There Are No Goodbyes

Robert Joseph Kessel, 80, my husband of almost 52 years, passed away March 1 leaving me reeling with sorrow and loneliness.

He left me to go to his Heavenly home. Bob, of Catholic German-Irish ancestry, took Extreme Unction and made his confession to a Catholic priest. It was his request to have a private, dignified funeral attended by those who were loyal friends to the end. Very Reverend Father Abraham Ohanesian, a longtime friend, performed his Armenian Orthodox funeral. He was assisted by Ken Khezarjian of the Simon Javizian home in Pleasant Ridge.

It is of great solace to the loved ones he left behind to know he can now breathe freely, and is pain free. He can now fish all he wants.

Bob was born in Pontiac’s West side, called Indian Village. His father was a Pontiac Motor metallurgist, his mom a homemaker.

According to him, his mother made the best lemon meringue pie. I deferred to Marguerite on that one item.

From early childhood the family spent summers at their cottage in Attica on Elk Lake. His memories of sun-filled days of fishing and swimming led to our return visits there every year to reminisce. Bob attended Pontiac Senior High School before entering the army. He served two years in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, fortunately stationed in La Rochelle, France, building permanent housing for soldiers.

The metro Detroit community knew Bob well as the quiet man who attended Armenian functions regularly. Every year on April 24, he and I would travel to the Martyrs’ Monument in Detroit to place a dozen roses at its base in memory of my fallen grandparents and the other Martyrs. They referred to him as “ABC,” Armenian by Choice.

He learned Armenian history from his father-in-law, my dad, Mamigon Apigian. He respected his in-laws and they in turn loved Bob for his quiet manner and how he fit into the family.

An American Legion Honor Guard stood poised to meet Robert’s flag-draped casket as mourners filed into the committal shelter at the Great Lakes National Cemetery in Holly, Mich. Honor Guards stood on each side of his bier as three volleys were fired in his honor by the Davison based American Legion.

The folding of the American flag is a touching part of the soldier’s funeral service. The flag and the shells are then presented to the serviceman’s widow.

“Taps” were played and mourners were all visibly moved.

Soil from Armenia in the shape of the cross was sprinkled on the casket and blessed. The “Armenian by Choice” was taken to his final resting place where soon a white marble cross will bear his name and the inscription, “Beloved Husband, Father, and Grandfather.”

We had visited the National Great Lakes Cemetery for the first time last year and found it to be a very impressive place of beauty and serenity. Both of us are patriotic Americans and were in awe of the entrance to the grounds. Both sides of the drive were filled with American flags. What a glorious sight it was to see the symbol of freedom and democracy greeting you as the flags waved in the breeze. Here there is uniformity, a beautiful lake, green flowing hills, and quiet, very quiet. You are struck by the vastness. The white marble crosses are symbols of devotion to country.

Bob and I decided this is where his remains would be put to rest while his beautiful soul would belong to God. The smile on his face and the confirmation of our love for each other sealed our decision, but I did not expect him to suddenly die.

I went from my parents’ home directly into a marriage of 52 years. The only time Bob and I were without each other is when I made a two-week trip to Ireland with a real estate girlfriend who was a Dubliner. I wanted Bob and I to make that trip together.

It was fitting that Bob was laid to rest with those who served their country, like fellow serviceman Merlin Sina and Larry Pfeffer, a childhood friend.

Well-meaning friends tell me I am a strong woman made of steel, who should move forward with my head held high, that I am needed to continue writing my Armenian Weekly column in dedication of our martyrs, that I still have much to live for. I know they love and care about me, but I still cry. Who will share a $5 dollar pizza while parked in Birmingham, who will walk with me in Shane Park, who will take me to the farmer’s market and my greenhouses?

Who was there nursing me emotionally through cancer scares, through fire bombings of our party store, through the fire that destroyed our beautiful apartment, and the one that years later destroyed the guts of our place of business? Who got up from the floor after being shot in the chest defying the criminal element trying to keep us out of business? Who ran a 15-hour 7 day a week business for 18 years?

So, Lucine, Jack, Edward, Mary Jo, Nanore, Khatchig, Karin, Sally, I remain vigilant in your advice to push forward; after all, I can’t allow my steel frame to get rusty. Bob was my Number One fan in my writing endeavors. He loved the Armenian Weekly and was proud of my column and encouraged me to be a strong, vocal Armenian.

His Hokejash was a celebration of his life. Everyone present sated on wine and a fine meal. Each one spoke of the Bob they knew.

As the Rod Stewart song refrains, “Times when you’re going to be lonely, times when you’re going to be sad, don’t let the blues make you bad. Remember somewhere, someday, we’ll spend a lifetime together for parting is not goodbye.” It is “Tsedesoutioun.

In a flicker of the eye 52 years scurried by.

I’d like to thank Simon Javizian and Associates for making the sadness of this occasion bearable. In lieu of flowers was to the Armenian Tree Project.

Pesa, amousin, vosgorneret hankeesd ellan. May you rest in peace forever.

Betty Apigian-Kessel

Betty Apigian-Kessel

Betty (Serpouhie) Apigian Kessel was born in Pontiac, Mich. Together with her husband, Robert Kessel, she was the proprietor of Woodward Market in Pontiac and has two sons, Bradley and Brant Kessel. She belonged to the St. Sarkis Ladies Guild for 12 years, serving as secretary for many of those years. During the aftermath of the earthquake in Armenia in 1988, the Detroit community selected her to be the English-language secretary and she happily dedicated her efforts to help the earthquake victims. She has a column in the Armenian Weekly entitled “Michigan High Beat.”

3 Comments

  1. Bob was a real gentleman and we were proud to have him in our family. Our hearts go out to you – our thoughts and prayers are with you at this very sad time.

  2. Betty, I just learned of Bob’s passing last week. I’m so sorry for your loss…may he rest in peace and may you find strength in the memories of your many, many years together. I miss you both. Drew at the Petoskey Library.

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