Monday Memories 05.29.06

Since it's Memorial Day, I wanted to remember an incredibly special man ~ my father-in-law, Edward Frances (with a last name that is incredibly Irish and the same as mine, which is why I'm not going to name it now). His parents came over to the United States from Ireland and passed through Ellis Island. He was born in 1922, served in WWII and raised 7 children; two step-children and five of his own, one being my ex-husband. He was a kind, gentle and wise man and I loved him tremendously.

While I was married to my ex-husband, his mother hated me with a passion. She actively pursued ways to show me how much she despised me, as she did with each person - man or woman - who married one of her children. I was very young and shocked and confused by her unprovoked hatred. I was raised to respect adults, especially my elders, and was just idealistic enough to think I could turn it around, so for the first few years I never fought back. Through it all, there was Ed. He loved her immensely, but knew she was unfair in her treatment of me. He always let me know that he loved me and that I was a valued member of his family. He made dealing with her bearable. We shared the same twisted sense of humor and he knew it. When something happened at a family gathering that he knew I would find equally ridiculous, he would always catch my eye and give me a look that spoke volumes. It was as though only he and I knew how completely stupid a particular comment was. If someone said something that could have a silly double meaning, we agreed on those too, and with a look could have each other in stitches.

When my ex-husband was born, Ed was in his late 40's. He and my mother-in-law had married later in life, each with two children of their own, and decided to have a child together. What they got was triplets, one of them being my ex-husband. Unfortunately, he had smoked all of his life, and by the time his triplets were in their teens, his health had begun to fail. In the last few months of his life, he lived in an assisted living home after losing most of his lower limbs. His wife no longer felt equipped to care for him and even checked out emotionally. She lived a just few miles away, yet visited less then once a week. It killed me to think of him alone and I tried to visit him at least every other day. I knew my time with him was short. I tried to make his last few days as comfortable as possible, and I would bring him whatever he wanted, trying to repay him for the love and kindness he had always shown me, even when it was against his wife's wishes.

Ed passed away in September of 1995, at 73 years old. He was the proud father of seven children and at that time, grandfather to eleven. My oldest daughter was four years old and my youngest daughter was not yet a year old when he passed away. Sadly she never really knew her grandpa Ed. He was always so proud of being the child of immigrants and being able to fight for his country, and of raising and providing for his family.

If I had five more minutes with him, I would look him in the eye and thank him for being the model of fatherhood, marriage, love and fairness that he was to me and countless others. I would ask him to tell me one more story from his days as a Navy corpsman, and I would tell him I love him and miss him dearly.