In March, Mark and I celebrated our 20th anniversary. It was a second marriage for both of us, I had two teenagers from my first marriage. He had none.
I am seven years older than he is. I was a baby when I had my first child, so probably the reason I didn't marry him first is that he was in kindergarten.
We came from opposite sides of the track. His father was an executive, mine a blue collar worker. Their six kids were pretty close, the three kids in our family were like three only children.
I know his mother was not happy about it, just as my mother was so tickled that to this day, he can do no wrong. As time went on, I fell in love with his parents and grandmother as much as I did with him. When his mother lay dying, five years ago, caring for her was a true labor of love for me.
Mark's Dad was lost without his wife. They were a close couple, he the main breadwinner, she the care taker. A month or so after her death, Mark and his dad began taking computer classes one night a week, having dinner out, and then Mark would spend the night with him. Guys' night out.
Two years ago, Dad's prostate cancer spread to his bones and bone marrow. He had good days, bad days and pain. Even though they no longer took classes, Mark would spend at least one night a week with his father. It was their night, the highlight of their week.
Last summer, even though he felt good, his time was running low. He said he would love to visit his sisters in upstate NY. Mark made a few phone calls and arranged for them to meet at Aunt Ruth's house in Geneva, NY. It was an eventful packed four days, Aunt Ruth is an organizer. Dad and Mark, Ruth and Carl and Dad's other sister Anne and her husband, rode on a mail boat on one of the fingerlakes, saw an air show, a pagent about the Mormon Church and played cards until the week hours.
Note: Marks family is from Upstate NY. Dad grew up in the Thousand Island's region, the same place we vacation every year.
Fast forward a year. Dad has had a rough year. The cancer is spreading rapidly, he's in pain and is exhausted much of the time. As usual, Mark spends his night with him, but occasionally, Dad feels too tired and sick to go out to eat. Mark cooks for him at home. Anne and Ruth have come to visit twice, more or less to say good bye, but he's done well enough that they planned yet another adventure north.
Ruth, the planner, has arranged for them to meet at her house, with an additional guest: Dad's Uncle John, who is 91, a world traveler and still going strong. Mark and Dad were going to leave on Friday, the 15th and come home the following Monday.
Last week, when Dad was feeling perky, he asked if they could leave a day early and go farther north than Geneva, to LaFargeville, where he grew up. He wants to see his grandmother's house, the islands and other places he never though he'd see again.
Mark promised. Then, this week, Dad was having a really rough time. He doubted that he would get to make the trip. Mark said it was his choice, but they could do as much, or as little, as he was able. Last night, over dinner out, they decided to go for the whole thing.
Mark just called. He made reservations for the two of them at Thousand Islands Inn in Clayton. When Mark told the owner the reason for the trip, the owner said she was from LaFargeville and remembered both of Dad's uncles and their wives.
Now Dad thinks he knows her family. He thinks her father was the town doctor. Sick or not, he's making this trip. Mark said Dad pulled out his original birth certificate to take along, just in case they could go to Ganonoque to see the houseboats we rent each September.
They will discuss this trip many times over the next few days. Each morning at 7:30, Mark calls his dad. Each night on his way home, he calls again to talk about the day. Amost every night, Dad calls us to remind us about educational shows in the history channel, and Mark calls to remind him that all he has to do is call and he'll be there.
I can only hope that my boys inherit some of these genes...I'm sure they can see why I gotta love this man...even though there are days when I'm not sure I like him!
Dad and Aunt Ruth, Mail boat on Lake Skaneateles, July 2004
No comments:
Post a Comment