It’s Thanksgiving and we’re visiting my father-in-law and the rest of the clan on his side of the family. The yearly tradition brings between 16 – 20 of us together to catch up on the year’s events and see how old the kids are getting – now that many of them are starting to have children of their own.
My father-in-law spends the day beaming as he visits each of us. He loves watching his brood grow and he takes his place at the head of the assorted tables cobbled together to make one long dining space that stretches from dining room to living room.
For him it’s bittersweet. It’s the one time of year we all come to visit and feast together. And in years past he would catch the eye of his wife seated at the far end of the table and blow her a kiss. This is the second year that chair will be empty.
Dean was married to Susie for 63 years before she died, leaving him alone and unprepared to continue life without her. For some reason he was blindsided by her passing, even though his kids had been expecting it for years. He assumed she’d come home from the most recent hospitalization just like every other time. This time, though, she didn’t.
He’s been grieving for more than two years now, still heartbroken over losing his one great love. He tells us he talks to her every night to tell her of the day’s events. He says he apologizes to her for not doing enough for her all those years they were together.
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That confession astounds me. I can’t imagine him doing anything more for that incredibly fortunate woman. He created and maintained a beautiful garden in their backyard so she could see it through her kitchen window. Bought a condo in Myrtle Beach to winter there because she loved being near the ocean. Bought the house she loved in Pennsylvania because she loved it. To me, their marriage was what fairy tales are made of, built on love and mutual respect. And now – he bemoans what he thinks he didn’t do.
What he didn’t do is say goodbye to his wife of 63 years. For him, she suddenly died. While she was living he never said…
Thank you for a wonderful life together. Thank you for our four wonderful, productive, achieved kids. Thank you for working and supporting our household while I was earning a Ph.D in metallurgy. Thank you for moving where my jobs took me. And thank you for your never-ending support, friendship and love over the years.
Had he realized she was on a dying path for the last three years of her life, perhaps he might have taken the time to say to her then what he says to her every night now.
The lesson my father-in-law is teaching? Don’t ever wait to say thanks to the people you love. And tell them that you love them. Today, tomorrow and future tomorrows.
actthreedotnet 
WOW that’s beautiful Joyce……thank you for sharing. XOXO
Thank you for touching our hearts…..M
Lovely warm story! How can one ever say goodbye after 63 years even when we do say it many times along the way?
I don’t know if you can ever really say goodbye. But you can say all the things you want someone to know before he or she dies.
I sure hope Dean doesn’t fixate on not having said the actual words, because he doesn’t deserve to suffer. His behavior while she was alive, from what you describe, spoke more loudly than anything. Susie was loved, and I would imagine she knew that in the deepest way. I am sorry for all of you that you have suffered her loss.
The last time I saw my dad alive, I was rather brusque, and I regret it, but I try not to let it bother me because I was good to him all the rest of the time. If he’s aware of me now, I wouldn’t want him to see me suffer, so I keep a stiff upper lip about it. The bigger picture is a prettier one. Best wishes, my friend.
I tell him all the time that I know how loved his wife felt – I saw it. Regret is an unproductive emotion, one that should help motivate us to do today what we’d like to be remembered for.
That is beautiful, Joyce. I enjoyed your column today in the News Sentinel as well. Training in the performing arts is a good background for any number of careers–sales, teaching, etc.–even if the end career is not theater per se.
Thanks Lynn.