May 31, 2020:
I first met Denis in 1992, when a Shick/Dermer family reunion led me and my wonderful wife of the time from Ohio to Colorado. Dawn and I arrived in grand fashion, large suitcase stacked and bounded atop the back of the minuscule trunk of a race red Mazda Miata adding height and weight to the tiny convertible. Dawn, of the golden locks and I with the abundance of natural curls forming a mullet that was the envy of every 90's hair-band aficionado, made our grand arrival. My parents were overjoyed to see us because we were the ultimate twofer. I was their son, and Dawn was just about the nicest person on God's earth. My parents loved her with a love reserved for few others than their children.
As Dawn and I were talking to my parents, a stately man, tall, slender and erect of posture approached us bearing the gift of a warm smile. Beside him, was my wonderful aunt, Marlene, whom I had not seen for years. I had heard talk that Marlene had found a love interest after many years a widow, and I was happy for her. She was a huge part of my upbringing as a child, bringing her wonderful family for occasions like Thanksgiving, Christmas and frequent fun in the summer.
On a sunny Colorado afternoon, Marlene seemed so happy.
Denis was a unique soul. Statuesque with a thin face topped by thick brown and silver curls, his height was equaled only by his kindness and profound intellect. On meeting us, Denis poured forth compliments like wine on a Friday evening, while mixing in Irish poetry and prose. This is a man who had doctorates in both theology and philosophy. Without being pretentious, one knew that there was an air of greatness about him. In contrast, my father was an older version of my wife. He was charming, made friends faster than children (which was no small feat) and was a renaissance man before the term came to mean what it does today. He was doing as much housework and child rearing as my mom from my earliest memory.
At the age of 30, I was smitten by their bifurcated but equally magnetic personalities.
As so often happens in life, my wife and I went back to Ohio, Marlene and Denis returned to Mission Viejo, and we lost touch.
Even after Dawn and I moved to Arizona, our nascent friendship did not reignite. It needed a flame. That would come after we divorced.
In 2000, my parents were on their near-annual sojourn to the Southwest. On this trip, they extended an invitation for me to ride with them to California, to see my cousins and family. It was a turning point in my life.
We spent most of our time in Mission Viejo, where the talk was rich and the walks with my dad and Denis so perfect they felt spiritual. Thus began a friendship so powerful that at some point Denis, Marlene and I agreed that I was their long-lost-son from Arizona. From 2001, until Marlene's passing in 2011, I can only recall three instances during which I didn't visit on both my fall and spring breaks.
So, it worked out that I visited my parents on Christmas and over summer and my adopted parents over my two school breaks.
In California, the conversation was heavily left-leaning politics, the TV always on MSNBC. Mixed in was a good deal of family and Denis's favorite: the LA Lakers. And there were always our long walks.
Each visit was balm to my soul, and along that path I fell in love with Marlene and Denis the way that any child would.
But time marches on. My father passed away 20 months ago. Denis this week. And I don't know how to fill the void that my fathers have left with their departure. They meant so much to me. They were my backbone. They were my role models. They were who I aspire to be.
So, on this Sunday, I send a prayer to the heavens that Denis, Marlene and dad are enjoying their time together, awaiting my mother and family.
Bless you for all you have given me, my fathers. I love you!
Randee Dermer
