remembering Joe
Monday, September 28
(Grandpa) Joe stands far right with his father, brothers, and a cousin on their family farm near Bayard, Iowa, in the 1930s.
On a recent Saturday night we served 70 burgers to friends and family for Shawn’s 40th birthday, then on Sunday ten boys showed up in the afternoon to surprise Middle Son on his 13th birthday (I know, what were we thinking? But my parents came up from Salt Lake City to help pull it all off, so I wasn’t alone in the craziness). It was a birthday blowout weekend, and when I showed up to my desk on Monday I was tired. And really, it wasn’t until 10 p.m. on Sunday night, trying to relax and read a book in bed, that the reality of the other thing that happened last weekend settled in. Unable to focus, I closed my book. Shawn asked if I was crying about Joe.
I nodded.
Joe was my father-in-law before the divorce. He was a good man, Grandpa to my sons. And he died at 9 p.m. on Saturday night in northern Minnesota after a battle with lung cancer, his arms black and blue from months of needles and tubes feeding him medication and intravenous fluids, unable to use the bathroom on his own, oxygen pumped into his lungs…All of this is to say, sometimes release from physical suffering is a relief.
Divorce is a strange thing. Because even if you’ve decided to end a relationship with a spouse, there’s the extended family relationships that leave everyone sort of shell-shocked and scratching their heads. What about those heartfelt gifts and the years of holidays spent together? Is all of that over now as well? Are you divorced from your in-laws too? Most of us separate ourselves from those extended family relationships, but if the relationships were friendly, that often comes with a lot of pain and awkwardness for everyone.
In my case, I saw my ex-in-laws when they came to town to visit, because we are still connected by three boys who get transferred to two different households. The discomfort eased over the years, and we were able to be around each other in a pleasant way. Still, I know the pain that the divorce caused them, and the only way I was able to apologize for that was in writing.
The tears that showed up on Sunday night caught me by surprise. I had had my gripes and off-moments with Joe over the years as well. I think maybe I even held a bit of a grudge about them until now, until this sadness. We are both stubborn people. But I always had a soft spot in my heart for him. Maybe it’s partly the fact that he grew up during the depression on a century-old family farm in Iowa, also one of three boys, like my sons. He told stories of those idyllic days of struggle for the basics in life, and a photo of him with his pa and two brothers and a cousin on the farm makes my heart clench. Only his baby brother (who was 6’ 4’’to Joe’s 5’ 6’’frame as a young man) an organic pig farmer in southern Minnesota, remains.
How will it be for my sons when they say goodbye to one brother, then another goes and the last is left with the loneliness? The complexity and depth of these ties hit me one evening when Youngest Son was watching a documentary about Vincent Van Gogh and his relationship with his brother, Theo. Theo looked after Vincent and supported his painting over the years, and after Vincent killed himself, Theo went mad from the effects of syphilis and depression. In retrospect, it was perhaps too heavy of a show for Youngest Son. Tears sped down his face as he quietly cried.
“I hope I die before my brothers,” he said. “Because I would hate to see their deaths.”
In the end, Joe’s baby brother said he preferred to speak to him by phone each day rather than drive the few hundred miles to see him. He couldn’t bear to see what cancer had stolen from his big brother.
I will always remember Joe’s delight in simple things. You could put a small bowl of ice cream in front of him and he’d get that slow grin and boom, “Oh, look at this! Ice cream!” Once when I made tacos while he was visiting he commented on my exotic cooking and asked me how to assemble them. He called Youngest Son “Skeeziks” and loved to fish with the boys up at the family cabin on a lake. He was a World War II veteran. He made a modest living as a social worker, but always found money to privately give to others who needed it more. He volunteered. He was best friends with his wife until the end.
He was a good man, and he will be missed.
Reader Comments (3)
I have seen first hand the awkward relationships that are left behind after a divorce and sympathize with you in your loss. Your words are really beautiful and should be shared with his remaining family. I know they would appreciate the love and respect for Joe you've shown in written word. You have a beautiful gift.
Thanks for your encouragement, Kim!
After I read your comment, I decided to go ahead and let my ex-husband know that I'd written about his father and he seemed to appreciate it...Perhaps he'll share it with the rest of his family.
What a lovely tribute.