My father-in-law is 81. He is dying of congestive heart failure. His kidneys are just about shot and it's just a matter of days. My mother-in-law took him to the hospice yesterday. His last trip to anywhere.
This man has been an object of scorn for me as long as I've known him. He treated Susan and her brother badly after marrying their mother when Susan was twelve. Needless to say, he was the model of prospective-stepparent perfection prior to tying the knot. Then he kicked Susan out of the house when she was just seventeen.
He'd promised Susan's mom he'd support her, that she could quit her job. Also needless to say, neither of those things ever happened; in fact, he retired a good dozen years before she did—from part-time self-employment mowing lawns. It was she who supported him, for the most part, from their wedding day forward.
And the band just played on and on and on.
Now he's teetering at the edge of oblivion, Will, and I find that I no longer harbor so much as a shred of rancor toward him within my amply larded breast. I am glad of that, and at the same time I feel sorry that I have resented him for my wife's sake for so many years—especially since Susan (a better human being than I can ever hope to be) has never, ever, ever treated him with less than the courtesy and consideration that every father considers his due. Her goodness indicts my humanity, mocks my pretensions of decency, makes me feel ashamed.
Last evening, at dinner, she told me something so piercingly poignant that it brought me almost to tears for Hank—a thing I never would have imagined possible.
She told me that her mother drove Hank home from the hospital yesterday afternoon to collect a few things before taking him to the hospice, where his medications would be discontinued and his exit from this earth eased in all ways possible. But as they were about to leave the house, Hank told Nancy he wanted to complete the nearly finished jigsaw puzzle he'd been working on for weeks.
And then he sat down at the table and put the handful of remaining pieces into place before getting back in the car.
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How many of us get a chance to put the "remaining pieces into place" before exiting this earth...?
ReplyDeleteThat was deeply moving.
I am ever in awe of the way you speak about Mom. It is heartening to know such love exists in a society rife with divorce and betrayal.
ReplyDeleteLife is such a sad thing.
ReplyDeleteI hope those weren't the only "remaining pieces" he put in place before he left earth. Susan's goodness puts us all to shame - too bad we waste so much time being mad or sad over things we can't do anything about. I've always been in awe of the depth of feeling and admiration you have for Susan - that's why I saved all those emails -For posterity, and reflection.
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