Cast No Stones Part 8

The following day was going to be interesting. As well as Willard making the trip up from Florida to see us again, Avilla's son, David was coming from Maryland to see us. It was going to be testing day for Harry. He had expressed a wish to see where we were staying. The plan was for us to stay at our hotel. David and Willard would go with Ethel and Avilla to collect my parents and then all of them would drive over to us. Everything went according to plan. It was nice to see Willard again and nice to meet my other cousin, David and his partner. David had five sons who were all in the U.S. Army. We enjoyed some great conversations during the earlier part of the day. Later, we talked about a good many things over tea and sandwiches. Our American relatives were not used to having tea and sandwiches and they thought it was rather cute and quaint that we poured tea out of a teapot for them. I think everyone enjoyed the day and my mother in particular seemed to be having a lovely time.

Willard and David had gone to a lot of personal expense by traveling hundreds of miles to see us. I really appreciated that. They left the following day. David was going back home to Maryland and Willard was going to the neighboring state of Michigan to spend a little time with his daughter, Debbie. I wondered whether I would ever see them again. They had been so welcoming and interested in our story. Never once did they express concern or say anything negative about what had happened. If they did have any concerns or reservations, they kept them to themselves.

During our visit the weather was glorious and very warm. On some days my mother made a picnic which we took down to the garden. It was really nice to be sitting as a complete family enjoying the warm suns.h.i.+ne and eating our picnics together. The setting was idyllic. I sometimes found it overwhelming and just a little unbelievable. My thoughts kept returning to my childhood. This was a world away from those slums of Pendleton and Lower Broughton in Salford. My father was sitting close to me. The same father who all those years ago had walked the very streets of my childhood as a wartime visitor to our sh.o.r.es... The same father who had stood on Stott Lane outside Hope Hospital looking up at the maternity wards on the night I was born. The same father who eventually waved us both goodbye and returned to the U.S. - knowing in his heart that we would never meet again. Occasionally I glanced at him when he wasn't looking. I wondered to myself how he felt about everything that had happened. I wondered whether, if he was able to turn the clock back - would he...

I realized that pretty soon, not only would this visit be over, the entire episode in our lives would be over. In the not too distant future, both my elderly parents would die. I have not had the chance to get to know my father as I would have liked. Neither will I ever have the chance. Too much time has gone by for that. Are we alike? I asked myself. I don't just mean in appearance or mannerisms, but are we really alike? Do we share similar thought processes? Do we like and dislike the same things with equal intensity? There were so many things I would have loved to have known, but as Willard had previously explained to me, it might be better to just accept that what I have now is all that there is left to have. What had happened in the past should remain in the past. This was it, this was as good as it was ever going to get.

We celebrated our Silver Wedding Anniversary with Harry and Laura in their apartment. Mother made a beautiful buffet and provided a wonderful cake for us. Ethel and Avilla joined us and everyone enjoyed the day. My mother had bought us a musical silver photo frame that played the anniversary waltz. She had a picture of our wedding day placed in it and even had it engraved with our wedding date. We treasure that gift and still have it on display today.

I spent as much time with Ethel and Avilla as I could without upsetting my parents. We would go shopping to the mall with them and on one or two occasions we ate supper with them. Ethel was always full of beans and ready to accompany us anytime. She enjoyed the opportunity to be out socializing with her 'English relatives.' Whereas Avilla was often too tired and preferred a quiet life.

One day I took the children to see the famous University of Notre Dame. We walked around the campus and had a lovely visit. The university is well known worldwide for its American Football achievements. The team is known as 'The fighting Irish.' We were very fortunate to have not only been allowed into the ground, we were also given a conducted tour by a member of the ground staff. I couldn't help but remember what the spiritualist, Jim Byrne had said on my last visit to him; 'There is a large educational building nearby.' In fact, our hotel was just a five minute walk from Notre Dame. From Harry's apartment you can see the university. You can also see the area in the distance where his sisters live. I found out they all used to live in the town of Gary but moved to their present addresses about 20 years ago. Harry actually moved out of Maryland Street in the early 1950's.

