Off Topic: February Was No Fun II, or, The Death of My Father’s Widow

This is apropos of nothing but I don’t think my blogging was up to par in February or parts of March and these notes on what was happening during that time are, in part, an explanation of that, to myself as much as to anyone who might read them.

On Valentine’s Day my father’s widow’s daughter called to tell me that my father’s widow had died. She was elderly and not in good health so it was not unexpected. Nor were we particularly close. In fact it would be fair to say that there were not any sincerely warm feelings on either side. Had anyone else in the family kept in touch with her I probably would not have. No one else did, though, so out of respect to my father I called or wrote her on Christmas and her birthday. Given that she was my father’s widow for more years than she was his wife it is likely that I bought her more birthday cards than he did. She seemed to appreciate the calls and cards and we were cordial and at ease with each other.

Early on I would send small mail order food packages, crumpets, or crackers with sausage and cheese. You know the sort of thing. She used to get together with a group of women she worked with at the cannery once in a while. I thought there might be bragging rights in inviting over her peeps and setting out what I had sent with a mention that her late husband’s daughter had sent it. Or maybe the packages went straight into the trash. No telling. As she became older and more house bound I would send gift cards for the local grocery store that had a deli and delivered.

Her daughter needed some information for the obituary and also, I think, to see if I would let my siblings and other family members know. She accepted my offer to do so quickly. It was an opportunity to talk with an uncle I hadn’t spoken with in some time. We talked about my children and his children and grandchildren. It was good to catch up. We also talked about the war. He was in the Air Force as a young man and one of his daughters was in the Coast Guard before starting a family. My father and one of my siblings were career Army so when we speak military matters often come up. It was a good conversation. I fielded a few calls from extended relatives who saw the obit and thought it was my mother. No, I would explain, she was his first wife, this lady was his third.

The terminology in such matters gets complex. My mother is my mother. My father’s second wife was my stepmother, and then my former stepmother. My father’s widow was originally my father’s third wife, then his widow and now I can feel the cards shift back, with me referring to her as his third wife again.

Not to be callous but one reason I stayed in touch with her was because she would occasionally find a box of his papers or some family photos and send them to me; I would redistribute them to whatever relative they were photos of, etc. If I had not kept in touch with her she probably would have thrown them out. I expected more such things might surface after her death. Sure enough in late February her daughter called to say as she was cleaning out her mom’s apartment she found a box of my dad’s pictures. Could she send them to me? Absolutely I said and we told a few stories about our parents. I had one about her mom that made her laugh out loud. She had one about my dad that did the same for me. It was good to tell each other these stories as neither of us have anyone else to tell them to.

She and I have each other’s addresses and phone numbers but whether we will keep in touch or not is uncertain. My address book keeps getting thinner, with more and more addresses crossed out.