Five years

Five years ago tonight I was in our Dodge minivan with our little boys, ages 3 and 18 months, riding quietly while my husband drove. It was late at night, dark, and bitter cold. We left our home in Rochester, Minnesota in the evening, after picking up a new "big boy" bed for our little one, and drove to my brother's home in Alexandria, Minnesota where we would arrive at 2 am, crash for a few hours, and get on the road again.

Our destination? Devils Lake, North Dakota, the town my husband and I both grew up in. The reason? Well, the worst reason, I guess -- my father-in-law had died and we had to get there so my husband could help plan the funeral. We got up in the morning, finished the drive, and I dropped him off at the funeral home. He was only a few minutes late.

Gary had been ill for years -- he had been a volunteer firefighter and was injured in a fire in 1979. Years later blood clots that formed from that injury would break apart and enter his bloodstream, killing him slowly, robbing him of his dignity along the way.

I have known my in-laws since I was a child. My husband and I were best friends in high school and I spent hours at his house. His dad would tell me raunchy jokes just to see me blush. When Rob had a party, we all had to pass through the living room on our way to the basement. His parents would be sitting there, a card table set up with a jigsaw puzzle on it. In order to go downstairs we had to add a piece (or 3, or 5) to the puzzle. No pieces added, no party downstairs. I often think that was so clever of them -- they talked to us then, found out what we were up to, who liked whom, which teachers were cool, and all of the other stuff that made up our complicated teenage lives.

The first night I (ahem) stayed overnight at their house I was 21. I had been in the Army and came home again to figure out a game plan. Rob was home from college and we ran into each other at the bar. I left my shoes on the rug by the front door, and in the morning Rob's mom said, "I thought that was you, Jennifer. We heard you giggling when you came in last night, and I saw the red shoes by the door." Gary just smiled. He didn't have to say a word.

What a difficult month that was -- Gary's funeral was set for Saturday. My mom and dad had been planning a trip to Arkansas to visit my paternal grandfather, who was not well. At my urging, they went, missing the funeral.

Just 2 1/2 weeks later, my grandpa died. My husband had gone back to Rochester to work, and I had stayed in Devils Lake to help my mother-in-law with Christmas shopping, baking, and the other things that you just don't feel like doing when you've just lost your husband of more than 30 years. I filled in for my mom at her job while she and my dad were gone for the funeral. (Okay, I answered phones -- she runs the world in the legal office she works in, and I know nothing. I take really good phone messages, though.)

We got through Christmas, though I'm still not sure how, and found our way back to Rochester at the end of December. I have never been so glad to see a new year as I was that year. I am still so grateful for my friends in Rochester -- we had built up a strong community and they supported us so much that month. My friends fed Rob, brought him Subway gift cards and warm meals, called, emailed, and sent cards, and lifted us up in a thousand ways.

I felt their prayers, their hopes, their wishes for us that dark winter, just like I feel my father-in-law's presence daily. He is here. He would never leave his grandchildren, his children, his beloved wife.

Five years ... a long time, and yet, it feels like yesterday.
Miss you Gary.