The warden and janitor of Harry's high-rise complex was a lovely man named Paul. However, he preferred to be called 'Tacco' for some reason. He was a Notre Dame man through and through and a very ardent fan of The fighting Irish. He had arranged the concert with Kay and had invited over 100 residents to attend. Another resident was able to play the piano. She and Kay had been rehearsing prior to the concert. Unknown to Tacco, Kay had learned the Notre Dame team song. During her concert she surprised everyone but particularly Tacco by singing his team's song. It was a lovely evening and a nice concert for all the residents. Harry and Laura were both extremely proud of Kay's performance.

Chapter 25 Such a Mistake.

When we visited them the following day, both Harry and Laura were somewhat subdued. I sensed things were not right between them again. They were hardly talking to each other and when Harry was talking to any of us, my mother was displaying facial expressions that suggested she was angry with him. As the afternoon wore on she became more and more aggressive towards him. She was no longer trying to disguise her ill feelings; she was becoming openly hostile. I could see the sadness in Harry's face. Whatever the problem was, Harry was at pains to keep it covered. He was very subdued. He was taking abuse from my mother rather but not retaliating. Harry was obviously uncomfortable and didn't want us to have to witness her behavior. Finally I could bear it no longer and asked my son Lee to drive everyone back to our hotel. I intended speaking to Harry and Laura alone and then re-join my family. My actions incensed my mother even more and she became extremely angry and upset all at the same time.

The floodgates of tears now opened and she let out all of her bottled-up emotions. She was very unhappy and had been since the first three months of her time with Harry. She claimed that she felt like a slave. Harry was not helping himself; he was taking advantage of her and was a very selfish person. She said that she'd worked like a Trojan ever since she arrived, with very little thanks. She admitted that she'd made a big mistake. Things were not right between them but she claimed it was not all her fault. She was doing the best she could but he was unappreciative of her. He would spend 22 hours a day in bed. He only got up to eat and use the lavatory. She was expected to be his nursemaid, errand boy, cook and washer-up all combined into one.

I tried to explain to her calmly that nothing that she was saying was surprising me. Furthermore, it shouldn't be any surprise to her because she knew full well what to expect before she embarked on this crazy mission. I told them that this trip had cost me a lot of money and that if they had been honest with me before I came, I would not have come. This was appalling for my children; their grandchildren. To see the situation for what it really was a great sham. Instead of it being one of the happiest trips of their lives, it was in fact, the saddest.

My mother didn't like me talking to her in this way. She took exception and accused me of siding with 'Him.' It reminded me of the way she used to refer to Billy Burns years ago. I told her that I was not taking sides with anyone. Harry's behavior had not caused me or my family distress the way hers had. They would not be sitting in the hotel right now thinking about their grandfather's bad behavior - only their grandmother's. This resulted in my mother threatening to throw herself in the river. I ignored her and tried talking to Harry, but she constantly interrupted. In the end I suggested to them that the situation was intolerable and should not continue. As much as Harry's health was a problem, I felt that he would be better off if Laura went home. He told me that he was sorry for any distress and unhappiness he had caused. My mother argued that she would look an idiot and that everyone would call her stupid if she came home. I agreed with her but told her that she shouldn't stay here any longer - she would put her own health at risk which she couldn't afford to do because she had no proper medical cover. She would just have to accept and acknowledge her mistake and get herself home as quickly as possible.

I think my talking to them in this way had a sobering influence over her almost manic behavior. My mother seemed to calm right down. I believe she was thinking about the things that I'd said and she knew deep down I was right. She was the victim of her own stupidity.

She also knew deep down she had little choice other than to return to Britain. If things stayed the way they were, she could make the best of a bad situation or make an already bad situation even worse until one of them finished up in a grave.

After talking with them for some time and taking the opportunity to tell them just how all of this had spoiled our visit, they became apologetic and this upset me even more. I didn't want their apologies; I wanted and needed their nonsense to stop. I wanted to go home with a peaceful mind. I wanted to know that they were ready to make things right. I wanted Harry to arrange my mother's return to the UK. I wanted rea.s.suring that until that time they would stop quarrelling. I wanted to know that my mother would not treat Harry anymore in the way I had just witnessed.

