How to grieve?
Ruth Newhall’s 12-year-old daughter had died. Letters and cards of condolence were pouring in.
As a reply to one, she wrote: “Thank you for your thoughts. But we don’t think that way. We think about how lucky we were to have Penny for as long as we did.”
That’s my mother in law, Jon’s mother, talking. Sixty-six years ago.
Her daughter Penny — my husband’s little sister — died in 1955. Penny was Christmas caroling in the Berkeley hills with friends when a truck’s brakes gave way. The truck struck Penny. She died instantly.
Ruth outlived her daughter by nearly a half century. I rarely heard her talk about Penny.
So I first learned of Ruth’s thoughts on grief when I got a call the other day from Dave Nelson, an old family friend.
Dave — who turned 100 last year — was calling to offer his condolences on Jon’s death. But he wanted to tell me what Ruth had said so many years ago: “We were lucky to have Penny for as long as we did.”
How to grieve? I dunno. I’m not my brave mother-in-law. I’m not ready to give up on being broken-hearted, outraged, despondent, horrified by the sudden death of my husband.
Yes. I was lucky to have Jon. But I thought I would have more of him. If Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter are still holding hands well into their 90s, why aren’t Jon and I?
Jon’s not here any more. But, thanks to a phone call from Dave, Jon’s mother is here for a while, talking to me.
Another story about the inimitable Dave Nelson at “Widowed: Life Goes on and Some People Like It.”
Your mother-in-law was indeed a wise woman, but your heartbreak is also reasonable. So, go ahead and scream and rant as long as you feel the need. The absence sounds crushing. Know that joy will return in beautiful memories of your life with Jon and in knowing that so many people love you and support you. God bless Jon’s mother for leaving this piece of wisdom. She didn’t come by it easily, I’m sure.
According to Jon, the other notable thing my mother-in-law said about Penny was this, on the way home from the cemetery: “I’m glad we spoiled her.” And, now, I wish I’d spoiled Jon just a little bit more. Maybe let him have his turn at the front section of the newspaper a few minutes earlier each morning.
A lovely perspective the life of a lost loved one from your mother in law which I will remember. Yes it pays to be lucky in you relationships.
Thanks for the story, Meredith. .
I was lucky to find myself the Newhall family. They were and are as lively and contentious as the Falconers I grew up with. So it was a pretty good fit.
Ladies, great memories. Anybody recognize the thread that’s holding it all together? …. Love, and what a mighty string that is. XOXO David
So true!
I think about Penny often. Her death haunts me, scares me for many different reasons, reasons that keep changing as I get older. I wish I could talk to Ruth about it. I hope they are together somewhere.
I hope so, too.
Before I even got to the 6th paragraph above, I self-telegraphed: “that’s the same story in the same words my dad told me as I interviewed him about the great, the important and forming moments of his now 101 years.” So today you intertwine 3 greats in my life: Ruth, Jon, and my Dad. I love them all. Hugs and thank you!
Oh, my gosh. It’s so remarkable that he has told that story to you as well as to me. Another Ruth Newhall quote that I like to repeat is, “In our family, anything worth doing is worth overdoing.” That kinda describes the very energetic Newhalls. And it’s so like Ruth to put something like that into a few words.
I did not know this was a Newhall propensity, to overdo things, but it explains so much.
I remember when he met you and fell in love with you.
Remember, it only hurts so bad because your marriage was so wonderful.
Those were the days. It seemed like we still had forever before us.
You’re such a great writer! Take as much time as you need. Scream, rant, cry, swear; It’s all appropriate! But don’t let it take you or your presence. ♥️
❤❤
Hey! I didn’t know I could use emojis on this site. Thanks for the heads-up, Diane.