The burden of the patriarch

I attended a murder trial recently that involved tragic of circumstances. A man was killed by his son and another man. The trial was for the man's ex-wife, who was convicted of murder, too.

As the trial unfolded, I was impressed with the family of the murder victim, especially his elderly father, the oldest living relative -- the family patriarch.

During the trial many people spoke of the ex-wife's vindictiveness after her husband received custody of the children during a contested hearing. The testimony showed that she taught her two children to hate their father.

One of the people who testified was the man's daughter. He learned about her five years after her birth. By that time he had married and started his family. The man's father testified that his son began paying child support from the day he learned of this daughter and did all he could to bring her into their extended family and make her feel welcome.

Two days before his death, she changed her last name to the name of her father. The day he died, the father was going to give her a new car he had purchased for her. It was parked in his driveway when he was killed.

One of the most heartbreaking points of the trial was when the man's father was on the stand talking about his relationship with his son. The father had lost his wife about a year before his son died. After his mother's death, the son made a point of visiting his father frequently. In fact, they had coffee together and talked every morning. Those morning sessions ended with the son's death.

The father testified that he now sometimes drives his truck around town in the morning with no real purpose or place to go. He referred to himself as an old fool.

I have thought about the words and demeanor of this "old fool" and come to my own conclusion that he is anything but that. He was a resolute, solemn figure during the trial. The grace with which he handled his pain and suffering was an inspiration to his family. To me, he stood out as a weathered patriarch, who stood firm in spite of the storm that raged all around him.

It was impressive to me that during much of the trial, this man's granddaughter, the only one of his son's offspring that his ex-wife could not influence, sat next to him. I know that they comforted and strengthened each other during what was a terrible, but necessary, process.

The patriarch and the granddaughter found each other years ago because after making one mistake -- fathering a child out of wedlock -- the son chose not to treat the gift he was given as another mistake. He treated his daughter well -- in many families she would have been shunned or mistreated. His father and the rest of his siblings learned long ago to love the girl.

And when tragedy struck and the old patriarch needed to be sustained, she was there. I know, because I saw it.

I just wish I lived closer to the "old fool" and knew what kind of truck he was driving because if I did, I would honk and wave just to let him know that somebody cares. Since I don't think I'll have this opportunity, I am just going to treat people well, like he does. That way if I'm ever old and withered and all my friends have been taken from me, I can be at peace and know that there will still be people who care.

That may have been the only gift the patriarch left the courtroom with was knowing that people care. Now that's something to think about while your driving in the car.