I wished them good night, gave them both a hug and headed back to the hotel with a heavy heart.

I really was not too surprised that what I'd suspected would happen, had become a reality. However, what hurt me particularly was the fact that this bad behavior had occurred in front of my wife and children. And that they my parents - seemed incapable of dealing with it.

The next day I told Ethel that it had been an upsetting day for us. She informed me that both she and Avilla were already well aware of how bad things were, and that it had been like that for many months. She believed that although my visit had given them something to focus upon, the situation was not good for either of them. She accepted that it was not all Laura's fault and that Harry was equally guilty of whatever was wrong. Both she and Avilla had witnessed their bad behavior. She hadn't forewarned me because she thought it wasn't right for them to talk behind Harry and Laura's back. In any event, they figured that I would probably find out for myself soon enough. Ethel agreed with me that Laura should return home and she and Avilla would help her make the necessary arrangements. They would look after Harry like they used to do before Laura became part of the scene.

The next day, Margaret and I went to the apartment. We left Lee looking after the girls. We didn't know what we might find when we got there. Both Harry and Laura were once again behaving normally. They wondered where the girls were, and when we said that we had left them at the hotel with Lee, they didn't pursue it any more. My mother told us that she and Harry had talked things through and that she would not be coming home. They were starting over and were going to make things work out together. I had kind of expected this, but nevertheless I was relieved to hear it. We were flying home in another two days, and although under no illusions, I did feel a little better at hearing that they were going to make a new start.

We returned to our hotel. Our children, particularly Lee and Kay had also determined in their own minds that their grandmother would be staying; they believed it was because she would become a laughing stock otherwise. It was a sad situation that really depressed us. I took my family for a short ride to the park in South Bend where we spent a few quiet hours deep in our own thoughts.

This was our penultimate day so I went to pay the hotel bill which was over a thousand dollars. I was informed that it was already paid. Ethel had settled the bill as a gift for us. This touched me immensely. n.o.body in my entire life had been so generous to me. I hardly knew Ethel yet she had done this for my family. I shall never forget the generosity of her beautiful act of kindness. When, on our final evening with my parents, I told them what Ethel had done, my mother said sarcastically that she was trying to buy me. Harry on the other hand, said he was very pleased that Ethel had done this. He told us that she was a wealthy woman and could easily afford it. Nevertheless, it had touched him so much that he shed a tear. We were going home the next morning, so we all shed a tear or two as we said goodbye. We made no plans for more visits because of the uncertain future.

On the way back to our hotel for the final time we called on Avilla to say goodbye and to thank her. We then called on Ethel. I thanked her sincerely for everything that she had done for us. We had a long chat about things. I told her that the money she had saved me in paying the hotel bill would be saved for my final visit to the U.S. I would use it to return for one last time - when Harry died. I would come to his funeral. We all believed that Laura would outlive Harry. Ethel was very touched on hearing of my plan for a final visit. She promised to do what she could for my parents. We said our goodbyes and left. None of us slept a wink that night. Each wrestling with our own thoughts and emotions.

The next morning we made the drive back to Chicago to connect with our flights home. The drive was uneventful and n.o.body was in the mood for conversation. We drove in silence, each deep in our own private thoughts. The flight to Boston was smooth enough but the flight from Boston to Glasgow was b.u.mpy with severe turbulence. I am a poor flyer at the best of times, but this was bad for me. I was frightened. I was also sad. I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I wondered whether the visit had been worth it. The turbulence stopped and I eventually fell asleep from exhaustion. We landed safely at Glasgow Airport where we faced the tiring drive home to Manchester.

Chapter 26 A Pa.s.sing Moment.

The next four months pa.s.sed fairly uneventfully. I received a couple of letters from Ethel telling me that things were pretty much alright over there. My mother wrote quite frequently and I continued sending them ca.s.sette tapes every two to three weeks containing all our news. Harry celebrated his 82nd Birthday on October 17th. Christmas came and went. We had exchanged cards and gifts and made a special telephone call to them on Christmas day. Things really did seem to have settled down. Mother told me that Harry continued to spend most of his time in bed and that he hardly ever left the apartment now. She was coping ok. It was better now that she had made plenty of friends and could go down to the social room for the bingo and general socializing.

