Father's Day is a bittersweet time in our house. Although my dad is still alive and kicking at 82, hubs lost his dad (Jerry) a little over 4 years ago quite suddenly and most unexpectedly in his early 60's. It is hard for me to suggest going out with my dad or buying a gift or even a card because I hate reminding hubby of his loss. Not that he needs reminding, I am sure he thinks about it every day. I can not imagine losing one of my parents, much less as quickly as we lost his dad.
I really loved my father-in-law. What's more, I liked him so much as a person. He was one of the most humorous, easy going, fun loving people you'd ever want to meet. He wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought or give you his opinion, but he was one of those rare people who could do it in a way so that you appreciated his advice even if you hadn't asked for it. When hubby had a serious accident in 2000 he was hospitalized in a coma for about a month. During that time I stayed in a nearby house (lent to us by our gracious cousin Lori) with my mother- and father-in-law so that we could remain 10 minutes from the hospital and not have to make the long drive home each day. Those weeks were so hard for me, and I can only imagine how they were for his parents. But Jerry always comforted me and talked to me when I needed to talk. We would get home from the hospital at nearly 10pm, after having been there all day just sitting and waiting. His mother and I were both preoccupied with our mother/son or wife/husband losing scenarios. His mom would usually go straight to bed when we got home but Jerry would sit up and watch the news. I would usually sit with him, glassy eyed and exhausted, wishing I could sleep but knowing that I couldn't yet so he and I would talk for an hour or so. Sometimes about important things like life and death and religion, sometimes about stupid things like potato chips or corn or lightening bugs. No matter the subject, he would go to bed and leave me feeling like somehow, now, I could sleep. Like I could make it through just one more day. And then another and another.
From the moment I started dating my husband, 17 years ago, his dad made me feel like a part of the family. And I was happy to be a part. I loved sneaking him Snickers bars and popcorn in his father's day gifts, despite the (lovingly) disapproving look my mother-in-law gave us both. But never had I felt more like his own child than during those 3 weeks we spent together. Only then did I realize how lucky my husband and his 2 sisters were to have had a father like this. After hubby was home and recovered things went back to normal, but I just felt closer to Jerry. And I think he felt closer to me, too. If only I had known then that he would be gone in less than 6 years, I would have told him how lucky I felt to know him. I would have told him how much I appreciated his time and attention during those weeks. I would have told him that I am sorry I didn't realize while he was comforting me that he, too, was hurting. I wish I had my wits about me enough to comfort him, too. After all, it was his only son in that hospital room. But, I can only hope and believe he knows all this. Everyone, please be sure your loved ones know this every day. Kids, dads, moms, grandparents, friends. It is so important.
He was a big presence and his loss is still felt in many lives beyond our own family. His funeral was enormous and packed with as many children as adults, coming to say goodbye to Mr. Jerry. There were people of many races, status, and ages in that room and I couldn't help but look around and think that I really never knew how many lives he had touched. As much as I miss him, I still get glimpses of him every day. Sometimes my husband will say something or do something or act in a way that reminds me so much of his dad, he is his father's son. And I feel so lucky to have a husband who was raised by such a father.
