My husbands brothers like to laugh. They are story tellers, romancers, beer drinking buddies and friends. They have a deep and personal relationship with each other that bridges time, obligations, responsibilities and deep pain. If you were to ask them they wouldn't be able to tell you how and why this gathering started..but Marty could.
Twelve years ago my husband stood in the back of a Catholic Church in Belle Plaine and grew up. Marty's sister Terri had lost her battle with cancer. She was only 43. Terri is the mother of 14 children. She is my husbands younger sister by a year. She was my husbands friend, playmate and the first female in the family. He loved her..deeply. Terri fought her cancer for many years and the end was slow and yet too fast in coming. I think Marty thought he was prepared to say good-bye. We showed up at the church, we were surrounded by his family, we stood with our children and waited our turn to walk to the front. At the last pew, Marty turned to me and came undone. He didn't realize how final death is, none of us did. Since I was 15 I watched this family interact. They were like all siblings, they thought they were invincible. On that day we all realized. We aren't. Marty made a vow that day and for 13 years he broke the vow only one time. He vowed that at least once each year he would gather his brothers together in Terri's name. Poker night is Terri's night.
Then there is this: In 2007 there was no poker weekend. Mike died and for a time everything we were died too. By 2008 a new vow had taken shape. Marty would hold poker weekend again because to not hold it would have disappointed Mike. The same rule applied....Clear your schedule and show up. There was one other major change that year. Marty's Dad was invited too. Marty's Dad was like many men of his generation. He was a farmer, a hard worker and a man of few words. He was not prone to acts of affection, there was a definite line in his mind about men's work and women's work and the two did not cross. He set very few rules and the only one that mattered was no matter where you were or what time you got home ,you had better be milking cows at 5am. Marty's Dad never personally made a phone call. If he wanted someone called he told Marty's Mom to do it.
This is what I know: When Terri died, Marty's Dad was still the man I first met. He grieved quietly and privately. When Mike died, Marty's Dad grieved openly and without reserve. The first phone call we ever received directly from him came in those first early days of December when he left a message on the answering machine asking that we take his cemetery plot in the small rural cemetery where he built his life to bury our beloved Mike. His voice on the machine is so broken and so raw, I unplugged the machine from the wall and packed it away.
Marty will continue to have Poker weekend until the day he dies. It will always be Terri's weekend and it will always be hosted by Marty and Mike. Marty's Dad came this year as he has every year since Mike died. He is showing the signs of a long life. There is forgetfulness and disorientation, but he still comes.
Family get togethers, family re-unions, moments that we gather, they aren't always so much for those of us that are here as they are for those of us who are gone.
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| My sister-in-law Isn't she lovely |
Terri left a huge family legacy. She is the mother of 14 children. Adults she would be so very proud of. She is the sister of 11. They will never forget. Marty is going to see to it.
There is a line from a country song "it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you, it's what you leave behind you when you go."
till next time