By the springtime, Harry was eating less and less. Laura was doing her best but she said he was constantly tired and everything was an effort for him. I think this signaled that his days were numbered. His doctor visited occasionally and diagnosed that it was due deteriorating health a.s.sociated with old age. Occasionally Harry would get out of bed and make a ma.s.sive effort to get dressed and try to keep Laura company. However, their time together never lasted very long. The effort he expended getting up meant he would soon fall asleep in the chair.

During the middle of May Harry suffered another minor stroke and was admitted to the local Hospital in South Bend. This was relatively close and Laura and his sisters could visit him regularly. After a week or so he was transferred to the Veterans Hospital in Fort Wayne. This was eighty miles away and it became virtually impossible for Laura or his sisters to visit him.

When Willard learned of the predicament, he traveled up from Florida and arranged to take them to visit the hospital. My mother reported that Harry was only semi-conscious due to a combination of the stroke and the medication he was receiving. He was in safe hands but would be unaware of anyone's presence. They were advised that the situation could go either way. It was not possible for him to make a full recovery. He could at best, only make a partial recovery but the probability was that he would fail to recover at all. The doctors said there were no immediate signs that his life was in any danger, but the next few weeks would be telling for him. Mother would telephone the hospital every day to see how he was and leave him messages of encouragement. Everyone sent him get well cards wis.h.i.+ng him a speedy recovery.

This was a very difficult and emotional time for me. I fully realized the gravity of the situation, but I worried more about my mother's ability to cope rather than my father's health. I had been running up enormous telephones bills of hundreds of pounds and I needed to reduce them. I simply could not keep telephoning almost every day. Letters from my mother only came every three or four weeks. The frustrations of not knowing what was happening and at the same time being unable to help, caused me a great deal of stress and sleepless nights.

I was at work early one morning when I suddenly had an uneasy feeling about Harry. It was the 13th of June 1990. I telephoned the hospital in Fort Wayne to see how he was. Because of the time difference between the America and the UK, members of the night nursing staff were still on duty. After having to convince her of who I was, the nurse told me that during the night my father's condition had caused an emergency situation. He needed CPR on two occasions and that currently he was very poorly. They really were not holding out any more hope of him recovering. She advised me to prepare for the worse.

After some hours, my mother telephoned to tell me my father had died at 9.20 that morning. I was expecting the call so wasn't shocked. Still, when the expected happens it still numbs you momentarily. When I'd finished talking with my mother a colleague asked if I was ok. He must have sensed from my facial expression that something was wrong. I told him that my father had just died. It felt so strange to say that. Anyone who loses a father they had loved all of their life must feel so much pain at a moment like this. In telling my colleague that my father had just died, I felt like a bit of a fraud. I could not possibly feel what my colleague would have a.s.sumed I felt. I did feel something but I can't say that I felt bereaved. I doubt anyone could know just how I felt at that moment because I wasn't even sure myself. There was certainly a feeling of loss but not the loss of a loved one. It felt more like I had just been unfairly deprived of something I was ent.i.tled to. Something I had striven all my life for. Like a well-deserved promotion that was given to someone else instead of me.

It was that old conspiracy. The circ.u.mstances of life had just conspired again to deprive me of my father.

I still had five hours left of my s.h.i.+ft to work. I telephoned home and told Margaret of Harry's pa.s.sing. She said I should come home immediately. However, I didn't want to go home. I didn't need to go home. I wasn't being a martyr or anything - I was simply not upset enough for it to affect me carrying out my duties. I did however take a break in a quiet part of the building where I could be alone and undisturbed until I'd collected my thoughts.

