Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Dear Dad

My husband and I will be celebrating the 51st anniversary of our wedding. I have been thinking a lot about the years my mother and father spent together before my Dad was called home. Let’s walk down memory lane together as I share some thoughts.

My dad met my mother when he went to her grandparents’ house to visit her sister. The sister didn’t pay much attention to Dad as she was dating a high school classmate. Dad persisted in coming to the house anyway and one day, when he didn’t feel well, my mother chose to comfort him and help him feel better. That was the beginning of a romance that lasted almost 65 years!

My mother was only 16 years old when Dad proposed to her! She really wasn’t sure that she was ready for marriage. She was living with her grandparents because her mother died when she was only two years old. She loved them and was grateful to them for taking care of her and her six sisters. Thankfully, her grandparents liked my dad, thought he was a real gentleman and convinced my mother to marry him. They were not getting any younger, they said, and wanted to see one of their grandchildren married before they died. My dad was eight years older than my mother. He was willing and able to support her and the family they would have.

I arrived in this world about a year after they were married, one of only two siblings to be delivered by a mid-wife at their home. Their second daughter was born a little over a year later. The romance continued, producing a son about two years later. It was a prolific marriage. I was blessed to have three additional sisters and three more brothers by the time I met and married by husband in 1960.

My parents struggled to feed all those hungry mouths. We were taught to eat whatever was put before us, so we never went hungry. We knew we were loved and cherished and life was good.

I’ll never forget my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary party. My parents were living in England at the time and my brother, Phil, planned a wonderful celebration. All of my sisters and brothers were able to attend and it was a memorable reunion, as some came from as far away as Australia.

By that time, my parents had adopted a little boy. Dad was proud to announce, when he gave his anniversary speech, that he had to admit that he had robbed the cradle 50 years ago, but he had filled that cradle with ten wonderful children. Ten years later our family gathered again to celebrate their 60th anniversary, although my sister in Australia was unable to join us.

Dad died a couple months before they would have celebrated 65 years together as man and wife. During the last couple years Dad did not want my mother to be out of sight. He’d miss her and wonder where she was when she wasn’t around. It was obvious to everyone that he loved her very, very much.

My mother is still alive and will be entering her 94th year here on Earth in a few days, as my husband and I were married on her birthday. Her health has declined the past three years and she tells me that she is ready to be called home and see Dad once again. She misses him but not as much as I think my Dad would have missed her!

we knew we were loved

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

From The Teller: And so, as my husband and I begin our 52nd year together, I cannot help but wonder how many more years together will we have. Which one of us will be left behind? Is that not reason enough to try to be more patient and loving with each other? I hope I will remember that each and every day in the coming year.