I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my feet the Sea.

I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch -
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.

Emily Dickinson, c. 1864

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Father's Day 2018

Derald Heath
This is a picture of my first husband, Derald, who was also the father of my two boys. Today, they are all on the other side of the veil, no longer living, but my memories of them are as much a force in my life today as if they were. So many of my loved ones have passed, but I am still here, so today I'll take a few moments to remember what a great guy Derald was. I didn't always think so; when I divorced him all those long years ago, I was convinced I deserved better. These days, I think he deserved better than the sorry wife I was.

This is what he looked like when I met him and ended up marrying him, although we had only known each other a few months. You can see why I was enchanted with his smile, his good looks. He was an airman working in the hospital when my mother was admitted for some reason I can't remember now. He wore a white coat just like Vince Edwards did in Ben Casey (an old TV series), and he wore it open at the collar, just like in the movies. I was in heaven. When I brought my mother's things to the hospital, Derald asked me out. I was eighteen and smitten.

On our second date, we had sex. It was my first time, and we were in my parents' little Austin Healey Sprite. If you know what the car looks like, you know how challenging it must have been to actually do the deed in that little car. Derald didn't own a car, it was my parents' car, and we drove to an abandoned gravel pit. Romantic, I know. The moon was full, and I remember very well seeing the mound of white gravel reflecting in the moonlight. It was over before I thought it had begun, and I was confused and totally inexperienced. I was eighteen and he was twenty. I know you can probably guess what happened: our son Chris was conceived that night.

I know it was that night, because it was the only time I allowed that to happen, and it was too late. I knew within a few weeks that something amazing was happening in my body. We were married on March 1, 1961, and Chris was born in November. Derald died in 1990, many years ago, and Chris died in 2002.

We had a second son in 1964, Stephen, who was healthy and beautiful until he contracted spinal meningitis at thirteen months. He died in just a few short hours. It was this traumatic time in our lives that broke up our marriage for good. Some people face an event like this one together, and it makes their bond stronger. For us, it was the end. And I was only 22, and the life experience I had was not enough to help me through this period. Derald and I separated shortly afterwards.

But today I am looking back at my life and realize that Derald was not only a good man and a good father and if I would have known what I know now, we would have stayed married and probably made more beautiful children. Derald went on to remarry and had two more sons in his second marriage. He had a heart condition that went undetected, and he died in his sleep at the early age of 51. Chris would eventually die of the same thing, at 40.

One day, Chris convinced me that I should talk to his father. He had been trying to get us to talk to each other for ages, but I was resistant. It was important to him, and he knew and loved both of us, so with much trepidation I made the phone call. We ended up talking for hours, and I realized that Derald had matured into a wonderful person and I felt regret for the choices I had made back then. Of course, I didn't know we would never talk again, that he would soon die (I think it was only a matter of months after), but I was more than a little blessed to have been able to heal over the wound of our separation. He was happy in his life, and I was happy in mine. Chris was thrilled that we had reconciled. I have never forgotten the gift that my son gave me.

I have written many times on Father's Day about my own father, and I thought it would be appropriate to mention the man who fathered my children, and to give him the credit that he is due for being a good father for as long as he lived. He never abandoned his first son, even after he remarried and had a new family. For awhile, Chris lived with them and worked alongside his father in construction projects. I remember Chris telling me about the two of them replacing an entire roof, just the two of them. They were both relatively young and healthy at that time.

At my age, most of my friends have lost their parents, although now and then I'll overhear somebody my age at the gym talking about visiting a parent in a nursing home. No member of my family has ever lived long enough to end up in one. Years ago I volunteered in a nursing home for a short period and found it to be a horrible, horrible place: the vacant stares, the smell, the hopelessness.

But you know, all of those people were at one time vibrant, healthy, productive people. What happened to them? What is real? If we were to actually survive death, in another life, what person emerges into the spiritual realm? If the beautiful infant who was my son Stephen was transported into heaven, did he continue to grow into a man? Surely other people must wonder about these things.

When I think of my departed loved ones, my parents, my children, my previous husband, and the life I am blessed with today, I realize that we will only know the answer to these questions when we join them, if we do even then. My reflections today include the hope that the two of them are hanging out together, maybe working in cloud construction. In my mind's eye, I just got a glimpse of them both laughing and sending their smiles through the thin veil that separates us.

I hope this Father's Day will give all my loved ones a chance to reflect on our own fathers, or those who have acted in that capacity, and take a moment to send them a bit of gratitude. I hope also that until we meet again next week, you will have many moments of grace surround you and your loved ones. I wish you well until then.