I knew this time would come. From the moment the first contact was made, Avilla told me that time was not on my side. At our last farewell the previous September, I knew I would never see him again. There was no use in dwelling on what might have been. As Willard had already told me, I found him at the best time. I knew in my heart that Harry was glad that I did what I did. He had no regrets about my searching to find him. I must have no regrets either. I have experienced something that very few others could even begin to imagine. I had to treasure what little I'd been able to have. There had been nothing more made available to me. I will never have a lifetime of memories of him. I hardly knew him. Those memories I do have will be treasured. Any memories I have of my mother and father living together as man and wife are somewhat tarnished. However, they're much better memories than those I have of my mother's relations.h.i.+p with my stepfather - I can't honestly say that I will treasure them. But the most treasured memories are those of the visit Margaret and I made when we met him for the first time.

I fully intended to keep my promise to attend the funeral. Apart from anything else, I needed to attend to the matter of my mother returning to the UK. That evening I telephoned my mother and told her I was making hasty arrangements to fly out for the funeral. Because of my s.h.i.+ft pattern and flight availability, it was going to be four days before I could get there. I specifically told her not to arrange the funeral before the 20th of June to ensure I was able to be there. The arrangements involved booking direct flights from Manchester to Chicago then an internal flight with a small airline from Chicago to South Bend Airport. I arrived at 11.45 on the night of the 17th. I was met by my mother who was accompanied by Willard. I was told that the funeral was the next day at 9.15am! I was flabbergasted. I had just practically broken my neck to get there as quickly as I could. I was tired and a little annoyed that my mother had totally ignored me regarding arrangements for the funeral. However, this was not the time or the place to say so.

We spent a little time talking about things before we retired to bed at about 2 o'clock in the morning. Mother told me to sleep in Harry's bed. I refused and said that she should have her own bed and I would sleep on the couch. She explained that only Harry slept in the bed. She had been sleeping on the couch since two days after her marriage! After I questioned her about their sleeping arrangements, she said it was more comfortable for her back. I didn't believe her explanation. It reminded me of her and my stepfather not sleeping together. I thought to myself, the more things change, the more they remain the same...

Ethel and Avilla had made all the funeral arrangements on Laura's behalf. Laura was so stressed she didn't remember when I was actually coming. She was constantly repeating herself during our conversation and forgetting things I had said to her after just a few minutes. It was obvious to me she was suffering from severe stress and was in need of medical help. I determined to arrange for her to see a doctor straight after the funeral.

The Funeral arrangements were for Ethel and Avilla to pick up my mother and me in a funeral limousine about 9 0'clock for the short journey to the service at the funeral chapel. Harry had already been lying in the chapel for the previous two days to allow visitors to pay their last respects. I decided to get up early and make my own way to the chapel so I could sit with Harry for a little time on my own before the service.

The walk to the funeral chapel took me 15 minutes. It was a beautiful warm and sunny day. I remember thinking how inappropriate it was to be burying someone on such a nice day. I located the place easily enough and went in. I found myself standing in a chapel of rest with seating for about forty people. At the front of the chapel was a beautiful blue/grey casket draped with the American Flag. The casket lid was open as is the tradition in the U.S. Harry was lying peacefully in the casket. Next to him lay a father's day card that I'd recently sent him. My mother must have placed it there. It was the only father's day card I'd sent to anyone in my life. There was also the crucifix that my mother sent him on my first meeting with him. As I sat alone in the chapel reflecting on things, I realized that although my mother had been married three times, this was the only time she had been properly widowed. By that I mean this was the only time a husband had died while they were living together.

It would be quite a traumatic day for her.

My time spent with Harry while he was in this world was very short. I was grateful for it no matter how short it was. As I sat and reflected my mind went back to the original confrontation with my mother and the revelation about his name. I thought about my deceased grandfather, Edward and of him telling me through the medium to ask my mother about Harry. I wondered why Edward did that. I thought about my long search and the highs and lows connected with it. I remembered the jubilation I felt when Avilla first wrote to me. I remembered his smile when I entered his apartment on my first visit.

I was alone with my father in this air conditioned chapel. The only sound was the gentle humming of the fans. I could see him lying motionless in his casket. I so wished he would have cracked a joke, but he had laughed for the last time. Gone forever was the twinkle in his eye and the mischievous grin on his face. There was so much that I wanted to tell him. There were many questions I wished I had asked.

