I sit listening to the timbre of my father-in-law’s voice. His voice is low and the cadence is nearly monotone. He is telling me the story of how he and Rick’s Mom met, fell in love, and got married. He is nearly 81 years of age, but as he weaves his story, the years slip from his face and I see the younger man he was at one time. It’s a great story, and one that should really be written down or at the very least, recorded. He won’t be writing it down as he has macular degeneration and is slowly going blind. He sees enough right now to get by with a little help with the details of daily life. He won’t be reading this blog entry unless his wife reads it to him.

This man and I have not always seen eye to eye. I have been known on occasion to argue and bicker with him, making for fractious relations. Over the years he has mellowed, and so have I. In the past my eyes use to glaze over whenever he started on one of his stories. Okay, yeah, whatever. That was my attitude. Maybe I’ve gained maturity. Maybe more tolerance. Or maybe I’ve just come to appreciate the stories more and how they are told. Whatever it is I found a new appreciation for him tonight.

I caught glimpses of the man he was before I knew him. I liked what I saw. Maybe I never took the time to see it before. Maybe he didn’t allow me to see it. Regardless of the reason, it’s a good thing. 

Note: I wrote this when Rick’s parents were visiting us back in October.  I was ready for bed that night, but I felt so strongly the need to write my feelings down that I went downstairs, brought up Rick’s laptop and wrote these words. It was meant to be a private post, almost a diary entry if you will, just for me. When Rick read it he thought I should share it.  I was not sure I was going to share it with the blog, but I have now decided I should. Tonight on my father-in-law’s 81st birthday, I offer you this private entry in honor of Vaughn’s 81st.