In Honor and Remembrance

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.  ~ George Eliot

Something I share with my mom that perhaps most mothers and daughters do not, is that we were both married in the same year. My wedding happened in the spring of 1985; my mother's in December. 

She was his secretary and they had both lost their spouses. His wife had died of cancer in February; her husband of heart disease the following February. Their broken hearts moved them from a professional relationship to a personal one. A friendship was born out of mutual sorrow; their shoulders bore each other's grief. Soon the friendship turned into courtship and then to a commitment to spend the rest of their lives together. Newlyweds in the autumn of their lives. The wedding was a beautiful celebration of a new beginning; a rising above heartache and finding joy once more.

Our lives have all been blessed by his presence, but she has truly benefited more. He has been there for her when she's needed him the most. Not one for living a solitary life, she is so grateful to God for providing this opportunity to experience marital love and companionship for nearly twenty-five years. I am grateful, too. 

And so, after all these many years, when changing diapers and waiting up for self-absorbed teenagers has long past, when perhaps she thought she had nothing left to teach us, I am still learning from her. Through it all - the trips back and forth to the hospital, the sleepless nights, the celebrations of small signs of improvement - she was there - loving Ernest with every ounce of her being, in sickness and in health. Living the promises she made to him the day they were wed. And always displaying an undying hope, always lifting him up and away from despair, letting him know that no matter what, their love for one another was everlasting and nothing – not even grave illness or the threat of death could destroy it. She made every effort to greet him every day, with a smile and a kiss. She dressed well, styled her hair and applied her make-up. She didn’t want him to worry about her … to see her concern or detect any signs of fatigue. He told her over and over again how wonderful she was and how much he adored her. Theirs was truly a love story and to witness such love was truly an honor and a privilege and a lesson to me of what marriage is all about and what it means to lay down one’s life for a friend, even in the autumn of our lives.

To be sure, her grief weighs heavy and by itself is difficult to bear, but love carries her along. Love lifts her on His wings, giving her strength and perseverance and the knowing that she is not alone. And we are with her, too, her children, his children, never ceasing to lover her; never ceasing to pray.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.

And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.

If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, (love) is not pompous, it is not inflated,

it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury,

it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. (1 Cor 13: 1-8)

And now, just a few more words about Papa …

I have realized only this week that I have known Papa Ern longer than I knew my own father. Although, my father passed away 4 months after he and my mother celebrated their 37^th wedding anniversary, I am the number 6 child of 7, and was only 23 ½ when my Dad died in February of 1984.

As I’ve already mentioned, Ernest has been a loving and important member of our family for nearly 25 years. We are all better people for having known him and we are so grateful that he agreed to not only care for our Mom, but to become a surrogate father to seven grown children and their spouses and an endearing grandfather to our children, who would know him affectionately as Papa Ern. He was and is and always will be their Papa.

I asked Kevin and Erin what enters their minds when they think of Papa. They answered, “Beer, hotdogs and the Atlanta Braves.” And, of course, there’s Carolina basketball! He was passionate about sports. Countless times while on the phone with my Mom, I could hear him cheering and yelling in the background. She didn’t have to tell me that he was watching a game – the evidence was loud and clear!

We remember his devotion to his beloved cats and how kind he was to all animals particularly our own pet dogs and cats. He was often amused by their antics and he recognized the beauty in how wonderfully they were made. He appreciated their companionship and was always forgiving of their misdeeds. Even the little birds gathering at the backyard feeder delighted him.

I remember when my sister, Joan and I visited him in the rehab center in late April, he mentioned how he hoped he could spend a little time outside to enjoy a little sunshine. It was very windy that day and he quipped, “I reckon they’d have to tie me to a tree, so I wouldn’t blow away as I’ve lost so much weight.” But he looked great to me that day – that weekend. He was animated and chatty. Telling my sister and me how much he loved us and appreciated our visit. We had the opportunity to let him know, too, how much we loved him. I am grateful for that visit, for that opportunity to bid him farewell.

Papa loved the outdoors, the ocean breeze, the majesty of the Carolina mountains, and his beautiful, well manicured and cared-for gardens. How happy he must now be in the garden of Paradise! I can just hear him calling to my Mom, “Bebe, you should see these gardens – they are magnificent! The flowers are so beautiful.” Perhaps someday when we join him in eternity, we’ll find him there, putzing around among the peonies and camellias, a Budweiser in hand listening to a Braves game.

We will miss you, Papa Ern, but in the deepest recesses of our souls we know that we do not wish you remain with us, but recognize the insatiable longing to be where you are now, our eternal home.

As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God. (Psalm 42)

Our joy, Papa, is in knowing that we will have eternity.

(c) Darby C. Fitzpatrick 2010