As I sat deep in thought in between saying a few silent prayers, I became aware of someone having entered the chapel. It was Willard. He'd had the same thought as me; he also wanted to spend a little time with Harry. We sat in silence for a while, until other people began to arrive for the service. Several of the neighbors came from the high rise where they lived. Soon the limousine arrived carrying my mother and my aunts. The service began and at some point the immediate family was asked to leave the main chapel for a few minutes while the casket lid was closed. We then returned for the conclusion of the service. The burial was going to take place in Rice Cemetery in Elkhart which was miles away. The cortege had a police escort all the way to the cemetery and never had to stop en route.

At the cemetery the casket was placed above the grave. I and my fellow mourners were seated beneath a canopy to protect us from the heat of the sun. I remember seeing the surname Barkes on an adjacent grave. It was the grave of Ethel's husband. Representatives from the Veterans a.s.sociation in Mishawaka were in attendance. They ceremoniously folded the U.S. flag which was draping the casket, before handing it to my mother. After a final prayer, the casket was lowered into the grave and we were driven back to Mishawaka. Everything had seemed so matter of fact. It had all been carried out so efficiently and somewhat clinically.

We returned to the apartment where mother had prepared refreshments for us. There was no negative talk or anything like that. In fact there was very little reminiscing by anyone. It seemed to me that at the end of a long, and certainly in Harry's case, a somewhat complicated life, there would have been a good many things to remember him for and to talk about. Strangely, the main topic of conversation seemed to focus on the food my mother had presented so attractively. It was possible that in a sad kind of way, they were relieved by Harry's death. I don't mean that anyone was pleased by it simply that his pa.s.sing was a blessing in disguise for all parties. Mother could now come home and spend her last years in peace. As far as Harry was concerned, unless he could have made a recovery to at least the state he was in prior to this last illness, his pa.s.sing away was preferable to a life where he would have to endure further disability. And his sisters, despite their nursing knowledge and skills were simply too old to give him the round the clock care that he would have needed.

My mother continued to display signs of confusion and memory loss. It wasn't just short term memory loss. She was struggling to even remember her own date of birth. I made an appointment with her doctor and took her to see him. He could find no physical problems but conducted one or two simple tests designed to detect early symptoms of dementia. Nothing was conclusive. He diagnosed stress and prescribed some tranquilizers for her. We discussed what was going to happen to her now and when she intended coming home. She said she would be coming home, but not for a few months. She still needed to sort out a few issues. She would have to sell all the furniture and belongings and it would take time to sort out Harry's estate and finances.

The next few days really dragged for me. I wanted to return home but I had booked my return flight for a week after I arrived. I spent the time either going for walks or accompanying my mother to the local store. On a couple of occasions I went over to see Ethel and Avilla for lunch or supper. They were lovely old ladies and I knew that I was going to miss them. They knew as well as I did that we would never see each other again. We talked about everything that had occurred. I told them that I was considering writing a book about my life story. They were very interested and wished me luck. Little did I realize that it would be another twenty years before I actually completed the book. I think Ethel rather fancied seeing her name in print on the best-seller's shelf in the local K-Mart!

At the end of the week, I said goodbye to my mother. It was not easy for me to leave her standing there at the entrance to Harry's apartment block. As the cab pulled away she stood waving to me until I was out of sight. I traveled to South Bend Airport with a heavy heart. I had just buried my father. A father I never really knew. I was leaving my mother all alone in a foreign country. In her present state of mind she was now more vulnerable than ever. There was nothing I could do. I had responsibilities and commitments thousands of miles away. I was longing to see my wife and children. I consoled myself with the knowledge that her sisters-in-law would be able to help her if she was really stuck.

The journey home was a very sad one. I couldn't help but sit and think about my life before I'd met my father and all those wasted years. I thought about the drunken aspect of my father's life that Willard had told me about. I wondered if things might have been different if I was in his life at the time. I even wondered whether such a lifestyle could be hereditary. It occurred to me that my life could have been completely different. I tried to imagine my mother forsaking her daughter and traveling to the U.S. with me and Harry after the war. I tried to imagine the life we might have had. Then the very idea of my mother leaving my sister behind upset me so much that I immediately put the thought out of mind. No woman should ever be put in such a predicament and no man should ever consider even making such a suggestion. I thought about the other proposal he made to her - the one about him being given custody of me as a baby and taking me back to the States. This was equally impossible and again, I don't know how it could have been suggested. It crossed my mind that had my mother allowed it to happen I would have become an American citizen and might have found myself in a search to find my long-lost British mother!

