Today Sam and I were visiting my in-laws because my FIL is home from the hospital and isn’t well. I’ve been avoiding the topic of my father-in-law on this blog for a long time because I have a hard time expressing how I feel about him and what is happening to him because, well, it’s not my nature. There are many in-law horror stories but I can’t contribute because my in-laws are terrific people. They accepted me into the family right away, even though I first met them at a party they’d arranged at least in part to introduce Ben to a friend of theirs who they thought might be potential dating material. I was shy but they were gracious, friendly, and lovely.
When we announced we were getting married a few months later and were married within six months of meeting, they didn’t express panic even though it would generally be considered reasonable. They hosted our wedding party at their farm the next summer and I have only wonderful memories of the event.
My FIL has always been a very active person both physically and intellectually. Ben and I once went skiing with him and when he shwooshed down the mountain past us I knew there was no way I’d ever catch up. Susan and Seward left us in their wake when we canoed together. Seward rarely seemed to sit still between the physical activities needed to maintain their old farmhouse and acreage and the mental acuity he used with his environmental and political activism. He’s received awards for his work over the years and has made a difference in a way very few people can claim.
It’s hard to see what this disease is doing to him, especially the way it’s slowed him down. It is unfair and unnecessary yet we can’t change it. I know he’s still the same person. He still gets his somewhat devilish twinkle in his eyes when he’s going to make a smart-aleck joke. He’s still interested in the world and other people; he hasn’t allowed this disease to isolate him.
I’m writing this now because I know my mother in law reads this and I know she’ll share this with him. I wish I could easily tell him how much he means to me but instead we make small talk and I will him to know it instead. I’m going to miss him terribly when he’s gone and I’m very sorry that Sam isn’t going to know his wonderful “Papa.”
Hang on Seward; do what you enjoy, say what you want to say, and get as much enjoyment as you possibly can out of life.
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2 comments:
That was wonderful,a perfect way to tell him how you feel about him. I wish i could have done that before mine passed last year. I only hope he knew how much i appreciated him, but definitely much better to make sure he knows.
What a great expression, Anne.
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