One Day It All Came Together

One day it all came together. That day was a warm October day in 1978 in Dayton, Tennessee--the day Larry’s father was buried. Or rather, the day of his funeral—he wasn’t actually buried; he was cremated after the funeral (open casket, of course, this WAS the South), and 5 years later his ashes were scattered on the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. But that’s another story, and not directly relevant to this one.

This story is about how one day it all came together for Larry—the story of his family—his father, his mother (who was his father’s second wife), his sister, and his two half-sisters and two half-brothers whose mother was R.O. (or Jack, or Ruie—he went by several names)’s first wife.
First, a little background. Larry was my husband (now ex-husband) for 30 years. The number of years isn’t particularly relevant, either, except that I lived with this story for a long time—up close and personal as they say. And Larry’s oldest half-brother was 16 years older than Larry. Now this IS relevant, as you’ll see, as in 16 long years, a lot can happen in a family. Ups and downs, joys and sorrows, planned events and surprises. There can be deceptions, lies, half-truths and whole truths—how do you tell them apart later?

OK. The scenario is that Larry’s father died—the how’s and why’s is yet another story we won’t go into—and the family gathered at his parents’ home—a tiny apartment in Dayton, Tennessee, where he had been living for a few years because it was close to where his mother’s sister lived (the two of them—his mother and her sister--fought all the time, but that’s not germane to this tale.) There’s a crowd assembled—the four half-brothers and sisters (sans spouses, except for Jack, who brought his wife Shirley), Larry and me and Jonathan, aged 9 months, his sister Judy and one of her daughters. Plus assorted relatives of Larry’s mother (who’s Larry’s father’s second wife—are you with me still? I know all these names and relationships are a bit complicated. That may be why it never came together for Larry until the funeral.)

There’s another little child there—the two-year-old son of somebody whose mother is somebody who is the daughter of Jane’s sister, making the kid Larry’s third or fourth or n to the 5th power cousin. Plus the somebodies I just mentioned and a couple of other adults whom I never did place on the geaneology chart. AND cousin Peggy and her husband Ed who drove up from Florence, Alabama. Peggy is the (adopted) daughter of another one of Jane’s sisters. Peggy and Larry both comment on how close Peggy has always been to Larry’s mother and father. Larry says Peggy is his favorite cousin (and he has quite a few to choose from—don’t make me try to figure out how many).

Anyhow, there’s quite a hubbub of talking and laughing and meanwhile Jonathan took his very first steps, by himself without holding on, right in the middle of the chaos. I might have been the only one to have seen it. Mothers tend to keep their eyes glued to pre-toddlers, but again, that’s not the point of this story. Let’s just say I’ve never forgotten the moment, and no one else even remembers it.

I don’t recall all that went on during that afternoon and evening, but I do remember saying to Larry’s (whole) sister Judy, at one point, “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of grieving going on.” And she replied, “We all did our grieving for Daddy years ago.” I could go on and on here, but I won’t digress any further.

Late in the evening, Peggy (the favorite cousin) announces that she and Ed are now leaving to drive back to Florence. They aren’t going to stay over for the funeral to be held tomorrow morning. I forget why she said they had to leave.

So, next day we all get dressed and head over to the funeral parlor (or was it a small church? I know a Baptist minister presided, and Larry said the preacher didn’t know RO, and the man he described bore no resemblance to the man Larry knew as Daddy. Anyway, they probably were in a funeral HOME, I should have said, not funeral PARLOR. I’m giving away my age saying funeral PARLOR.
Everyone else went inside and Jonathan and I cruised around the perimeter of the property on the sidewalk, he sometimes riding in his flimsy little portable stroller, sometimes pushing it, sometimes walking holding my hand while I pushed the stroller with the other hand. This is why we weren’t inside. No way this kid could have sat still and been quiet. Not to mention that I didn’t want him to be curious, or maybe traumatized by seeing Grandpa laid out in the casket, looking like a wax museum version of himself.

After what seemed like two million years, the service was over and everyone dispersed. Larry, his half-brother Jack and wife Shirley, and Baby Jonathan and I all went to lunch together. On the ride to the restaurant (my little family drove our own car by ourselves) Larry said he’d been thinking. “I think Peggy is my sister”, he said. My WHOLE sister.” And then he listed off a bunch of clues, he called them, of things his mother had said over the years, especially when he was really little, that never made total sense at the time. But, he said, “Sitting there at Daddy’s funeral, trying not to listen to that fuckhead preacher who didn’t know shit about who he was talking about, it all just came together. Peggy is younger than Betty, my youngest half-sister, and she’s older than Judy, my whole sister—her age fits."

“Larry,” I said, your imagination is running away with you. Don’t you think your Mother would have told you by now—she only had 35 years to get around to it.” “You don’t know my family,” he said.
We arrived at the restaurant and gathered out front  before going inside. Jack (remember him?--a half-brother, and 16 years older than Larry) hung back to stand beside me and said “Why is Larry asking questions about Peggy? What does he want to do with this?" “He has this cockamamie idea,” I said. “He gets this way sometimes.” We left it there as we all went into the restaurant.

As we were polishing off the apple pie and coffee Jack said, just sort of out into the air to no one in particular, “Larry’s been asking about Peggy.” Shirley looked a little puzzled. “Tell everyone what you told me, Larry,” Jack said.
“Well, this might sound crazy,” Larry said, looking right at Jack, his older half-brother, “but I just have this strong feeling that Peggy is our sister.” “Why?” Jack said.

“I just was thinking about Peggy during the awful service for Daddy, and wondering why she didn’t stay over for today, and then thinking back over memories of Peggy and especially odd things Mother said at various times, and they all make sense if Peggy is our sister. Plus, seeing Peggy and Doris (one of Larry's half-sisters) together for the first time--well, they look just alike.”

You could hear a pin drop. Maybe people at other tables were also waiting to hear what was said next. I sure was. There was a long silence. And then Jack said, with his usual stutter “Uh, uh, un, well, yes. Jane had Peggy while Daddy was still married to MY Mother. And Jane gave the baby to her sister who couldn’t have any children.”

Again a long silence, and then the questions broke out. So when did Daddy and Elizabeth get divorced? Why did he marry our Mother five years later? Why didn’t anyone ever tell? Does Peggy know? So many questions, and only a few answers, because, of course, of the only two people who really knew all the answers, one was dead and the other was still keeping the secret.

But at least for the moment, Larry had the satisfaction of knowing that, for him, it had all come together.