Jim's emotions tossed around like a wind-blown kite stuck on a power line.
Will, his Father-in-law died. Jim enjoyed closeness with him more than with his real dad for more than twenty years. Towards the end, weekly, the eighty-year-old man, propped up with pillows, in his king-sized bed, spent an hour and a half with Jim. Usually on Fridays.
That took place, in the last two months. Before that, they'd play chess, and harmonicas together and go for rides in Jim's sports car or discuss theology.
During this final season, the old man stayed put, not leaving his bed. He waited for the sweet chariot. Any hour, its arrival eagerly sought by Jim's substitute dad.
It helped Jim's father-in-love remain mentally alert when they took turns reciting quotes. In their work, they frequently spoke before crowds. They often used quotations to enliven their public comments before others.
In Will's bedroom, with no audience, the men drew from their mental library.
"I need to get out of that rocking chair," he added as an afterthought.
" I need to get out of that rocking chair.' Who is that quote from? I never heard it before," Jim teased.
"Are you worried about your health?" asked the son-in-law.
"Yes, soon I'm embarking on a new journey," said Will.
"Recovery slaps the hands of anxiety. It makes it lose the nasty grip nervousness has upon our soul. Personal growth involves placing healthy principles above the vulner-able parts of our personality.
"When this happens, dread is banished,'' Jim replied, revealing his strong memory with this lengthy quote.
"Success depends not merely in how well you do in the things you en-joy, but in how conscien-tiously you perform those duties that you don't. John Maxwell, Developing the Leader Within You," the reclining man retorted.
Still competitive, the old man revealed his strong memory, too, while changing the subject.
"Acting like a victim is a choice, not a destiny," Jim replied. He winced with regret after saying that, hoping Will did not take the quote personally, that Jim saw him playing the victim role.
"Forgiveness is not forgetting, it is letting go of the hurt," answered back Jim's substitute father.
Will held Jim's hand. The visitor sat on the edge of the death bed, next to the father that was the additional prize Jim received when marrying this man's youngest daughter who had naturally blonde hair. The hour-long visit sped by like the wisps of smoke fleeing when a candle is snuffed out.
When Jim was around, the lingering emptiness now plaguing his worn-out father evaporated like a pool of water in a midafternoon desert. A sigh of satisfaction from the old man let Jim know how much Will liked being with him. It was like the old man won the lottery.
The younger man heard Wilbur's labored breathing as a pause of warm silence, lasting a couple of minutes, lingered between them. It was a quiet moment only those comfortable with each other enjoyed. And then Will punctured it.
Never did Jim expect how that worked out three weeks later.
To be continued in an upcoming post.
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