A few times in your life you are lucky to meet someone who can best be described as a force of nature.  My mother-in-law, Peg Lawlor, was such a person.  As we recognize the one year anniversary of her passing, I wanted to share a little of her with you and the impact she continues to have on me. 

I met my wife, Trish, not quite five years ago after a lifetime of searching.  How we met is a story for another time, but suffice to say that we met, and when we did my life changed immeasurably for the better.  I had considered myself a “fully formed” person by the time I hit my 50’s, yet Trish opened up an entire world to me that I didn’t even know I wanted.  She had a close group of long time friends and an extended family that was both physically and emotionally close.  But no one in this group taught me more about the importance of family (both blood and chosen) than her Mom, Peg.

Meeting Peg was by far the most angst-inducing part of the process of integrating into Trish’s life.  Not that the rest of it was easy!  The members of her “posse”, a group of wonderful down to earth and embracing people, each pulled me aside one by one to basically threaten me with dismemberment if I mistreated this woman who meant so much to them.  Her two sisters, brother, attendant spouses and nine nieces and nephews essentially descended upon me en masse to check me out.  Keep in mind that I come from a small, very quiet southern family.  My head just about exploded trying to keep track of who-knows-how-many gregarious, story-telling, everyone-talking-at-once Irish Philadelphians.

I sensed, though, that meeting Peg—the matriarch of this clan—was going to be a critical step.  Knowing that she was a fellow scotch drinker, I made sure to pick up a bottle of her favorite label before our introduction (just the three of us).  I don’t think Trish knew how nervous I was.  But I didn’t need to be.  I felt folded into her metaphorical embrace from the moment we met.  And also from the moment we met, I knew someone very special had just come into my life.

The family would get together regularly, be it for holidays, birthdays or just because.  Peg held court wherever and whenever we were together.   She inherited a wicked story telling gene from her father and while she clearly passed it on to her offspring, she was still the best.  She would hold us in rapt attention and laughing in stitches every time.  I learned to restrict fluids whenever going to one of these gatherings.  (Any post-menopausal woman reading this essay will get that reference!)

All the grandkids wanted to hear GrandMarge (she didn’t want to be called Grandma) tell stories.  For Peg, this was a critical way of keeping family lore intact and establishing that critical family bond across the generations.  And thanks to a turn of luck, I got to spend a good amount of one-on-one time with this amazing woman during the last few years of her life. 

Life was clearly sending me a signal toward the end of June in 2016.  Over the span of just one week, Trish and I combined households, my old home sold, and I lost my job.  As I looked to transition to retirement, I took on a bit of regular “Peg” responsibility since I had the time during the week.  Every Wednesday, I would take Peg to the hairdresser, run a few errands for her and usually grocery shop.  This was one-on-one time for us and gave us the chance to really talk.  I will treasure those Wednesdays with Peg for the rest of my life.

We talked about a lot of things, but most often family.  I learned about her father, how important family was to him and how he ingrained that thinking into his children.  She told me so many stories about when her kids were young, summers in the Poconos, all the trouble they (ok, especially Trish) would get into and the blessing that her grandchildren had been.  Knowing that she was nearing the end of her days on this earth, we talked a lot about how important it was to her that her children and grandchildren carry on that family closeness.  It wasn’t about her.  It was about passing on the richness of those connections and the security of that familial embrace.  Look, life was not perfect.  There were times of stress and discord.  She would agonize whenever any of her kids weren’t getting along, but knew she couldn’t interfere.  “They are going to have to work things out once I’m gone,” she’d say. “I know they will work through it now.”  She had provided the example and push during their younger lives.

But it was more than these discussions of family.  It was that sense I would get during our time together of feeling strongly connected and cared for by someone I also cared for deeply.  I struggle over the words, here, because this was such a unique relationship for me.  She made me feel special just by spending time with me.  We would verbally spar and tease each other.  She would ask my thoughts just as often as I asked for hers.  She brought me into this fabulous world that revolved around her (although she never noticed how much people wanted to be around her).

I know members of my own birth family are reading this essay and I don’t want them to feel that I have absorbed my in-laws to the exclusion of them.  On the contrary, the lessons I’ve learned from Peg have caused me to pull closer to them.  Everyone has been up here to visit (as well as at our wedding) and I think they each understand what I mean when I talk about the uniqueness of this family.  Peg taught me to value every member of my family more deeply and try to understand them and engage with them in a way that will continue to strengthen bonds.  The distance is hard, but we’re trying (with varying degrees of success).

Peg suffered through a long and painful decline.  It took its toll on the family and strained relationships at times.  Her passing hit all of us hard.  But at the luncheon after her funeral, dozens of friends and extended family members laughed and drank and told stories until the wee hours.  (I didn’t last until the wee hours, but I heard tell.)  We even passed a microphone around so all could share in the laughs.  And now, about a year later, I know Peg is with us whenever we get together in fours or eights or a dozen or more.  We laugh, we love.  We share minutia, we back each other during difficult times.

That legacy that was so important to Peg, even though she didn’t see it as her legacy, lives on and will continue to live on through her kids and grandkids, cousins and spouses, and even various hangers-on that so want to be a part of this magic.  I was so blessed to know this woman and be embraced by this family.  What I will be forever most grateful for, though, were those Wednesdays with Peg.