The Long Goodbye

Eighteen years ago I met a man who would one day break my heart. I can only imagine what he thought of the awkward, purple shoe wearing misfit that his son dragged home from college one spring weekend in 1994. Could he have dreamed how it would all turn out in the end? Of course not. And I don't know that either one of us would have wanted to know even if we had been given a crystal ball.

Drew's dad Jim had been a lot of things to a lot of people. He was the adopted only son of a middle class mid-western family. He was the husband and father who was away from home for years at a time missing large stretches of his marriage and his children's childhoods. He was the United States Marine, proudly serving his country in Korea and Vietnam; places I never heard him speak about but that I know helped to shape the man he was. He was the savvy businessman who grew his own company from the ground up into the well established defense contracting business it remains today.

But I didn't know those Jims. Those Jims existed before I came into his life. I caught glimpses of them from time to time, but to me, he was always Mr. J, Drew's dad. I learned a lot about him over the years as I began to spend more and more time with Drew's family. I learned that he was kind to people, whether they deserved his kindness or not. I learned that he had a slow temper, but once he did reach his boiling point, Lord help the guy on the receiving end. I learned that he loved his wife and couldn't imagine a world with out her as I watched him stay by her side as she battled cancer. I learned that he made mistakes that he was sorry for and always tried to make amends. I learned that if there was one place on earth he wanted to be it was on the water with a fishing pole in his hand. I learned that he believed firmly in God and the power of prayer and that he placed his eternal soul in the hands of Jesus Christ. I learned that his family came first in all things, big or small. I learned that he liked the Washington Redskins and taking walks in the woods and riding on his John Deere tractor. I learned that he had accepted me into his family as I danced with him, tears in our eyes, on my wedding day. I learned that he could be strong and gentle at the same time on the day when he held his premature granddaughter in his hands for the first time. And I learned that he would eventually have the power to break my heart.

Through the years, Drew's father evolved from Mr. J, to Jim, and finally to Dad. Our relationship grew slowly without much pomp and circumstance. There were no cosmic shifts in the universe. No ceremonial acknowledgements. Just the steady family rhythms that develop year after year.

In August of 2009, Drew's family came for a visit. Jim was suffering with stomach pains that came and went and were attributed to some bad food or a viral infection. Over the course of several weeks, when instead of feeling better, he only continued to feel worse, he sought the advice of a physician.

After few months and many tests, the cancer was found, firmly attached to his pancreas at the major artery.

I won't belabor his treatment, suffering, or the tribulation the family would endure in the coming months. Suffice it to say that watching someone slowing dying one day at a time is the hardest thing I've ever had to live through. To watch a man so strong and full of life be reduced into the frailest form of humanity is something that I never wish to have to watch again.

But in those months, as his body weakened, what strengthened was my respect and love for him. I watched him fight to be the absolute best grandfather he could possibly be to my children. On days when he could barely get out of bed, he would find the strength to drive Brody around on the tractor just one more time. Times when you could see the pain so severe in his eyes, he would find the determination to sit and listen intently to Molly reading story after story. In the last weeks, when it appeared that he had nothing left to give, he would lay in bed and talk with me for hours about how things were going in MY life and what he wanted to do to help.

The last conversation I had with him was spoken between fits of sobbing. We both knew very well that we would never see one another again. I held him as gently as I could and told him that I loved him very much. And I thanked him. Thanked him for everything he was to me over those 18 years. So much more than just a father-in-law. So much more.

I'll miss you Dad. Miss the fishing trip we would have taken. And the tractor rides. And the crab cookouts. And the milestones with the kids that I know you would have loved to have seen. Miss the encouragement you gave me to be the best wife and mother I could be. Miss the way you made waffles for breakfast. And the way you seemed to get me even when no one else did. There will always be a void in our lives now. The place were you should have been. Please know that you are now and will always be in my heart, broken though it may be, until we meet again...