My father-in-law passed away last weekend.
I have known him for about seven years. I have actually seen him five times. It is hard to have a connection with your in-laws...hard for most...especially when they are so far away. We took a trip last April to visit my in-laws in Tennessee. This was a trip we were all a little excited about.
Chief and his dad have been working on a car together. This was a life-long dream the two of them had. The car is a Cobra kit car. A year ago, Chief had it shipped to his dad in a zillion pieces. By the time we got there in April, he had already done a ton of the work. This trip was exciting because Little Man was going to get to be part of a third-generation car build. I was really more along for the ride than anything. Except it ended up being much more for me. This was the first time I felt connected to this man. We were all out in his shop working on the car (Chief, Dad, and I). Dad was looking for a tool and was frantically searching around the car for it. He didn’t see it, and headed over to his one-of-many toolboxes. Only he didn’t quite make it. His foot caught on the corner of one of his shop rugs. He fell. In that moment, he was my dad. He was no longer just Chief’s dad. He was also my dad. My heart jumped as I ran to his side. Being the tough guy he is, he got up, brushed himself off, and assessed the damage. He was bleeding in a couple spots...but seemed to be okay. His response, “Well, that will probably hurt later.” He shrugged and got back to work. I was shaken seeing the fall. I wanted to follow him, to protect him from falling again. When someone you love hurts, you hurt. This was the first time I hurt for this man. I loved him and it scared me to see him fall.
They spent every waking hour in the shop that week. I would go down from time to time to be part of what they were doing. I am not a huge fan of cars, but I wanted to be with the two of them. I wanted to break into that bond and have a piece of it to take with me. Then the moment came...a moment that I am proud to say I was a part of. They were starting the motor in the Cobra for the first time. Dad gave me the honors of starting the vehicle. He handed me the key and told me to put it into the ignition, which at the time was dangling from the dashboard. Then he told me to put my phone down while I was doing it. I hit record and got the whole thing on tape. Chief was standing at the back of the car (near the battery) while dad was standing at the front (bent over the hood). I had the best view. Dad’s face. All of the work boiled down to this special moment. The moment that we would start the motor, that Dad built, in the car, that Dad assembled. I fired that car up. It was loud. But the sound didn’t matter; all I could see was his face. The excitement stretched across his face was priceless. This man worked hundreds of hours for this one moment....and I was there to see it. He was proud. Proud of what he built from the ground up. He had every right. There aren’t many people that have that gift.
We said our goodbyes on Sunday, and headed back home. Had I known this was my last time seeing him, I would have held him a little longer...a little tighter.
I haven’t known Dad for that long, I know. But I do know he gave me a gift. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have my husband. Many years ago, Dad took the responsibly of raising two boys. There aren’t many men who step up to the plate to raise boys on their own. Dad did. Not only that, but he encouraged them. He never missed a wrestling tournament. He expected excellence... He didn’t handhold like us parents do now. He raised respectful, successful men. And he was proud of them.
Three weeks ago, the car was complete. Chief flew to Tennessee. The plan was for him and Dad to drive it back to Connecticut. He was going to stay with us for a couple weeks, and take a look at my corvette...possibly build another motor for it. This was a trip Chief had been looking forward too. They were finally going to get to show off what they had done. They were going to make stops along the way and show people they knew. While Chief was there, the day before they were planning to leave, something happened with the clutch. They knew at that moment, it was not something that would be repaired in time for them to leave the next day on their road trip. Chief ended up flying back home and they scheduled to make the trip at the end of the month instead (after the clutch got fixed).
Now I know why the clutch broke. Dad was never meant to make that trip. God had a different plan. Less than two weeks later, he was in the hospital with a machine breathing for him. He was done. He had accomplished what he wanted to. He knew the moment Chief got there, that he wasn’t going to make that trip. He knew his time was up. He had done everything he wanted to do. He had said his goodbyes. He had finished his business. There was nothing left for him. I believe his body held out as long as he wanted it to...and no more.
I am so sad this man is gone. I am sad for my husband. He talked to Dad almost every Sunday. I will miss hearing the excitement in Dad’s voice as he talked about the newest obstacle with the Cobra. I am also happy. I am happy he no longer lives with daily pain. I believe he was in much more pain then he ever let anyone believe. That was his pride hard at work. He didn’t want people worrying, or making a fuss. I have to believe he is in a better place now. A place where he can hop in any car he wants and take it for a spin. A place where there are no speed limits, but the car is big enough that
he doesn’t feel claustrophobic. I think he is in a place where he can eat whatever he wants and he can have his Fox news on in the background. He is in a happier place. A place where he feels no pain and has no worries.
I have known him for about seven years. I have actually seen him five times. It is hard to have a connection with your in-laws...hard for most...especially when they are so far away. We took a trip last April to visit my in-laws in Tennessee. This was a trip we were all a little excited about.
