I have met a lot of people. Most are acquaintances. Some are great friends. A select few have irreversibly changed me at my core. My father-in-law, Ron was one of them.
An unassuming man of few words. He was a Godly man. He was a loving father. Although he didn’t say much, you never doubted how much he loved you.
Early on, he merely tolerated me. I was 16 when I started dating his daughter. I was a typical teenager and did stupid teenager things.
I come from a loud home. My poor mother was outnumbered with three sons and my dad. All of us yelling, laughing and probably crying from punching each other. Its what you get with a house full of boys.
Ron had a vastly different experience. He was outnumbered by his wife and two daughters. The first time I met my sister-in-law was at a family dinner, I didn’t know how to react.
My wife, her sister and their mother were excitedly talking over each other as fast as they could. When one of them paused for a breath, another would change the subject and talk until she ran out of breath. Over and over. I doubt any of them heard a word the other had said.
I had never experienced anything like it and didn’t know how to react. I looked to Ron to see how he was processing this chaos.
He was slowly, quietly and methodically eating his meal. Occasionally he would look up and pause as though he had something profound to add. But no, he never tried. He went right back to his meal.
He had long ago given up hope of inserting himself into the dinner conversation.
It was the first time I saw his inner calm. I was amazed that he could display it while being swarmed by a hurricane of chatter.
Ron was the stereotypical traumatized middle child in a family of 13 which added to his quietness.
This man of few words was on fire for his family and his faith.
His career path led him to General Electric where he diagnosed and fixed problems on a wide variety of machines. He could pick apart anything and fix it. A useful skill that my wife and I utilized when things broke around the house.
He would impart his knowledge as we worked together, explaining each step. Slowly and methodically, just like that first family dinner except in this arena he did have something profound to say.
His life didn’t go as planned. His retirement dream was to slow down and relax. My mother-in-law’s dream was to “go go go.” Their differences were irreconcilable and they divorced after 43 years. He was a fantastic grandfather before the divorce but afterward he was singularly committed to his grandchildren. He was at every event that our boys were involved in. My wife and I alternated between being annoyed and awed by his dedication.
We would give anything for those days again.
Dimentia sucks.
Its grip on him was barely noticeable in the beginning but became more apparent as the years passed. Before we knew it, he had turned into a different person.
Dementia is also cruel.
Ron Rubrake lost his battle this week and our world will never be the same again.
A loving father. A Godly man. Everyone who knew him loved him.
That 16-year-old kid would learn a lot about things that matter from his future father-in-law.
Family. Faith. Love.
I was lucky to have known him and even luckier to have him as a role model. I’m a better person for it.
dougb@news-banner.com