The more I thought about things, the more upsetting it was. Wars bring desperate situations and as a consequence people often find themselves acting out of desperation. During wartime, the future of anyone or anything is so uncertain that thoughts and actions are driven by the need to survive. By survival, I don't just mean staying alive. Often, survival is living from day-to-day. Frequently, people acted on impulse due to the fear of tomorrow never coming. Both my mother and my father were victims of wartime circ.u.mstances - they were simply trying to survive. I cannot possibly know how it felt to be in my father's shoes during those years. He was thousands of miles from away from his home and family. He knew that the only reason for him being here in in Britain was to prepare for and partic.i.p.ate in the D- Day invasion, with all its inherent dangers. My mother's lifestyle was not unique to her. It would be wrong of me to find fault in what she did or did not do. I realize that for a great many women it was a case of "there but for the grace of G.o.d go I." In many ways she'd been desperately unlucky. She'd written to me shortly after her marriage to Harry about having finally found the happiness that she had always been denied. Even though with what later transpired, I find this hard to believe, I sincerely hope that in some small way, she did.

I couldn't turn the clock back. Neither did I want to. What had happened had happened. It had to be accepted and dealt with.

Having to leave my mother in Mishawaka caused me to think that I was responsible. I was responsible for her being there; being widowed, being vulnerable and now ultimately being all alone. I know this was not true, but nevertheless, I still felt guilty at having to leave her.

By the time my flight landed at Manchester eight hours later, I had collected my thoughts, composed myself and was more than ready to be reunited with my wife and children.

Chapter 27 Ta-rah Harry.

My mother came home in late August 1990, just less than three months following Harry's death. She'd managed to sell most of their furniture and had given some of it away. Harry's estate had been settled by his lawyer and all outstanding taxes and bills had been paid. All bank accounts had been closed. My mother had brought with her the remaining balance in cash.

A few days before returning home she visited Harry's grave in Elkhart. She placed some flowers on the grave and said a final 'Ta-rah' to him. This was quite an upsetting visit for her. She knew it was to be the last visit she would ever make to the grave. For the first time the true magnitude of what had taken place during these last two years had suddenly hit her. Only now as she stood at his grave did she really appreciate just how incredulous it had all been.

Her mind raced back to her younger days, to the time of war. To the time they first met. Along came this handsome American soldier who literally swept her off her feet. He brought happiness into her life that she had never known before. They quickly fell in love and threw all caution to the wind. They loved with a pa.s.sion that was magnified by the uncertainty of the times and the dangers of warfare. She silently reflected on all that had resulted since that first meeting.

She had been forced by circ.u.mstances over which she had no control, to kiss her American lover a final farewell in 1945 as he returned to America. This was heart-breaking for her in the extreme. She was now alone with two young children to support and had to somehow survive the scorn and contempt that she was subjected to. She thought about me and the effect that this had had on my life. She regretted not telling me about my father many years earlier. She reflected on a great many things. Some of them she regretted. Others she did not As she stood at Harry's graveside, she wept a little. Life had taught her a good many things. She was fully aware of how fate can intervene and how circ.u.mstances can conspire against you. She had experienced hard times in her life - possibly much more than her fair share. She had paid a very heavy price and suffered enormously.

Now in the winter of her life, she had found her one true love again after 45 years - but it had been too late. It was too late for either her or Harry. He was no longer the das.h.i.+ng GI who melted her heart and made her go weak at the knees. She was no longer the attractive brunette with the dimples and a smile that lit up the whole of Salford during the black- out years. But for a woman of her age she was pretty fit.