18 comments:

Marie Smith said...

Such a wonderful tribute to a man who was so important in your life Jan. He was a handsome man for sure but so much more by the sound of it!

Have a peaceful day and a wonderful week.

John's Island said...

What a wonderful post for Father’s Day. I think this post is a good example of why I would say Eye on the Edge is one of the best blogs I’ve found during my 8 years in the blogosphere. I admire your ability to look through the lens of experience and reflect on life’s earlier challenges. Thanks, as always, for sharing.

Linda Reeder said...

I have read your story before, but it always touches me. You have survived a lot. Your sons' father sounds like a wonderful man.
We'll be feeling fortunate to have our two kids and our two grand kids with us again today. We'll feed them and let them watch world cup games. Tom will man the grill. In other words, we will get to parent today. Their father will be fathering.
Have a good day. Stay cool!

Linda d said...

Beautiful tribute. Not only to the father of your children but also to yourself. Your warm, loving resilience inspires me. The allowances you offer that young woman who was dealing with more than most people have the tools to deal with is gracious and grace filled.

I also have read a portion of this story in a previous post but the fuller picture is what life is made of. The good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful and what we do with it all in the end.

Thank you

Arkansas Patti said...

John's Island said it well. This was an amazing and honest post. We all make judgments when we are young that don't hold water as we age and can see the broader picture. What a handsome man he was and I am so glad Chris convinced you to finally talk to him and maybe understand eachother. Had it not happened, what a void you would have been left with when he passed. You were allowed to heal and appreciate. Wonderful post.

Gigi said...

DJan, this post touched my heart...in more ways than one.

xo

Elephant's Child said...

A truly lovely post.
Thank you so much, for being the person you are. The compassionate, thinking person you are.

Red said...

What is the saying, "Looking back we have 20/20 vision. We learn when we look back. We take that experience with us to the next stage of life. It took me a little longer to put the pieces together so that they worked.

Far Side of Fifty said...

What a handsome man! I am so glad you made peace with him. I had to giggle at your almost description of sex in a small vehicle...:)

Rita said...

Definitely handsome and a beautiful smile. I can see why you would have been smitten.

I have also experienced the confines of a very small car--LOL! Oh, and the bafflement and confusion after that first time. (Do you remember "Is That All There Is" by Peggy Lee--ROFL!)

When we were told Dagan wasn't going to live--his father wanted nothing to do with either of us. I have forgiven him, but he hasn't changed over the years. He's still selfish, manipulative, and distant even to those he claims he loves. I am so very grateful he wanted to split up. But at the time I was devastated. Time gives us perspective...to forgive others, to forgive ourselves. We are lucky to be this old. :) :)

Galen Pearl said...

Yeah, those dimples! What a sweet sweet post. Right from the heart. I married twice, both times when I was young. I left both marriages, thinking I wanted something else, something better. At the time I found my husbands lacking in some way, but like you, the years made me appreciate that they were good men. They both deserved better than what I offered at the time.

I did stay in touch with both of them, and eventually great affection grew between us. They have both died now and I miss them.

Thank you for this Father's Day post. Fathers...that can be a complicated topic, one that you have treated here with compassion and grace and humor and heartbreak, for him and for yourself.

Dee said...

Dear DJan, thank you for sharing this story of your relationship with your first husband, of the graciousness and love of your son Chris, and of your gratitude for you life and all that has been part of it. Thank you for a lovely, evocative posting. Peace.

Trish MacGregor said...

I really hope you write a book at some point, DJan. Your Sunday posts are poignant, emotional, often raw. You're a wonderful writer!

Glenda Beall said...

I like this father's day post. I like the tribute to both your former husband and to your dear son, Chris. If only we had known what we know now. My husband had an Austen Healy. They are small and I can't imagine having sex in one. No wonder it was over quickly! Thanks for sharing this touching story. You are the best blogger and I always enjoy your posts.

Angela said...

What a wonderful tribute to the father of your children!

R's Rue said...

Blessings.

Mina Jankovic said...

Beautiful post, dear! I like your blog.
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David M. Gascoigne, said...

That is a pretty frank account to share with the entire world and you must have thought about it before publishing. I have a firm belief that there is no such thing as an afterlife so it is really important that you made the reconciliation when you did. We can all live with regret if we choose to, but it really doesn’t do any good. You can learn from the past, but you certainly can’t change it. Best wishes for the future.