Remembering

Mr. Jorie, whom I had only known for a few weeks, took me from Illinois State University to Oak Lawn to meet his parents. It was the fall of 1969. The four of us had lunch together in a restaurant, attached to a bowling alley, on 95th Street.

I am not sure that I had told Mr. Jorie that I loved him by then, but I know he had told me. At least we were at the stage of "meeting the parents."

First impressions were made as we shared a yummy meal. Mr. Jorie's mom was a dear, and his dad liked to make people laugh. I think they liked me. All of a sudden two families had grown larger and I have to admit that another "Mom" and "Dad" would be very special--more special than I ever could have imagined on that day.

A few weeks later Mr. Jorie and I became engaged. It was on Valentine's Day, 39 years ago today. A celebration ensued which included both sets of parents. Everyone got along very well, and in fact, the mom's and dad's eventually became very close friends over many years, as they watched with pride and encouraged and supported their children and grandchildren along the way.

Wedding plans were made. My soon-to-be father-in-law, Ed, wanted everything to be perfect. He bought champagne and thought it would be safe in the basement, however he was not counting on a flood to flow into the area. The cardboard boxes that stored the liquor disintegrated and the bottles fell and many broke. At the reception the champagne fountain he had rented froze as the dry ice was placed first. I danced with my new "Dad" and felt completely loved and accepted. Ed did not have a daughter of his own, and thus it was easy for him to bask in the moment. (the photo above captures that special moment)

Hubby and I received our student teaching assignments a few months after our wedding. The school arranged for us to teach in the same town, which gave us the ability to make arrangements to live with his parents. I was a bit nervous, as a newlywed, moving in with my in-laws, however that was the plan.

The house they lived in did not have a door into the bedroom and it only had a saloon type door to the bathroom. I thought it might be difficult for a young married couple to relax in that environment, but looking back I see that it was just fine.

Ed loved to stir up any discussion. I learned that fact as we ate dinner together every evening. If someone said black--he said white. If someone said cold--he said hot. I was a bit put back at his seemingly ornery ways. At times I felt intimidated, but eventually learned a great lesson. I learned that it is okay to disagree. One can learn to respect others even if they are not on the same page. And perhaps this is where I learned that love is unconditional. My new dad loved his family and never intentionally hurt anyone by his opinions. I loved him because he was now family.

Once Mr. Jorie and I were living in our new apartment and then in our first home, all of the moms and dads were happy for us and supported our efforts. Seldom was there negative discussions between any of us, and love continued to grow.

Ed was a character. Everybody knew that--and loved him for it and in spite of it. He knew his own mind and was not afraid to speak it.

Once our children began arriving he was as proud as ever and truly enjoyed being with them. You could see such pride in his face as he held each newborn in his arms. He had a male heir to be proud of and then three little girls to brighten his life. He loved them all.

It was such a blessing during the children's early days for them to have all of their grandmas and grandpas around to enjoy them and to attend their various activities.

You never knew what Ed might say. That kept life interesting--and some times embarrassing. Mr. Jorie is like his dad in many ways--not as gruff, but certainly as embarrassing :)

Dad and Mom willingly helped us out financially, never begrudging the gifts they could give. We were thankful then and continue to be to this day. They set an example--and we willingly help our children today when the need arises. It is this kind of generosity that fits into the things we pass on from generation to generation.

Bass Lake days seem almost magical in my memories. The lake was a place, where one almost stepped back in time. We so enjoyed the cottage, and the lake, and the countryside. Mr. Jorie's parents eventually lived in two different cottages for many years, and visits out there were enjoyed by all of us.

Ed bought a pontoon boat when my firstborn was still a baby, and oh the fun we had on that boat over the years. I also remember toddlers playing in the sand on the beach, rain on the tin roof over the cabana where Mr. Jorie and I would sleep; picking fresh raspberries; and finding grape seeds in my coffee cake. In the second home at Bass Lake I remember the fire pit; the fourth of July; a Christmas tree with no top, chopped down on the coldest day of the year; and a bat here and there. Bass Lake was a little bit of heaven. And we all remember Toto--enough said.

The family likes to recall the afternoon that we (all the moms, dads, and kids) were traveling in the station wagon for a scenic trip around the lake. The two dads where sitting in the "rumble seat"and facing backwards. We remember how we talked as we traveled and then just a minute later we would hear the dad's make the same observations. We laughed then and we all still remember the event.

My own dad passed away several years ago. Oh my goodness--it was so hard. Not that anyone could ever replace my dad, it meant a great deal to me that I still had a father-in-law who loved me as his daughter. It took the emptiness away just a bit.

Two weeks have now passed since I began this post.

My father-in-law, Ed, is no longer with us. He died in his sleep on February 9th at the age of 94, just a few days ago, and has gone to be with His Lord.

We traveled to Florida to be with mom and attend a memorial service in Ed's honor. We put dad's ashes in the Memorial Garden near the home where he lived for many years. We spent time with family. We talked at length about mom and the care she needed, and cried as we said our good-byes to her.

I remember the day I said good-bye to Ed for the final time. It was several months ago when we were in Florida for the whole Disney thing. We stopped in Leesburg for Father's Day, and while everyone else was busy, I sat in the living room with dad. His short term memory was very poor, but he could still carry on a conversation and certainly could recognize the people in his life.

He talked. I listened. He started the same conversation over and over, and I responded each time as if it were the first time he had asked this or that. We carried on the conversation for at least an hour, and both thoroughly enjoyed our time together. The more we talked the more he could remember. It will always be a special memory for me, and the way that I will choose to remember my second dad.

I loved Ed. He was the only person who called me "Doll."

I said good-bye that day in June.

I will miss you, Dad.