It is Mother's Day and I am thinking of my mother whose life was cut short in 1969 at twenty-two years of age. I was four years old and my brother was sixteen months. I have pieced together a sketchy picture of who she was from photos and conversations from those who knew her. I have no conscious memory of her. A series of events starting with my mother's death and my father marrying again less than one year after her death ultimately resulted in estrangement from my father for most of my life.
Another tragic death occurred in November 2014 when my brother's wife, my sister-in-law, took her own life and ended her mental anguish. My nephew and nieces lost their mother much to soon. The sadness I feel for them is immense knowing all too well what it is like to live motherless.
This story now takes an unexpected shift in November 2014. At that time, my father, Daddy, lived in North Richland Hills, Texas, with my step-mother. They had been married for forty-four years but had no real relationship with my brother, my step-sister, me and six of their collective grandchildren.
Daddy showed up at my sister-in-law's funeral. That day, coincidentally, we ended up at the same Cracker Barrel on I-35 coming home from Waco, Texas after the funeral. Daddy bought lunch for his two children and five grandchildren. Consider the significance of this seemingly unremarkable occurrence: Daddy had not bought me a meal since I was sixteen years old in 1981.
Shortly thereafter in December 2014, I made a decision. Boundaries I had established for over twenty years with Daddy to protect my children and me were no longer needed; while crucial in years past for my own mental health, the boundaries had served their intended purpose. So I called Daddy and asked him if he wanted to stay with Oldest Son and Youngest Son while I traveled to Poland on a business trip in January 2015. To my surprise, he said yes. Until this time, Daddy had not taken care of the boys and I could count on one hand the number of times he had seen them. All went well with this first chance at reunification.
Throughout 2015, we kept stepping forward, inching our way towards a relationship. We would do what regular families do like actually see each other and talk on the phone. Daddy went out of his way to be with us. Daddy made us a priority. This made all the difference.
Then the unimaginable happened in November 2015. A phone call from Daddy changed everything. Daddy announced he was getting divorced. After four decades of marriage, at age 70, he was finally ridding our family of the evil step-mother. My brother and I were swept into a situation we could not have predicted would ever occur; we were helping Daddy figure out what to do next. The answer was far too simple. Daddy sold his house and moved to Stephenville, Texas to be close to my brother and his kids.
Daddy is now in Stephenville for two reasons. He is there to be with my two nieces (ages 11 and 14) and nephew (a freshman at Tarlington State University) and to help his son, my brother. Daddy rented a house across the street from the girls' schools thus the girls can go to Daddy's house in the afternoons. He helps with car pools and doctor appointments and all the many things that require adult hands. My brother is a single parent raising two daughters thus any and all help is appreciated.
Interacting with Daddy is easy. He is a nice man who tries to go along with whatever we want. He is not difficult and not complicated. We cannot erase nor forget that he abandoned my brother and me for almost forty-five years, most of our life. However, we can believe in second chances and choose not the let the past define the time we have left with him. Relationships require time together or there is no authenticity and no closeness. Daddy has finally chosen to give us his time and presence. It is good for my brother and me but it is priceless for the five grandchildren who have another person to love them.
Today I think about the mothers who left this earth far too soon: my mother who Tom and the boys never met, Husband's mother whom I and the boys never met and my sister-in-law.
The first title for this post was "It Is Never Too Late." Then I wrote the last paragraph and realized it is too late after someone dies especially if they pass suddenly. That feels depressing when my intent was to send out a positive message. I have changed the title to "Before It Is Too Late." We have lost our mothers and the grandmothers of our children. But we have chosen to welcome a grandfather.
There is a message in this story.
Cover the distance whether it is emotional or physical to create a relationship that may have been lost ... before it is too late.
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| Husband is the cutie in the overalls held by his father. Husband's mother is holding his older sister. (Husband does have a younger brother who was not born when this picture was taken.) I never met either of Husband's parents as they both passed before we met. |
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| This is me, my parents and my brother in 1968. This is my Daddy who has re-entered our lives. |
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| We do not have too many photos with our family of four: Daddy, me, my mother and my brother. Fairly certain this is taken in January 1968 when my brother came home from the hospital. |
