Two Saturdays ago, my younger daughter and I hustled through Concourse A of Chicago's Midway Airport. There was a long stretch of rectangular windows to our left, and the weather outside looked crisp but clear, with no snow, sleet or "wintry mix"—that vague but unsettling winter-weather phrase.
I let out a relieved breath. For January in the Midwest, this traveling day was moving along smoothly.
I noticed what we were looking for: the women's restroom. "Here we go, honey," I said, gesturing.
Anna pointed to another sign. "Animal Relief Area," she read aloud. "That's probably where pets go to the potty."
I stopped in my tracks, and laughed. "Honey, you're right, but how did you know that?"
Anna gave me one of her million-dollar smiles, dimples and all. "I didn't know, Mom. I just guessed my best guess."
I hugged her...then we hurried into the restroom.
Afterward, back in the concourse, we bumped into Stanton and Grace. Their mission (unlike Anna's and mine) had been to find lunch for all of us.
"I wonder what they'll get," I'd said to Anna.
Anna had shrugged, unconcerned. "Grace knows what I like, and Dad knows what you like."
True. Whatever they picked out, we'd be fine (and fed).
I just guessed my best guess.
On Sunday of that week, Stanton's dad passed away. Drake is at peace now, which is a mercy. But this also has been a bittersweet time.
When Stanton told me his dad had passed away—he didn't tell me, actually. He just looked at me, and nodded.
I hugged him.
These past couple of weeks, I did my best to be for Stanton what he's always been for me, in the nearly 15 years we've been married and the 6 years before that: even-keeled, dependable, a steady presence.
Drake was a really sweet father-in-law to me. I first met him during Stanton's and my sophomore year of college. I met Stanton's mom then too.
From that very first day (a sunny day in Richmond, Va.—I remember it clearly), Stanton's parents were both warmhearted...welcoming...fun.
I always really enjoyed chatting with Drake. He was an easy person to talk with, and very good at telling stories. As a lifelong storyteller myself, I appreciated the way Drake had with words, as well as his penchant, here and there, for poetic license.
"Dad," Stanton would say, shaking his head as Drake added a little color in his recollection of a family memory, or slightly exaggerated the way something had happened.
Drake would respond with a trifecta of simultaneous gestures: small shrug, raised eyebrows, mischievous smile. And, always, an equally mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
I loved it. I loved all of it: the stories—the poetic license—the twinkle in his eyes.
...the stories—the poetic license—the twinkle in his eyes.
During my first family trip with Stanton and the Leddys (a kayaking adventure—Stanton and I were still in college), I played foosball one evening with Stanton, one of his brothers and Drake. We were all still getting to know one another, and they didn't know I'm a fantastic foosball player—at least, I was back then. I won, easily.
Stanton was shocked. I don't remember exactly what I said or did after the game, but I probably smiled and said something like, "Good game." Definitely wouldn't have rubbed it in.
What I do remember is Drake's reaction to my resounding win. He smiled his mischievous smile. "Melissa is a velvet hammer," he told his youngest son.
Velvet hammer. I don't know if that's true or not, but it was a fun moment, and it's stuck with me.
Later, before a family wedding—for all I know, it was mine and Stanton's—again, the memories get a little hazy after 21 years—but we were at a wedding, and Drake joked that his tuxedo was a "gentleman's cut." I had never heard that term before (kind of like I'd never heard "velvet hammer" before), but based on Drake's impish demeaner, I guessed that "gentleman's cut" rivaled "slim fit" on the spectrum of men's suiting styles.
(It did. 
)
Even later, Drake became "D-Daddy" when his four children began having children of their own. Stanton and I became parents in 2011, to Grace. My sister flew in to meet her first niece, and Drake and Charlotte were the ones who picked Jenna up at the airport.
Everyone in my family, from my sister to my brothers to my parents, enjoyed chatting with Drake whenever they saw him too. He was friendly, witty, full of life. He also was so supportive and encouraging of Stanton and me.
Many other family members and friends knew Drake better than I did. I knew him well enough, though, to know he would have loved the way his loved ones came together two weeks ago to remember him, to celebrate his life.
Two Saturdays ago, our flight from Chicago Midway left on time. We walked into our home in New York around 6 p.m. We had been gone, unexpectedly, that whole week, and I was touched by the way so many of our neighbors and friends helped us out—putting mail and packages on the front porch, bringing food over that evening, dropping off cards. (One of Anna's friends wrote in a homemade welcome-back card, "We did not play tag that much because we missed you!" Made all of us smile.)
I also really appreciated that my manager at the library, as well as Stanton's company, totally understood that we were away from work for a while. Both organizations were extremely kind and flexible. When I shared this thought with some friends, they said, "Well, that's basic human decency." Still...how uplifting to see in practice that there is basic human decency out there.
One of the things Stanton inherited from his dad is an amazing talent for cooking. I prepare more of our family meals than Stanton does, but he actually is a much better, much more natural chef than I am.
Before we flew out to San Antonio, Stanton made a delicious dinner for the girls and me. The main course was a CAB steak that he briefly pan-fried before finishing it in the oven. We had a little bit of red wine left in a bottle—enough for two glasses—the perfect flavor combination for the steak. I gave Grace and Anna juice boxes, and after we said grace but before we dug in to dinner, we toasted Drake (a.k.a. Dad, a.k.a. D-Daddy).
If Drake had been there, I think he would have liked our red wine/juice box toast. I think it would have brought a smile to his face, a twinkle to his eyes. Almost certainly, he would have joined in.
That's my best guess, anyway.
Love you, Drake.
Photo credit: Pixabay
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