Chief and his dad have been working on a car together. This was a life-long dream the two of them had. The car is a Cobra kit car. A year ago, Chief had it shipped to his dad in a zillion pieces. By the time we got there in April, he had already done a ton of the work. This trip was exciting because Little Man was going to get to be part of a third-generation car build. I was really more along for the ride than anything. Except it ended up being much more for me. This was the first time I felt connected to this man. We were all out in his shop working on the car (Chief, Dad, and I). Dad was looking for a tool and was frantically searching around the car for it. He didn’t see it, and headed over to his one-of-many toolboxes. Only he didn’t quite make it. His foot caught on the corner of one of his shop rugs. He fell. In that moment, he was my dad. He was no longer just Chief’s dad. He was also my dad. My heart jumped as I ran to his side. Being the tough guy he is, he got up, brushed himself off, and assessed the damage. He was bleeding in a couple spots...but seemed to be okay. His response, “Well, that will probably hurt later.” He shrugged and got back to work. I was shaken seeing the fall. I wanted to follow him, to protect him from falling again. When someone you love hurts, you hurt. This was the first time I hurt for this man. I loved him and it scared me to see him fall.
They spent every waking hour in the shop that week. I would go down from time to time to be part of what they were doing. I am not a huge fan of cars, but I wanted to be with the two of them. I wanted to break into that bond and have a piece of it to take with me. Then the moment came...a moment that I am proud to say I was a part of. They were starting the motor in the Cobra for the first time. Dad gave me the honors of starting the vehicle. He handed me the key and told me to put it into the ignition, which at the time was dangling from the dashboard. Then he told me to put my phone down while I was doing it. I hit record and got the whole thing on tape. Chief was standing at the back of the car (near the battery) while dad was standing at the front (bent over the hood). I had the best view. Dad’s face. All of the work boiled down to this special moment. The moment that we would start the motor, that Dad built, in the car, that Dad assembled. I fired that car up. It was loud. But the sound didn’t matter; all I could see was his face. The excitement stretched across his face was priceless. This man worked hundreds of hours for this one moment....and I was there to see it. He was proud. Proud of what he built from the ground up. He had every right. There aren’t many people that have that gift.
We said our goodbyes on Sunday, and headed back home. Had I known this was my last time seeing him, I would have held him a little longer...a little tighter.
I haven’t known Dad for that long, I know. But I do know he gave me a gift. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have my husband. Many years ago, Dad took the responsibly of raising two boys. There aren’t many men who step up to the plate to raise boys on their own. Dad did. Not only that, but he encouraged them. He never missed a wrestling tournament. He expected excellence... He didn’t handhold like us parents do now. He raised respectful, successful men. And he was proud of them.
Three weeks ago, the car was complete. Chief flew to Tennessee. The plan was for him and Dad to drive it back to Connecticut. He was going to stay with us for a couple weeks, and take a look at my corvette...possibly build another motor for it. This was a trip Chief had been looking forward too. They were finally going to get to show off what they had done. They were going to make stops along the way and show people they knew. While Chief was there, the day before they were planning to leave, something happened with the clutch. They knew at that moment, it was not something that would be repaired in time for them to leave the next day on their road trip. Chief ended up flying back home and they scheduled to make the trip at the end of the month instead (after the clutch got fixed).
Now I know why the clutch broke. Dad was never meant to make that trip. God had a different plan. Less than two weeks later, he was in the hospital with a machine breathing for him. He was done. He had accomplished what he wanted to. He knew the moment Chief got there, that he wasn’t going to make that trip. He knew his time was up. He had done everything he wanted to do. He had said his goodbyes. He had finished his business. There was nothing left for him. I believe his body held out as long as he wanted it to...and no more.
I am so sad this man is gone. I am sad for my husband. He talked to Dad almost every Sunday. I will miss hearing the excitement in Dad’s voice as he talked about the newest obstacle with the Cobra. I am also happy. I am happy he no longer lives with daily pain. I believe he was in much more pain then he ever let anyone believe. That was his pride hard at work. He didn’t want people worrying, or making a fuss. I have to believe he is in a better place now. A place where he can hop in any car he wants and take it for a spin. A place where there are no speed limits, but the car is big enough that
he doesn’t feel claustrophobic. I think he is in a place where he can eat whatever he wants and he can have his Fox news on in the background. He is in a happier place. A place where he feels no pain and has no worries.
You did good, Dad. Thank you for giving me a great man. Thank you for letting me be part of starting that car that day. Thank you for explaining to me why you put this piece here, or that piece there. Thank you for letting me help you put those wires in that plastic tube...for making me feel needed. Thank you for taking the cover off of the filter to show me what was inside. Thank you for allowing my son to be part of that build....even if he spent more time driving around your golf cart then bent over the car. Thank you for leaving my husband with wonderful memories of your last year with us. He will be able to hang on to those for forever. That was a wonderful gift you made just for him. I am grateful for your life and the time I got to spend with you. You will be missed.
Love,
Your daughter-in-law that had just started calling you Dad
Love,
Your daughter-in-law that had just started calling you Dad
