Feb. 04, 2003 ~ The circle
He was my mother�s first love. She was a young secretary; he was a pilot. They talked of marriage. I don�t remember how the story went, or what had happened to break them up, but eventually she started dating the man who would become my dad. My father died many years ago, and a few months later, my mom contacted her old flame. He had divorced and was happily, or maybe unhappily, single. He and my mom had never really fallen out of love, and it wasn�t long before they married.
He had two kids of his own, and had inherited a young stepson in his first marriage. He had pretty much raised the boy. All of the children were adults now, and Stepdad made it clear that he was done with kids and stepchildren. He was nice enough; he just had no interest in getting involved with me or my family, beyond a superficial relationship.
I was a little disappointed, at the time. When I hear people talk about their fathers in loving, respectful terms, I am always a little wistful. I was not so lucky in the dad department. But now my mom was married to the man who� could have been my father, had things been different. And I have sometimes wondered what life would have been like, under those circumstances. �Normal� is the word that comes to mind. Anyway. Things don�t always work out like we plan.
I tried to be charming, likable, and sweet. I baked him cookies, prepared his favorite foods, sent him birthday cards, carefully chose his Christmas gifts. He smiled, he appreciated it. But I never really won him over. At some point, I heard too much about their inevitable marital troubles, issues small and large, and I didn�t like him quite so much. Then he wasn�t particularly nice to me, and we had a falling out. We had no contact for a long time.
Until my mom got sick.
She was desperately ill, and spent the last two months of her life in the hospital. This meant that, like it or not, he and I would have to see each other. We had an uneasy truce, and at some point, I don�t know how, he began to be kind to me again. It was a tough, painful time in every way, but we got through it.
He had his funny ways. Don�t we all? Theirs was a very modern marriage; they maintained separate households, actually. Her house and his farm. They shuffled back and forth. Took long trips together. Spent time at each other�s homes. But when she died, a part of him died with her. He said he could not bear to set foot in her home again. And he meant it. I finally packed up his things and shipped them to him. That was 11 years ago. I have not seen him since. He said that I reminded him of her.
In the beginning, we talked several times a year, and cards and letters were exchanged at Christmas. Over time, the phone calls were fewer, the letters shorter. My mother was the thread that connected us, and that thread had been broken. But I�d been saving an article for him for several months, meaning to put it in with my Christmas letter. I forgot to include it, so later sent the article separately, along with another letter. I just knew he�d have something to say about that article, but there was no reply.
Yesterday a note arrived in the mail, from his son. He said that his dad had died about two weeks ago, and that because he�d kept no address book, he and his sister had trouble contacting their father�s friends and loved ones. They had to go through his saved cards and letters, gathering what information they could. I expect he did have an address book somewhere, but am not surprised that they haven�t found it yet. They probably will, someday.
It was not a personal loss, in the sense that he and I were not close. But the circle has grown smaller. I have few living relatives, by blood or marriage. There aren�t many people left in the world who knew me when I was young, or who knew my family. And someone who meant the world to my mother� is now gone.
He was my mother�s first love. She was absolutely crazy about him.
And he loved her with all his heart.
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