Walter

I was not happy when my mom married Walter. There were lots of reasons for my unhappiness about this marriage, all revolving around me. My mom had only been widowed for 15 months, I was still struggling with grief over my dad’s sudden death, Scott’s father died suddenly 6 months after my father so he was grieving, and we had two young babies that kept us busy. We were not in any mood for more major life changes. In my childish mind, I saw this as an attempt at a “daddy replacement.” Walt was a widower, age 70 to my mom’s 49, making him 21 years older than my mother. I thought he’d be better suited as my grandfather.

Walt had one daughter; 9 years younger than my mother, and Ellen had three children. She was unhappy about this union, too, but living in another state, she could not be as vocal as I was. And I let my mother know at every opportunity that I didn’t want him in our family, living in my father’s house - the house I grew up in, being around my mother, or me or my husband or my kids or any of my relatives. And there were about 1000 more reasons I was not happy about this marriage. But there was really only one – he was not my beloved father.

I begged my mother not to marry Walter. “He’s so old!” I said. I told her he was so ancient that he’d be dead in five years. My mom replied that she needed to come home to someone, cook dinner for someone, argue with someone, be happy with someone, think of and take care of someone other than herself. It was about what she could do for Walt, not what he could do for her, and certainly not what he could do for me. Her life needed to be about being responsible for someone besides herself. If he only lived five years she’d be thinking of someone other than herself and be happy for five years, she said. Many years later, while talking to a minister friend about this dark time, he asked if I ever saw the goodness of my mom’s heart; she needed to give to someone, not get from someone.

I made my mother so nervous about this pending wedding that anytime the subject came up I’d cry and carry on so bad that she’d become upset and we’d have to change the subject to something more neutral. She told me she was getting married and that was it. There was no more discussion until the day of the wedding when she called to see if Scott and I were coming. Since our communication about this subject was like a land mine she’d neglected to tell me when the wedding was and I, of course, thought if I didn’t have a date and time, it would never be able to take place. She said it would be at the church that evening right after her work. So with an hour to get a babysitter, get my husband home from work, be ready, and make the one hour drive in rush hour traffic, we missed the wedding. I discovered that she never forgave me until we talked about it when I brought her to Pittsburgh and 36 years had gone by.

Interestingly, it was my father’s family that first welcomed Walt into our family. My dad’s four sisters and his brother didn’t want my mother to be alone. They adored Walt and every so often, over the next 33 years, my mom and I would ask each other if he knew who these relatives were, his wife’s former husband’s sisters, brother, nieces and nephews. Of course he did and he loved them. He often told me that he knew my father’s family was exceptional and wonderful. My mom’s family accepted Walt, too. I was the hold-out.

It took some time, but this wonderful man just patiently let me work it all out, never forcing himself, always respecting my memories, always so loving with me, my husband, and my children. I slowly began to see that he was giving my mother back her life. And my kids ended up with a loving, attentive, grandfather. It didn’t matter to them that he was not biologically their grandfather. He was the only grandpap they would know and in their hearts he was always magnificent.

Walter Ward was a loving, fascinating, patient, talented man who never tried to be my father. He helped me hold my dad close in my heart and gave our children what our fathers could not. He became the grandfather they deserved. He became my mother’s loving husband, best friend, and our family's salvation. He helped us make us whole again.

On July 18, 2004, Walter Ward died at the age of 104. He far surpassed the 70 years I predicted and remarkably, was healthy until the last two months of his life. I loved him and I miss him.