Mary Jo has been happily married for 25 years – mother of three daughters and one granddaughter. Aside from her family, Mary Jo works part time, loves to read, travel, bike and boat. She has wanted to write a book since age 10 when she began reading the Nancy Drew series.
A Sign from Cal
2009 winnerMy father-in-law, Cal, came to live with us on the day of Millie’s funeral. He couldn’t bear to go back to the house where together they’d raised their family, where they’d had holiday parties and celebrated milestones, where they’d fought and loved. Without her it was just a house, no longer a home.
My husband, Dick, and his siblings, went through the house at their father’s request to take anything having sentimental value. They took odd pieces of furniture, jewelry and photo albums. Millie was a gardener and there were many plants. Patty took the cactus and ferns. Dick took the hibiscus and oleander. They took little mementos of their childhoods and found homes for her beloved cats. With heavy hearts, they shut the door to their home and their past.
Cal was lonely because he missed Millie, his wife of 50-plus years. They had their ups and downs, ins and outs, love and laughs. In his wallet he still carried the button that she lost from her jacket on their first date. At the age of 78 Millie was still youthful and vibrant. She still shopped and gossiped. She still went to work at the real estate office on Saturday and to church on Sunday. The only time she’d ever been in a hospital was during visiting hours.
So yes, part of Cal was lonely because he missed her and part of him was resentful because when Millie unexpectedly died first, it was like she one-upped him.
Everyone knew that Cal would be the first to go. With all of his heath problems, high blood pressure, previous heart surgeries, it was a given. And he was ready to go. He was ready for the afterlife. He believed in reincarnation and looked forward to the next step.
Cal and I had discussions about the future– his future– and the other side. He read Shirley MacLaine’s books and wanted to visit the ancient Inca civilization of Machu Picchu.
He believed in previous lives and lives to come. He knew in his heart of hearts that life on earth was just one of many. He was not a religious man, but he was an extremely spiritual man.
Cal stayed with us for a few months, but it was hard on him. Dick and I both had demanding, full-time jobs and our three daughters with their activities were just as demanding. Sooner or later our family had to get back to reality as we knew it—earning a living, taking care of responsibilities, work, school, laundry and grocery shopping. Cal was alone during the day with nothing but memories.
In the end Cal went to live with Patty, his youngest child and only daughter. She was a stay-at-home mom with two young children and a very supportive husband. She nurtured Cal and took care of him until he died in his sleep after telling her that Millie was waiting for him.
Cal’s funeral, on a cold December day, was sad for all of us. We were all quiet with our own thoughts. Mine were that I should have asked him for a sign. With all of his beliefs in ever-after and the continuation of life-after-death, Cal, if anyone, would have agreed to give a sign. A simple gesture that everything in heaven really was good. I should have asked him, because Cal, if anyone, would have been happy to prove himself right. Of all the things we talked about, we never talked about a sign.
Walking upstairs to change my clothes, I passed by the hibiscus. On this cold winter day the summer-blooming plant had one beautiful blossom. I was stunned. Yesterday there was no flower, just green leaves. I examined the plant for other soon-to-be flowers, the slightest little mound of a bud; there was none. Today it was showing off one bright orange flower, only today, the day of Cal’s funeral, the day his body was buried, the day his soul was laid to rest, or was it?
Thanks for the sign, Cal.