Dear Ray,
I am sorry to hear about the passing of your Mother.  My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family during this time.  God Bless

Hello Mom,

I will not be in Grand Rapids one last time to hug you or kiss you to say goodbye.  I have written something for Patti to read to you.   I am going to tell some stories about the summer before Patti and I got married.  They reflect some of my lasting memories of you.  I do not know if you will be able to hear or understand this, but we will both do the best we can.

Do you remember that summer? (I am sure my recollections have gotten better over the years too).  Summer 1978, I had just stumbled through three years of law school and came out to East Lansing to study for the Bar Exam.  After a month of no studying, I called Patti and asked if I could borrow Ray’s old bedroom for the weekend to try to get my studying back on track.  I believe that was the last week in June, just about 33 years to this date.

A week later, I called Patti on Saturday morning to ask if she wanted to go to the movies.  Back before all the computers, we actually looked up in the Dead Tree Daily (newspaper) to find that “The Goodbye Girl” was playing every two hours at a theater, probably on Plainfield Avenue.  I drove out from East Lansing, arriving about an hour before a showing.  Patti and I decided to play a game of Scrabble on the floor in the living room of the house on Sunfish.

The story has been repeated in the family multiple times over the years.  Patti and I played Scrabble games and missed successive showings of the movie for the next five hours or so.  I can only imagine you and Dad sitting at the table in the dining room drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and wondering, what is wrong with those kids?

Now that I am the father of young adult children, I can easily put myself in your shoes back then.  Do you really want to know what Mark and Pat are doing in the living room?  You don’t hear the heavy breathing that would be a dead giveaway.  You do hear a certain amount of silly laughter.  Is anyone capable of sitting on the carpet for hours on end playing Scrabble?  On the other hand, we are talking about Pat…and she had some very strange friends in college.  Ted, just act like this is perfectly normal.
Lo and behold, Mark continues to come out to the country to visit Patti on weekends that summer.  Elaine, who was married about six months to Ray, says to you, they make a cute couple.  I am told you replied, “No, Pat will drive him away, she always does.”  But in spite of your skepticism, you watched it all unfold in front of your eyes.

At some point after that conversation, you were chatting with Patti in the kitchen while she was washing dishes in the sink.  I came in from the living room.  I stood about six feet behind the two of you and stretched my arms out, saying nothing.  Patti continued to wash the dishes.  You say to her in a low voice, “He isn’t moving, he wants your attention.”  Patti replies, “I am well aware of that.  I am ignoring him.”  I was told later that you said to Patti, “Honey, you will never win that battle with a man.  Give him a hug already!”  Presumably at that point, you began to suspect that something was going on between Mark and Pat.

By the end of July, Dad has started picking his tomatoes.  You have bought the thick cut bacon and it is BLT Heaven.  I don’t know for sure, but I suspect you worried that I might be offended about eating pork since I was Jewish.  Patti, having cooked for me and my “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named” roommate in college, knew that I ate pepperoni on pizza and had given me bacon as well.  So, lo and behold, Marge Donley is offering up BLTs in style every time I come to visit.  “You’ve only had two BLTs.  Don’t you want another?”  Sure seemed like you were doing everything you could to grease the skids here, Mom.

Early August that summer, my law school roommate was getting married back in Boston where I had gone to Law School.  I invited Patti to drive out with me to the wedding.  Now there could be no doubt that something was going on with Mark and Pat.  But what?  And when?  Mostly, it appeared the two of them played a lot of Scrabble.

Another month went by.  Patti had gotten a grant to study voice in New York City.  I had to go back home.  I knew I had flunked the Michigan Bar Exam.  Not studying, eating a lot of chili, swimming in a gravel pit several times a week, not going to the review classes…and, oh yes, picking up with a Hobbit in rural Grand Rapids, you begin to see the nature of the problem.  Blame it all on the girl (grin).  But summer was coming to an end and Patti and I were driving to New Jersey.  And a piece of your heart was being ripped out as you saw your Miracle Baby leaving home.

Mom, there are so many ways all of this could have played out differently back then.   When I came into your life 33 years ago, I was so much different than anyone you had known.  You kept waiting for me to say something dumb about blue-collar people or drinking.  You had to have been fearful that Patti would forget where she came from.  And yet, you accepted me into your home and your heart.  

Little did you know that I was very impressed with you and Dad.  I respected how much you had achieved despite being from the “wrong side of the tracks.”  I heard your stories about how you fought off the State of Michigan whose social workers didn’t think two kids who hadn’t graduated from high school could raise a handicapped child.  I listened as you explained that Dad picked up two jobs to support you and Patti but had to quit one when he developed a heart murmur.  I understood how unusual it was for a wife to work in the early 1950s instead of staying home with the children.

And to be honest with you, none of that particularly mattered to me.  What mattered was you raised Patti.  And I wanted her by my side forever.  We have swapped stories and bounced off each other for 33 years now.  You have watched us raise three daughters.  They have been blessed to be three of your seven angels.  

And sadly, our time together is coming to an end.  Age makes fools out of all of us.  Youthful idealism gives way to middle-aged striving which gives way to the aches, pains and recognizable slowing down as we get older.  And the grand adventure called a life must go on without you rather than to see you continue suffering.

We will miss you terribly.  It will hurt not to hug you again.  It will hurt not to hear you refer to Patti as “Paaat”.  But you will always be in our hearts.  The stories we have shared are blessed memories we will always cherish.  Godspeed, Mom.

Dear Ray and Family, So sorry for your loss. Our thoughts and prayers are with you during this time. God Bless! Dane, Debbie and Elyse Poling.

OBITUARIO

Marjorie Louise Homrich Donley

27 mayo, 1932 – 1 julio, 2011

Reyers North Valley Chapel

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