Beautifully backwards and perfectly metaphorical: This year, I got my parents for my birthday.
I mean this literally -- my dad was finally discharged from the Beverly Hills Rehabilitation Center, and after wheeling him from one last doctor's check-up to another at Cedars Sinai, I picked my mom up from the friend's home where she'd been staying, post-rehab, and then drove the two of them to my Venice bungalow, where they moved in with my wife and I for a two-day stay before flying back home at last.
Considering that nearly two months ago we nearly lost my dad altogether in the accident's aftermath and that my mom got seriously banged up in the crash, you couldn't ask for a better present. But other than one card in the mail and a flurry of e-mail, phone and Facebook salutations, the actual day was very un-birthday-like until its climax. Seated at our kitchen table with my parents, a perfectly normal event in any other circumstance but extraordinary in this one, I looked up to see Tater bearing a birthday cake, candles lit.
She'd baked the thing from scratch. It was gorgeously lopsided, covered in delicious chocolate butter icing and festooned with jelly bellies, accompanied by a card bearing a message that made me weepy, which I've been carrying around with me ever since. Since my dad's birthday is the day after mine, we blew out the candles together. I can hazard a guess at what he wished, and though I can't tell you mine, clearly we both had something in mind about the continuation of this miraculous occurrence -- you know, like, being alive and here with each other and all that.
It took an enormous fortitude on their part -- the resilient strength and youthful genes of two truly tough cookies in their eighties dealing with surgeries, complications, ailments old and new, the occasional callowness of indifferent medical help, the painful betrayals of the body and the traumatic effect of the whole damn nightmare on their souls. It took a great deal of ceaseless energy on the part of my brother, Tater and myself, dealing with everything from the logistics of getting them from hospital bed into rehab room, to the details of wheelchairs and an airborne oxygen tank in the final stretch of the exit, but...
They flew back to New York City on Saturday morning.
It's tempting to leave it right there, but seeing as I write about romantic comedy, I do need to share an observation from the intervening days.
Much has been made of the loving nature of "the Merry Mernits," a couple generally so fun to hang out with that more than one of my friends over the years has asked me if my parents would adopt them. But in the time since their accident, I was witness to a couple, still in love and together after 61 years, who'd been stretched well beyond their normal limits.
Anyone in their place would lose it here and there, and both my mother and my father had their dark moments. There were times in the last couple of days when Mom's despairing panic and Dad's angry impatience turned the air toxic. I was playing the registered nurse as ring referee.
But Richard and Dee Ann are both conscious human beings, and bless their hearts, they always bounced back. My Dad would make wry fun of my Mom, and she'd flip him the bird. It reminded me of those reconciliation scenes in an old Tracy and Hepburn picture where you saw that the best couples are often made up of parties who've agreed to disagree, while having the good grace to let each other be... and to appreciate the differences between them in the bargain.
Most romantic comedies are all about the chase and the courtship. They fade out when the race is won. But the movie I'd been in here, as a member of the supporting cast, was about what happens long after the real living has begun, what it can look like when two people who've loved each other for decades have been forced to look death in the face.
In the end we even had a few laughs. I don't know what more you can ask for, do you?
Glad to hear you've learned so much about lasting love from your parents, Billy. Hope you and Tater enjoy a similar sucess.
My mom and dad's relationship was OK growing up, but now that my own dad's retired it's neat to see them bonding in much different, deeper way -- on the golf course!
Anyway, happy birthday, Billy. Glad to hear your parents are doing well.
- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA
Posted by: E.C. Henry | April 06, 2009 at 03:24 AM
As someone who has been following this story since February, and who knows your parents' story even longer than that, I'm so thrilled for all of you. I envy their 61 years together. I will never have that, but your parents' relationship has certainly brought inspiration to the one I'm currently in, which is thriving and miraculous in its own way. Your birthday gift was indeed the best you could have received, and I wish all of us the kind of love your parents demostrate.
Posted by: binnie | April 06, 2009 at 06:03 AM
"demonstrate".
Posted by: binnie | April 06, 2009 at 06:18 AM
Beautiful tribute for a beautiful couple. More power to you, Billy and your beautiful family! God bless! Lovely pictures and happy birthday to you and your dad... xx
Posted by: tammy stark | April 06, 2009 at 10:11 AM
Good for you! Happy belate birthdays to both you and your dad. Shalome.
Posted by: JamminGirl | April 06, 2009 at 11:08 AM
That should have read 'Happy "belated" birthdays'.
God Bless.
Posted by: JamminGirl | April 06, 2009 at 11:10 AM
Again, I love your parents and I don't even know them.
Now, MY parents on the other hand...less Romantic Comedy and more Charlie Kaufman.
Posted by: J | April 06, 2009 at 12:17 PM
Reading this post I was reminded of a Jewish blessing my grandfather likes to say. In Hebrew it's called the Shehehiyanu (transliterated) and loosely translated it is a thank you to God for delivering us in good health to see this happy occasion. The prayer is meant to be spoken on special occasions and in the presence of natural wonders, but my grandfather always says it when my whole family is gathered together. It definitely seems to me like your birthday was one of those moments where awe and gratitude comes just from being together.
Happy birthday, Billy.
Posted by: stephanie | April 07, 2009 at 11:22 AM
Billy,
Another beautiful post. Happy Birthday and cheers to a beautiful year for you and Tater and of course, the Merry Mernits.
Peace.
-Scribe
Posted by: ScribeLA | April 08, 2009 at 01:43 PM
My mom died three years ago from breast cancer at the age of 54. She and my father had been married for 36 years.
Right before she fell ill, my father had a close brush and was in the hospital for a time.
I got to watch them deal with the stress of their illnesses, and the accompanying financial issues (nearly losing their house, having one of their cars reposessed) with grace, strength, passion and humor.
When my father was in a coma, he swelled up and my mother took his ring off his finger. She wore it until he was conscious and lucid again - and then, when she gave it back, they said their vows to one another again.
I can think of few greater blessings than witnessing a love story like that.
Posted by: Laura Deerfield | April 08, 2009 at 08:32 PM
You are one of the 'blessed' in life Billy.
Being raised in a house full of love must have been so wonderful for you and your siblings.
Happy belated birthday to you and your father.
Posted by: Donna from Louisiana | April 11, 2009 at 10:39 AM
Thank you EC: Bonding on the golf course sounds good to me.
Binnie: What you said.
Thank you Tammy!
Jammingirl: Shalomyou.
j: Write 'em up.
Aw, Laura. Amazing. Thank you for the story.
Thank you Donna!
Stephanie, thank you for the word.
Peace out Scribe!
Posted by: mernitman | April 12, 2009 at 11:46 PM
I WOULD LIKE TO SAY HI TO YOUR DAD WHO BECAME MY FRIEND WHILE IN THE HOSPITAL.
JOSE.
Posted by: JOSE | May 10, 2009 at 03:50 AM
Jose: I'll tell my dad you say hello -- hope you're doing well, as well!
Posted by: mernitman | May 10, 2009 at 05:58 PM