She wondered whether Harry might have been different if she had been with him throughout those drinking years. She had actually asked this of Harry and he jokingly told her that she would have made him drink even more! The truth was that neither of them knew the answer. She realized that she was asking questions that could never be answered. Both their att.i.tudes and behavior had been formed over their respective lifetimes and were a result of their individual experiences. There was no point on dwelling on what might have been.

She turned and began to walk away. After a final glance over her shoulder, she was soon out of sight of Harry's grave. She had to return to Mishawaka, never to come his grave again. She felt guilty at leaving him but what else could she do. She was still upset and felt guilty at not being with him at Fort Wayne when he died. A thought crossed her mind that at all the most important times in Harry's life when he really needed her to be with him, she never was. She knew of course that it was not possible for her to be with him, but still it troubled her.

On her last day in the U.S. she said her farewells to her friends and neighbors. Her flight from Chicago to Manchester had been arranged with a local travel agent. Ethel and Avilla drove her to the bus stop by the Town and Country Shopping Center. It was quite an emotional goodbye. From the uncertainty at the beginning, their relations.h.i.+p had improved tremendously. The three of them had been through a lot together during the last two years. Any differences they may have had in the beginning were now distant memories. They had grown closer and each had forged a special bond.

Avilla was very much like Laura in so far as she had brought up a family and had grandchildren. She was very down to earth in her outlook and understanding of life's issues. Ethel on the other hand had no children. Financially she was comfortable and always had been. She had married a wealthy man and even in widowhood had only socialized with like-minded people. However, in Laura she found a hardworking woman who took on a ma.s.sive task very late in life. She admired her and had respect for what she'd done for her brother in his time of great need.

The parting was an emotional ordeal for them all.

The aircraft touched down in Manchester where I was waiting to meet her. The United States of America was now further away than ever. The journey had finally ended. The race to find my father had been run. Now it was all over. It was possibly time to take stock of what for me had been both the most traumatic and the most dynamic years of my life. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that when I planned to confront my mother about who my father was, that it would cause the chain reaction it did.

After taking stock, I realized that this whole issue with my father was not confined solely to me - this matter did not concern me exclusively. Many people, either directly or indirectly were involved. For many years I'd harbored the feeling that I was being deprived of something. And I certainly was. However, I now realize that first and foremost, this is my parents' story. I am but a consequence of their involvement. I cannot claim exclusivity of feelings or consequences in connection with my search. I have no regrets about anything I did or the consequences of what I did. I found my father and he was just as pleased about it as I was. He'd told me that he would never regret me finding him and that it was a truly wonderful thing in his life. I do have regrets about what my parents did in later life and the consequences of their marrying. However, I often think about them and always try to focus on the positives.

I sincerely hope that my words will inspire others in similar situations. My story might also give a nostalgic glimpse back to members of my parent's generation who are able to relate to those war years and the presence of American soldiers in the UK. It might also give an insight to the younger generation whose grandparents actually lived through those times; they might learn what, under similar circ.u.mstances, life could have been like for them.

My legacy from both of my parents is that I have been able to write this book. I have been inspired to write it for many reasons. One of the main reasons is that my parents encouraged me to do so. In writing this book, I hope to preserve for posterity just a little of that period in our country's social history that my parents helped to write by the lives they lived. They have given me the opportunity to tell a compelling story. I have done my best. I hope they are not disappointed with it.

I have finally and completely been able to come to terms with everything that has happened in my life with regards to my American father. I am now at long last able to talk openly about the situation. I no longer have any hang ups and I am more than happy to share my story with all.

Whatever the future may hold, there is no escaping from the past. It is often said that we are each products of our past. I don't mind being considered a product of the past, because for far too long, I believed I was a victim of it. I am no longer ashamed of being born to unmarried parents, I realize now that children cannot be illegitimate, only the actions of their parents can.

Endnote.

I understand that we're not all the same and my book will produce different reactions in different people, but if you feel you've been entertained or somehow enriched by reading Cast No Stones, please spread the word in any way you can. This is my first humble attempt at writing a book and I hope a little positive feedback will spur me to write a follow-up.

Many thanks, Kevin Mach.e.l.l.

kevinmach.e.l.l.blogspot.com.

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