My blog page has evolved into a potpourri of who
knows what, but I haven’t made a post in weeks, in large part because of a
tragedy to Darwin Smith, my father-in-law. He took a walk from his independent
living home and never returned. We searched frantically from Tuesday night (the
day after Labor Day) to Sunday night before conceding that either a) he was a
victim of foul play b) he had a medical catastrophe or c) he was safe and sound
either unable or unwilling to contact us. It ended up being the medical issue—a
heart attack—which is what we suspected all along. He was discovered in the
middle of a woods three days after the official search had ended. He had passed
away somewhere between the Tuesday evening that he had left and early the
following Wednesday morning and was found eight days later.
Let me say that tragedies like this are a strain on
a person’s faith in God. I’m sure He knows this obvious fact. I had a few
unhappy heart-to-hearts with God during the week. And just when I was wondering
why I and hundreds or thousands of other praying people were so unimportant to
Him, He pulled off a miracle, answering our prayers. The body was found “coincidentally” in a place
the County Drain Commission was clearing brush and trees for the first time in
seven years. A worker actually got lost in the woods where he discovered the
body. There was closure. It doesn’t change the grief of losing a father,
brother, grandpa, friend, and for me, a father-in-law. He was a fantastic
man—someone for whom I had great respect…someone for whom I have fantastic
memories. Below are a few of them:
1.
I’ll never forget the nervous meeting I had with
him when I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He told me if I take her,
I couldn’t give her back. He asked me if I had any idea what I was getting
into. I felt compelled to defend my love for her before he started laughing and
told me he would be honored for her to marry me. He teased everyone, and
somehow it made him more likable. He was always having fun.
2.
Darwin had a unique way of saying goodbye. I
remember one time after my wife and her sister and brother had investigated
some places for him to move into, he told me that he wanted a “house with a
restaurant in the basement.” Well, when we moved him into his third floor
apartment at Genesee Gardens, the dining facility was on the first floor where
we ate dinner with him on Labor Day. His house had “a restaurant in the
basement.” When we’d officially moved him in and said our goodbyes for the day,
he did what he always did. He walked us to the door and stood there in plain
view, waving as we drove away. That’s the last time I saw him—he disappeared
the next afternoon—but it’s how I’ll remember him.
3.
He had a stroke on Good Friday. After his stay
in the hospital, we chose to put him in the same convalescent home for
temporary rehab that his wife lived. She has Alzheimer’s; he had a difficult
time speaking sensibly. I was visiting him with my wife, and we took him to see
my mother-in-law. She likes to walk, so he grabbed her hand and held it as the
four of us walked around the facility. It was such a sweet thing to see, sad as
it was at the same time. But Darwin loved Bonnie—he told people before he left his
apartment that he was planning on visiting her—and their hand-holding is the
picture I’ll always remember.
4.
Both of my kids played three sports in school,
and Darwin loved to come watch them play. However, he never got there on time.
I can’t even fathom how many times we had to save seats for him and my
mother-in-law, watching the doorway for him so we could get his attention. He’d
been out to eat, of course. He rarely ate a meal at home, so rarely in fact,
that we took to checking the dates on everything in his refrigerator before
we’d consider eating it. He’d inevitably call my wife at least three or four
times, asking us about the schedule (which we’d always given him), letting us
know he was coming, checking where we were, telling us he was parking—it was a
constant routine that seemed old at the time, but seems endearing now.
5.
Holiday celebrations were a constant in the
Smith family. We’d meet on Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving,
Halloween night after the kids trick-or-treated, and Christmas (which will be a
memory all its own). We met at the cottage for Labor Day, Memorial Day, and
watched fireworks from a pontoon boat in Silver Lake on the Fourth of July.
Meals were always organized and we spent lots of time laughing and sharing
around the table. I’ll never forget the time for Thanksgiving that he was
responsible for the turkey, and he purchased turkey in a can. He never lived
that one down. All the family traditions will be remembered fondly and will be
continued in his honor.
6.
Darwin was a handy guy. I am not. He could build
or fix anything. I break permanently anything I try to fix. My wife just
resigned herself to my ineptness, and she would call her dad. He whistled while
he worked. Actually, he whistled while he walked, drove a car, and cooked. He
whistled while he moved would be a
better description. It was nice to hear because if he wasn’t around fixing our
broken things, I would have been destroying them. I once broke my porcelain
toilet, trying to change the toilet seat. He installed the new toilet. Another time, I had finally resorted to
a hacksaw to remove a doorknob before my wife and sister-in-law removed it in about six
seconds. If a dollar value could be placed on my father-in-law’s home fix ups,
it would be in the thousands. What am I going to do now…maybe if I took up
whistling my success rate would improve?
7.
He played the organ for his church, but he
played our piano nearly every time he visited our house. I bought Jennifer a
piano one Christmas. He’s played it more than she does. Even just a couple of weeks after
his stroke when his mind was on the mend, he could still play the piano
perfectly. Over the last five months as he struggled to get back to his old
self, he continued to smile, laugh, and play the piano perfectly—never the same
song twice. Our dogs would curl up at the piano bench when he played, sometimes
even licking his legs. I’ll always think of him when I hear piano music.
8.
The newbies of the family have taken to calling
the Smith Christmases “Smithmas.” Well, Smithmas is the single biggest thing I’ll
remember about my father-in-law. Christmas in my family lasted about twenty
minutes, not counting cleanup. Oh, we played with our nice gifts and had a fantastic
meal, but the presents part was a shedding of paper and thank you’s at the end.
My first Christmas with the Smiths ended with me opening my last gift 17 hours
after arriving at my wife’s grandparents’ house for breakfast and round one.
Three meals, numerous snacks, three separate gift-opening sessions, and about
fifty gifts later, I collapsed into bed after midnight. You may think I’m
exaggerating, but I’m not. I was stunned and exhausted. There have been minor
changes in the celebration considering the passing of the grandparents, growth
of our families, and the changes in our economic conditions, but the enormity
of it all has never changed. What a generous, happy man Darwin Smith was, and
his family was raised just like him.
Teasing, waving goodbye,
loving his wife unconditionally, being with his family, family traditions, handiness
and helpfulness, happy whistling, piano playing, and Christmas—those are things
I’ll never forget about my father-in-law. He’s in Heaven now, teasing his brother,
waving goodbye to friends he is making, keeping an eye on his wife, spending
time with his mom and dad, watching us carry on his legacy, laughing at me
break things, whistling a perfect tune, singing praises while playing the piano
and organ, and fellowshipping with the One who is the reason for Christmas. He’ll
be missed, but we’ll see him again.
