My husband’s cousin died last weekend. He was a bit older but I used to love listening to them talk. They talked mostly about sausage and country hams. They would reminisce about the way their fathers used to do it and compare Jimmy’s smoked sausage and country hams to what they had when they were growing up.
Donald, and his wife, Mary Ruth, had been in our lives for years and served as surrogate grandparents to our children.
Mary Ruth died several years ago.
Donald was lost.
He would tell me about the day that she died. It seemed that he would put her into every conversation that we had. I know that he talked to her every day. She had been cremated and her remains were on his mantle. He kept them there because he knew that one day he would join her there. Maybe not on his mantle but in heaven.
I never knew a man who loved a woman more.
That’s saying something because my daddy loved my mama something fierce. I know that Jimmy loves me and I pray when it’s all said and done they can say the same thing about us. Maybe not in those words.
Donald loved Mary Ruth. From the time I knew him it seemed as though he laid down his life for her. Of course, he was retired when I first knew him. I’m sure when there were children to raise and crops to put out and a shift to work she didn’t get top priority. But when I was paying attention, she did. Everything revolved around her.
Not just her though. This man was so proud of his family. He was proud of his children, his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren. It wasn’t that he thought they could do no wrong. He knew they could. But he loved them just the same. He went to every event they were in, from ball games to concerts to events in general. When you saw him he listened to you until you brought up one of the kids. Then he would make sure you knew about their latest accomplishment. He wouldn’t brag but if you brought it up then he would make sure you knew.
The man loved his church. He would go to Mass every day he was able. He would get there early so that he could pray the rosary. He would come to the rosary that we have weekly outside at the grotto. A lot of times he would sit in the car but you knew he was there, praying along with us. Every day when I pray the rosary I end with my own litany of saints. One of those is Mary Ruth. I ask her to help me to value my family above all else. I think I’ll include Donald in there too.
Donald was anxiously awaiting his 14th great-grandchild. He knew that the baby was a boy and they were going to name him after Donald’s father, Ross. He couldn’t wait for that baby to be born. The last few weeks of his life he hadn’t been feeling well. He mentioned to his daughter that he hoped he would be around when baby Ross was born. When I heard that Donald had died I was glad for him. He missed Mary Ruth so much I knew he would be so excited to see her. I knew he would be so glad to see his son, Bart, who had died suddenly a few years ago. I knew it would be hard on everyone else but wonderful for him.
Then I heard the rest of the story. Baby Ross made his appearance right before midnight on February 29th. Donald died an hour and a half later on March 1st. He didn’t get to meet that baby boy but he made sure he was around for the birth of that baby. I’m also sure they passed on Donald’s way up to heaven.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.