Don’t Stop Thinking of Me….

My father-in-law has always been ever present in my adult life. Not in bold ways, never demanding attention, or directing special attention, or the director of special family events, birthday parties or holiday gatherings. I remember one summer afternoon riding down Teepee Town Road in Fork Union in the car with Rob and his brother, Scott, going to the Drive-In during my college days while dating Rob, talking about Jack Feathers, the dad of 4 sons. A lifetime member of fire and rescue in Fluvanna County. Plaques displayed in our entrance to our house when squads arrive to transport him now to Southside Hospital. Young men, volunteers, pause, and ask, and admire this 87-year-old man. A cardiac tech, a math teacher and Assistant Dean of Fork Union Military Academy. A grandfather to my children. A man who (as Scott Feathers described on that hot summer day) says, “I love you” by bringing the ambulance to every FUMA football game where his boys were playing. Holding a new grandson or granddaughter in his arms-speechless-rocking-no words-just strength in his arms-and a smile. Showing up to hold a hand of Erin in the hospital, sitting for hours beside her bed while intubated. Showing up with a dolly to cart boxes of medical supplies to our garage from his sunroom in the pouring rain to save me time and effort in setting up her dialysis when she was very sick. Just doing it and not even knocking at the door.

Telling me to keep writing stories about our lives in my blog with tears in his eyes. “Write about Erin and me,” he says. Reminding me to include in my stories how she loved her Pap-Pap. “Be sure to include how I rocked her to sleep. Tell about how she always wanted half of my sandwich at Sal’s Pizza on nights you had class at Longwood, and we would babysit.” Erin would say, “Mom, Go Longwood.” She demanded that I go to class, so she could have Pap-Pap and Grandma all to herself along with Diana to go out to eat and have a special grandparent evening.

Jack, my father-in-law, a man of few words, cried over the death of a pet. He never demanded accolades or attention for himself. Dearly loved by grandsons and granddaughters-Sons. Is deeper and more feeling than he was raised to ever reveal. Doesn’t ever give a hug, but never turns one down.

Thank you, Jack, for being the concrete between the bricks in our family. Donna, Grandma, Mee-maw was in the forefront. But, you, Sir, seemed to be in the distance. The background . Yet, you always showed up when needed. Once, Erin put her hand and face through a glass back door of our next door neighbor, Jenny’s house. I yelled for you to “Run!!” to help us, from our back porch. You patiently came across the yard and walked me through the steps of what to do next. You took us to the hospital in the ambulance, and two hours later in the hallway of the emergency room turned to me and said,

“I couldn’t run.”

You had just had knee surgery. You couldn’t run. I said, “I know you couldn’t run!”

That’s the beauty of Jack Feathers with his family-always ready to extend grace and assistance. He tutored Daniel in Geometry leaning against the kitchen sink while drinking black coffee numerous evenings still dressed in his FUMA uniform. He stuck his head in my summer school 7th grade English classroom with a nod of approval when summer school director. He held each of our babies on the front porch of our FUMA house while I washed supper dishes and fixed a pot of coffee. He showed up to work alongside grandsons when extra work details were required. He talked about low blood pressure and taking off fluid on numerous late nights with me when I would stop by after night classes at Longwood during the days when I was figuring out peritoneal dialysis with Erin.

Always extending grace within a rough exterior. Always present. He showed up.

Always.

So, now, Jack Feathers, as you are entering the world of assisted living and thinking, “Are people still thinking about me?”

Oh , yeah! Not a chance you are not missed and thought of in all the small and significant moments of our everyday lives together. And, you are not rid of us anytime soon. We love you and know that each day we look forward to slipping just down the road to steal a glimpse of you-to catch a bit of your wisdom-to rest assured you are not through with us yet. We will fly across the country for you to meet your new great granddaughter, if you cannot come to hold her in Colorado. We will figure out how to navigate these new days of living apart from each other but being still enmeshed with our everyday outings and activities of our daily lives.

You are a part of us -not even a chance you will escape us. We will show up as you have always done for us in each and every occasion in our daily lives, for a cup of coffee on the front porch, to fix something in the house, to rock a baby so I could go to class, when requested or needed or called upon.

Are we still thinking about you? Oh, yeah. Not a doubt. We are. We’re right here. We still need you. Even though you need more than we are able to give.

You’re not going anywhere-not a chance-and we are going to make the most of the life we have together!

So, in case you’re wondering if we are still thinking of you?

See you on Tuesday evening after work?