John Burkard on his son, originally published February 2012

Dear Readers, this is an important message to all parents who may have children who suffer from some form of addiction. The message conveyed here is a strong one, and it comes from my heart as a saddened father. I urge every one of you fathers and mothers to never give up on your child.

Because my son Richard passed away on Jan. 6 after suffering a heart attack, I had no time to prepare my usual column. Instead I will report on the spectacular display at Raccuglia Funeral Home on Court Street and a repeat of this display at Visitation Church at the next day’s 10 a.m. funeral Mass.

I have learned a magnificent lesson as a result of his untimely demise. My wife, who is also Richard’s mom, and I were overwhelmed by the outpouring of testimony, love and affection, and admiration, for Richard that had grown over the past three to four years after a complete transformation in his self confidence.
It was standing room only at Raccuglia Funeral home when the Tabernacle people arrived Thursday evening, and it did not take very long for every chair in the funeral home to be occupied.

To fully understand this transformation, I must reveal some family history relating to Richard. In the 1970’s, my son as a youngster fell victim to the devilish scourge that afflicted Red Hook, drug addiction. This started in grade school with him using marijuana, followed by a long series of denials whenever he was confronted with evidence of his misdeeds.

These denials are a surefire symptom of any addict’s guilt, and they increase in intensity as the addiction becomes more powerful. They reach a point whereby a parent or sibling cannot trust the addicted one to speak honestly about any topic that would arise.

Strange occurrences began to appear in our home. I would find the front entrance door with markings on the lock indicating attempts to open it. I found his school hours did not jive with his real hours off. When I took him to school again to question school officials, they told me he hadn’t attended classes since school first opened for the semester and that they had been sending official notices to my home which I never received.

It certainly was time for some tough love. Tough love is a phrase coined by some which supposedly instills a better sense of responsibility. It supposedly makes the addict afraid of the consequences they may suffer as a result of their addiction. Unfortunately, tough love does none of these things. In actual fact, the only ones who suffer as a result of tough love are the parents who are determined enough to try it. The addict couldn’t care less while the parents suffer the pain of guilt for rendering this form of punishment.

I tried regular love, slightly tougher love, and really tough love until I was fearful I may inflict permanent mental or physical damage on my son Richard.
I had to discontinue this method. Each time he was punished, he would become more daring, and each time he became daring, I came down harder. It just wasn’t working. Richard was not the apple of his father’s eye during those trying times. It could be truthfully said he was a parent’s worst nightmare.

I began to give up my attempts and just accept that nothing would save Richard after all the wasted energy and failures through his childhood and teenage years into adulthood. The frustration was taking its toll on me. It was then I realized that I did not really know my own son. Oh, I certainly loved him, and surely wanted to see him live a normal life, and I would financially help him occasionally as did some of his siblings, especially his sister Lori. My biggest realization was Richard was feeling the same frustrations. He was ashamed to be a drug addict. We could have claim to the best drug rehabilitation center in New York City right here in Red Hook, and Richard would not have gone because he was too ashamed.

Then, the transformation began that would bring back my son Richard to back to myself, his mom, his sister, his brothers and the rest of society. While at the Red Hook Methadone Center he met Lorraine, a spunky girl with a childhood so miserable, one would wonder why she was still alive. She was hopelessly infected with HIV, and there was no cure in sight. Her mother was murdered while she stood and watched. Her immediate family was decimated with drug addiction and involvement in unlawful and dangerous activities. She wanted, as did Rich, to leave the methadone treatment center. They made a pact, they would live together and help each other.

Eventually we accepted them into our family, and she showed remarkable progress with her treatments. She related to me, and for the first time in her life she felt like a human being. For 12 years, when Richy showed signs of going astray, Lorraine would step in and steer him right. The same would happen if she was tempted and began to weaken. They lived in an immaculately clean apartment.

But this was not to last. Sadly, after 12 years, Lorraine succumbed to an AIDS-related illness.

This event devastated Richard, leaving him despondent. Lorraine and Richard had agreed on cremation and the urn was kept in his apartment. But that didn’t ease his pain. A friend brought him to the Gospel Tabernacle Church on Fulton Street downtown Brooklyn. It was there that my son Richard began to reenter the world once more. He met so many fine people who cared for him. The children called him Uncle Richy, and the others even sought him out for spiritual advice. He would challenge the Bible class teacher. He asked hard questions, according to the pastor of the church. But he was loved and respected, and seemed to have found a replacement for Lorraine in these wonderful, friendly, holy people.

A few months ago I asked Richard if he would help me with some necessary work around the house. I said I would compensate him since his work was slow at the time. He agreed. These past few months were truly a bonding experience for both of us. We laughed about the past, his lost childhood, and I was just amazed at this complete turnaround.

These same people from the Tabernacle Gospel Church came in droves to the wake on January 12, and testified to their love for Richard. His mother Lucille and myself, and each and every member of the family, could not have been prouder. The Mass at Visitation Church was beautifully performed. Visitation’s new Pastor Fr. Claudio Antecini, who was away on Mission in Mexico, sent a letter to be read at the service. He addressed Richard, asking him to embrace God for him and to pray for him to make him a better pastor. Then after I made some remarks, Fr. Johannes Siegert invited others who desired to say a few words.

One by one, starting with the Gospel Tabernacle Church pastor, they mounted the pulpit to express their gratitude for Richard’s presence among them these past three years and to bear witness to how much their brother Richard’s untimely loss affected them.

Parents, remember, get to know your children. Not from your viewpoint, but from your children’s. Study their personality, find out what makes them tick. The more you know them, the more you will love them and the less chance of them being caught up in some crazy fad or addiction that may be going around.

Richard truly went home to his Father. He didn’t have too much time for accomplishments, because of the difficulties in his life. But what time he did have was certainly used wisely. Happily, his family remembered Lorraine and saw fit to enclose her ashes in the coffin that they may be peacefully together until God sees fit to end our world as we know it.

I am indeed a blessed man and a lucky man who finally met my son