his journey, PC navigated life with wonderment, trying new careers all along the way. Among many other endeavors, he was a dispatcher, a teacher, a police officer, a security officer, worked in construction and finally found a passion for computers in information technology.
His survivors, eldest son, Bill Young (Karen), only daughter, Sally Young (Chad) and two younger sons, Joe and Sam Young all revel in his intellect and logic. From a young age, P.C. found a strong interest in history, writing, science and Western and Native American culture. He cultivated a passion for astronomy and held a plethora of knowledge in archeology and geology. With guided tours of the famous Dina sour Ridge in the Colorado Foothills, PC would take you through millions of years of history in an afternoon and still have time to explain the facets of safety in handling firearms and the intricacies of traditional archery.
The big C…Cancer, as PC referred to it, was something to be conquered with “Hands Up! No give up!” As a philosopher and writer, Pedro Pistolero, his amusing alter ego, guided us through his beliefs of maintaining a high level of integrity while steering us along the path of his battle against the ravages of cancer. With a sense of humor weighing in and the passion to beat the broken health care system, Pedro became an advocate of fighting the good fight. His heart, overwhelmed by the love and support of family and friends, was open for all to see. And with a fighting spirit and the keen sense of recording his journey, Pedro shared with his followers, the sense that although his battle was waning, he would continue to soar into the afterlife with the same spirit and passion that made him who he was to begin with.
We love you so very much, Dad. We miss you but you are forever a part of our hearts and souls
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Curve Balls Get Hit Out of The Park Too
So often, on this journey, we are thrown the quintessential curve balls known as life. They come at different speeds and sometimes out of different directions but they get thrown and in the grand scope of things, we're expected to hit them. Now of course, we miss a few and even strike out a time or two however for the most part, the expectation is that when your thrown a curve ball, you take a swing at least. And when you swing, your not always expected to hit it out of the park, but a nice line drive every once in a while doesn't hurt.
So here's my line drive: My dad is terminally ill. It's easier to say that now than it used to be. I feel a little open and vulnerable saying it too but all the same, I strive to be a writer and an honest one at that so the words are now out there. He's terminally ill with prostate cancer and now that he's in hospice, there's not a whole lot to do but wait. Well, wait and spend all the time I can with him.
He's a complicated man in so many ways and unfortunately for my brother and I, we were robbed of really having a dad during our adolescent years. Not intentionally of course, but all the same, we didn't get the full essence. I say this only to give a glimpse of history and say nothing more about it. It doesn't matter now, and that's the point.
My dad is a courageous man in his own right. Sure he hasn't always made the best decisions but he tried. He tried all sorts of new paths in life and while my brother and I watched, he did make his mark on the world. He is a journalist graduate, a writer, a dispatcher, a police officer, a security officer, a teacher, a bow hunter, a camper, a gun enthusiast, a computer tech, a bike rider, an astronomer and an all around hiker. He attempted to fix cars and grow gardens. He erected a solar heated shed in our back yard and built a cozy dog house. He has done so much more in his lifetime of course but in the interest of getting to the point, I'll keep those to myself.
At some point, we all get here. Maybe it's watching a grandmother flail with Alzheimer's or an aunt struggle through leukemia (speaking from experience unfortunately), but we we all have to go through this in one sense or another. Dying is inevitable and unfortunately for the living, we have to manage to go on. Case in point, my wonderful boyfriend lost his father last summer, so suddenly and tragically in a motorcycle accident. He goes on. Some days are hard when he dreams about his dad or when something comes up that they used to do together. I can see his eyes glaze each time he looks at that boat in our backyard. I can't imagine what he's going through, no yet. And you know what, I don't want to. But you know what else, I have to.
My coping mechanism? Doing absolutely everything I can to just be there. I see that ball coming at me, 50 miles an hour, sometimes 90 but all the same, I see it and I just swing. I have to. I have always looked up to my dad and have always revored in his accomplishments. I'm proud of his fighting spirit and I'm more proud of the fact that whatever has, or hasn't, happened during our relationship, we are here now, getting to know one another and there's no price that can be put on that kind of love. I'm blessed too. The universe has given my father and me this opportunity and we are taking full advantage. I'm blessed more so, because no matter the circumstance, I have the best support system there is. From my wonderful boyfriend to my oldest, dearest friends to family to my work leadership; I have all sorts of people cheering for my dad, and ready to guide me through the toughest parts.
Dad's hitting it out of the park with this cancer thing so far with his fighting spirit and so I do. And although I'm not oblivious to what's in store, eventually, I know I'll swing and hit a ringer, getting through the pain of it all with a lifted head because in the end, that's what my dad would want.
So here's my line drive: My dad is terminally ill. It's easier to say that now than it used to be. I feel a little open and vulnerable saying it too but all the same, I strive to be a writer and an honest one at that so the words are now out there. He's terminally ill with prostate cancer and now that he's in hospice, there's not a whole lot to do but wait. Well, wait and spend all the time I can with him.
He's a complicated man in so many ways and unfortunately for my brother and I, we were robbed of really having a dad during our adolescent years. Not intentionally of course, but all the same, we didn't get the full essence. I say this only to give a glimpse of history and say nothing more about it. It doesn't matter now, and that's the point.
My dad is a courageous man in his own right. Sure he hasn't always made the best decisions but he tried. He tried all sorts of new paths in life and while my brother and I watched, he did make his mark on the world. He is a journalist graduate, a writer, a dispatcher, a police officer, a security officer, a teacher, a bow hunter, a camper, a gun enthusiast, a computer tech, a bike rider, an astronomer and an all around hiker. He attempted to fix cars and grow gardens. He erected a solar heated shed in our back yard and built a cozy dog house. He has done so much more in his lifetime of course but in the interest of getting to the point, I'll keep those to myself.
At some point, we all get here. Maybe it's watching a grandmother flail with Alzheimer's or an aunt struggle through leukemia (speaking from experience unfortunately), but we we all have to go through this in one sense or another. Dying is inevitable and unfortunately for the living, we have to manage to go on. Case in point, my wonderful boyfriend lost his father last summer, so suddenly and tragically in a motorcycle accident. He goes on. Some days are hard when he dreams about his dad or when something comes up that they used to do together. I can see his eyes glaze each time he looks at that boat in our backyard. I can't imagine what he's going through, no yet. And you know what, I don't want to. But you know what else, I have to.
My coping mechanism? Doing absolutely everything I can to just be there. I see that ball coming at me, 50 miles an hour, sometimes 90 but all the same, I see it and I just swing. I have to. I have always looked up to my dad and have always revored in his accomplishments. I'm proud of his fighting spirit and I'm more proud of the fact that whatever has, or hasn't, happened during our relationship, we are here now, getting to know one another and there's no price that can be put on that kind of love. I'm blessed too. The universe has given my father and me this opportunity and we are taking full advantage. I'm blessed more so, because no matter the circumstance, I have the best support system there is. From my wonderful boyfriend to my oldest, dearest friends to family to my work leadership; I have all sorts of people cheering for my dad, and ready to guide me through the toughest parts.
Dad's hitting it out of the park with this cancer thing so far with his fighting spirit and so I do. And although I'm not oblivious to what's in store, eventually, I know I'll swing and hit a ringer, getting through the pain of it all with a lifted head because in the end, that's what my dad would want.
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