Robert Lach - In Memoriam

On Saturday morning, my father-in-law Robert Lach, passed away at the age of 89 years and 4 days. 

For a number of reasons, Robert... or as I usually called him Bob or Bobbo, became an important figure in my life after I first met him in 2010. First and foremost, he was the (adoptive) father of my then girlfriend (and future wife) Dawn. When I first started dating Dawn, she was estranged from Bob (and June, Bob's wife and Dawn's (adoptive) step-mother). There were reasons for this estrangement which are not necessary to recount - all relationships have obstacles and strains - and it is the ability to bridge the disagreements that is ultimately important. The relationship between Dawn and I helped her to bridge some of the estrangements with her family... including her separation from her parents.

It is important to recognize that I have added the adoptive prefix above not as a pejorative. But, rather as an enhancement to the characteristic of being a father/parent. For Bob (and his first wife Dottie) decided, first, to foster a child (Dawn) that had been put up for adoption by her birth mother. Soon after, they were allowed to adopt Dawn out of the foster care system - something that Bob was proud to say was the first time that had happened in the state of Connecticut. There is obviously a special character in someone to take on the parenting of someone who is not biologically their own. 

This was how my relationship with Bob began. By the mending of fences that had been torn down for reasons that were no longer as important as they were previously. Bob and June took me in as another member of the family. Bob, in particular, was something I had not had in my life since I was a child - an older male figure. Something I had not really had since my father had passed away.

 

When Dawn and I finally got married, Bob would always call me Son. To me, it was the mark of acceptance. It was also the mark of caring. I was more than just a random person, I was family.

Over the years, we had numerous conversations - from his love of cars to his work at EB to what he was going to plant in the garden to how he was going to fix the house. The topics were not always that important, it was the conversation that was. When my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, the entire family was there to get me through the initial shock. Bob, however, stood out. For, he was a lung cancer survivor. He had actual knowledge of what might happen with my mother. He shared that knowledge. It was an important bond.

Later on, we shared a different bond. The year 2024 was a devastating year for both Bob and me. We both went through the devastating trail of losing our wife to disease. During my wife's various hospitalizations, Bob came to visit her a couple of times. For, that is what a parent does when their child is sick. Yet, the fact that he made the time to come during his own wife's medical issues was something that I know meant a lot to Dawn - but also to me. He, of course, was devoted to his wife and her care. It was, after all, his primary responsibility. But he also knew he had to find time to see his daughter and did so. The sacrifices he made during this time were immense.

Over the past two years, we have had a number of conversations - part commiseration over our shared losses, part optimism over our futures. We reminisced about the past and talked about what we were going to do in the next few weeks. We continued to live. The last time I talked with him was at Christmas. We talked over the phone to wish each other a happy holiday and discussed getting together to go out to lunch in the upcoming year. Unfortunately, that lunch date never came to pass. 

While I am sad that I was unable to have a final lunch with my father-in-law, his passing should not be a time to wallow in sadness and regret. It should be a time to celebrate our memories - personal and shared - with Bob. For he lived 89 amazing years. And, to his final days, continued to fight to live as many more as possible. Rest in Peace, Bobbo!