Michael R Dornbush

Michael R Dornbush (76) of Las Vegas Nevada passed away on December 7th, 2020 due to complications related to Covid-19. Michael struggled through the years with health problems from his heart and arteries. Michael was born in Muskegon, Michigan in May 1944 he was the eldest of four boys. Michael was preceded in death by his parents Russell and Nadia Dornbush, and brothers Steven and Gerry Dornbush. He is survived by his loving wife of 41 years Linda Dornbush who he met and wed in Fresno California and their two children Brian Dornbush and daughter Stacy Kreikemeier (husband James) and two granddaughters Josie and Gracie Kreikemeier. Grandpa loved his grandbabies so much. Michael is also survived by brother Russell Dornbush, sister-in-law Julie Dornbush and many nephews and nieces. From a previous marriage, son Michael Dornbush (wife Carol) grandson Michael and many great-grandchildren.

Michael was always proud that at age 14 he was awarded the Expert Rifleman Medal, second highest award in American Junior Shooting. Michael graduated high school from Muskegon Senior High School in 1962 and attended Muskegon Community College as a pre-med student. He had wanted to be a doctor, but fate stepped in when his father had a heart attack and he had to help the family relocate to Palm Desert California. He was drafted into the Army in 1969 due to the Vietnam war. He used to say how in basic training he was supposed to be trained to use artillery equipment but when his group went in to train he would skip over to the group that was just leaving and never learned what he was supposed to. So, when he was on the plane headed to Fairbanks Alaska someone had asked if anyone knew how to type and he raised his hand as fast as he could. He said he ended up with a cushion job as the Commanders typist typing and cutting orders for everything. Upon completion of his military service Michael began his lifelong career with the United States Postal Service where he served 38 years. He started his career as a carrier in Palm Springs California delivering mail to Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra and many stars, working his way up to first District Manager for Las Vegas District during the 1993 USPS reorganization and retired there in 2003. Throughout his career he never forgot where he came from. Often saying some of his best years were delivering mail. He cared about his people and respected them. He always tried to put people first and above the bottom line often getting himself in the hot seat. But that’s how he was, people and his team first.

During his retirement he enjoyed reading, he was an avid reader. He would sit for hours reading. However, it became very difficult for him after cataract surgery went bad and affected his vision and it became difficult for him to focus and read. He would instead watch old westerns, and old movies which he had memorized. All the while muting the TV or using the remote to slowly switch channels driving everyone crazy because Dad was in control of the remote.

Michael was the kindest most loving husband and father who loved his family and his granddaughters more than anything in the world. He always had a doom and gloom look on his face, but that wasn’t the Mike we knew. Someone could say something and before you knew it Mike would have this uncontrollable contagious silent laugh with tears streaming down his face. He was such a good person. He would help anyone, family, friend, strangers. Our hearts are broken, he will be forever missed.

Mike always told the kids, life is about choices, there are good choices and there are bad choices, my job is to guide you to make the right choice but ultimately the choice is yours. The children heard this over and over and have this memorized by heart.

Michaels wishes were to be cremated with no burial services. We love you and will always miss you.

December 17, 1998, I had showered and dressed myself for school. A senior in high school, as I came downstairs to grab some breakfast and gather my things I crossed paths with my dad. While on his way out the door at 630am, this morning he had abruptly stopped right in middle of the doorway leading out of the kitchen. Without hesitation, my father looked back, turned towards me and said, “Happy birthday. Don’t forget you can be tried as an adult today”, then again without hesitation, turned once more and continued his way out the door to work.

That was my dad.

In December of 1968, Frank Sinatra recorded a song entitled “My Way.” The title of that song would be the substance and motif for how my father reveled, valued, and enjoyed doing things and sharing his life. Whether it was surprising my mom by traveling across the country for her birthday, a vacation to Hawaii, Sunday afternoon baseball games, or shocking my sister and I with Christmas gifts we didn’t deserve. He always did it for us. He did it his way.

My dad was business. He supervised and managed fairly, level-headed, and was empathetic to the situations of those that worked for him. Far from bankers hours, he was out the door religiously at 630a.m. each morning, and wouldn’t return home until 530p.m., Monday thru Friday. He did everything possible and within his power to constantly and consistently better himself and his family. More-so, and even more importantly, he NEVER forgot where he came from.

For the 40 years that I've been blessed to call him my father, he always spoke to me with such a command presence and in a way that was very evangelizing whenever I found myself in trouble or needing some help and advice with a situation. Much like a broken record, but with a clear yet stern delivery he would look at me and say, “Life is about choices. You make good choices and you make bad choices, but they are YOUR choices. The goal at the end of your life is to have made more good ones than bad ones.”

To quote the great Frank Sinatra;

"And now, the end is near

And so I face the final curtain

My friend, I'll say it clear

I'll state my case, of which I'm certain

I've lived a life that's full

I traveled each and every highway

And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Regrets, I've had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption

I planned each charted course

Each careful step along the byway

And more, much more than this, I did it my way.."

Yes you did Dad...Yes you did. ❤️