My stepfather Donald Hammond died December 3rd. He was 99 years old. Don was a sweet, kind, witty, sometimes hilarious, caring, and loving man who will be deeply missed. And the candle that I've had lit since learning a week ago from his daughter Hilary of her father's stroke and rapid decline remains lit in the wake of his death. To honor Don. To hold him with loving remembrance and the deepest gratitude, affection, and love. And to hold his grieving family in my heart and prayers.
Don was my mother's 4th husband, but they actually go way back to my childhood when Don and his first wife and my mom and dad all knew each other and played bridge together.
My mother was divorced once and widowed twice by the time that Don had re-entered her life. Prior to that, my parents had been married for 26 years when my father died suddenly in 1975 at the age of 60 following complications from Rocky Mountain spotted fever and pneumonia. My mother's marriage to Tom Alison in 1978, and just five months after my twin's suicide, lasted 8 years. My mom's mental illness was too much for Tom and they divorced. Prior to that, Tom had been playing golf together in the small Michigan town where they lived, including with Lee, who became husband #3. Lee was the only stepfather who enabled and participated in my mother's abuse and neglect of myself and my three sons. That marriage lasted nearly 20 years until Lee's death.
It was also Lee's son who had long pursued my mother for her wealth, who had contributed over the years to our estrangement, and who engaged in the nearly year long legal battle some nine years ago to keep my mother in Michigan rather than supporting my mom in living out her remaining years with me and her grandsons and great-grandchildren here in the Pacific Northwest. Many of you know that story.
Over a decade ago, and after my mother and Don had both been widowed, Don pursued reconnecting with my mom. It was not too long before my mother moved to Florida to live with Don, and not long after that before they married. Almost immediately after her move to Florida, I noticed a change in my mother. Although her narcissistic illness was still very much impacting her life and her relationships, our interactions had somewhat shifted. Almost from the beginning I sensed that, unlike Lee and his son, Don refused to participate or collude in any abuse towards me. The edge of my mother's brutality was sometimes diminished.
Then Don called me privately one day out of the blue to share that he'd told my mother that he didn't care what I had done 30 years ago, that she needed to forgive me. And he said that he told her, "You can't call yourself a Christian if you don't forgive." I wept. In Don, I had an ally. And so did my mom. Her third husband and his son never did my mother any favor in being complicit with her abuse of myself, my children, or anyone else. Unlike Don, they fueled her narcissism. And those years that my mother was married to Lee, and then groomed by his son whose greed masqueraded as love, those were the hardest years between my mom and me.
But Don began to change and shift these deeply hurtful patterns. He made a difference, or at least he sure tried to. He was incapable of supporting my mother's cruelty. And bless his heart for all his efforts to facilitate building bridges between my mother and myself rather than burning them down, as had the former stepson from Mom's third marriage. Don fought for me. Don fought for us. He knew that any estrangement and bitterness that my mom was stuck in also only hurt her. And somehow Don knew that there was more to my mom than a mental illness that he did not understand and which, in the end, resulted in their inevitable separation and divorce after five years.
It was at the end of November 2012 that my mother called me late in the day to say that she and Don were through. My mom was obviously totally overwhelmed by her mental illness then, as had often happened when her fragile reality was threatened and terror gained a stranglehold over her perceptions, emotions, and behaviors.
I learned later that Don had given my mother an ultimatum for the marriage to survive. There were three parts: 1. Mom needed to come with him to visit myself and my mother's grandsons and our family. (We hadn't seen each other in 14 years.) 2. She was to "get rid of Larry (not his real name)," the former stepson who'd pursued my mother for her money, and she was to change her will and disinherit Larry. 3. And she needed to join Don in getting help (counseling). My mother reportedly readily agreed to visiting me, and to getting rid of Larry and changing her will. But she adamantly refused to go into any form of counseling. Anyone who understands Narcissistic Personality Disorder would not be surprised with the extreme resistance to therapy and to any kind of exposure and light shined on her house of cards.
Don and I talked a lot and he came to recognize that my mother's illness was more than he could begin to manage. And so he let her go. And over the months that followed, he knew that my mom needed to be with me and this is what he fought for. Don's support meant the world to me. And his unwavering love for my mother while fighting for what he knew was in her highest good gave light to the darkest days when the pull of Larry's greed threatened to prevent my mom from what she needed most of all — to be with her family.
It was in December of 2013 that my mom finally came home to her family for good. And the miracles came flowing in — especially the successful treatment for her mental illness and the opening of my mother's heart to being loved and to loving. And all the while, Don never stopped loving my mom.
With Covid and all the myriad heartbreaks, isolation, and challenges that ensued, Don's daughter Hilary and I agreed that it best to not tell Don when my mom died in June of 2020. So when Don would call and ask "How's Mom?," I'd always respond that she's doing as well as possible all things considered. And before we'd hang up the phone, Don would say, "Give Mom a kiss for me."
Don was a beautiful human. A truly beautiful human being. He fought for my mama and for me, also saying that he did it because he remembered my dad and knew that my father was no longer here to fight for us. So Don stepped in. With his caring heart. And unwavering love, even in the midst of so much that was so hard. And Don spoke of such deep love for his children, his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren.
Don was loved. And he'll always be held with love in all of our hearts. Thank you, Don, for being the loving beautiful man that you were and for gracing all of our lives with your sweet and generous heart. You will be missed.
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| Don with his great-grandchildren |
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