Why Her? Why Not Me?: A Series of Deep Familial Misfortunes, Including the Loss of Two Wives, Tests the Mettle of an Advanced-Aged Father Charged with Raising Two Sets of Generationally-Separated Children

By Roland J. Bain

This life story traces a major segment of Rolands adult life, an adult life riddled with devastating personal events. During the past thirty years, Roland has had ample opportunities to indulge in self-pity and to become extremely deft at it. In large part, this stems from the parade of very unique and scarring events that have beset his two sets of children and himself: (1) his having to singly raise his five children after his wife of seventeen years abandons him and their children for another man; (2) his having married a young lady, twenty-seven years his junior (Roland 52, his wife 25); (3) his having fathered two more sons, the youngest born when Roland was sixty years old, the other who was at deaths door at age four due to kidney cancer; (4) both he and his wife having been diagnosed with cancer within a five-week period, her with breast cancer, Roland with prostate cancer; (5) his wife dying at age forty-six and the associated emotional devastation experienced by their two young sons and himself; (6) and, for the second time in his life, the necessity of this now seventy-four-year-old parent having to singly raise his children. The support of Rolands family and friends and, especially, his Catholic faith gave him the courage and spirit to push through these incredible hardships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Sep 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781982209452

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE FIRST TRAUMATIC EVENT

During those infrequent occasions when I call a time-out to reflect on life, I marvel at the human being’s ability to survive life’s pitfalls and traumatic events. In my case, I’ve survived two wives leaving me and our children. In the first case I had the mission of singly raising 5 children and in the second, only two. After 17 years of marriage my first wife divorced me and gave me full custody of our children. I was 44-years-old. My second wife, the mother of our two children was 27 years my junior. At the time of our marriage she was 25-years-old; I was 52. At the time of her traumatic departure I was 74-years-old. I can readily add to life’s pitfalls and traumatic events, the ugly role that cancer played in our lives and the blessing of survival, at least for some of us.

The events surrounding my second marriage serve as the central premise of these writings.

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My first wife and I met while we were students at UCLA. She was a business major, and I, a petroleum geology major. She was a member of a sorority and I, a fraternity, the link having facilitated our meeting each other. Once we realized we were in love, the traditional sequence of events commenced, beginning with our becoming pinned. A year later we were married, this followed by the arrival of our first child the following year (1956). Just prior to our son’s birth I was notified that I had been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to conduct research for a year at the French Petroleum Institute near Paris, France.

We were faced with a dilemma; to accept or to decline? It was a difficult decision to make. After much discussion, we decided to accept the award and to prepare ourselves for this new adventure. Our son was two months old when we arrived in Paris. After adjusting to the new lifestyle and culture, we enjoyed this great adventure.

During the next five years the other children, including twins, were born at roughly two-year intervals, with the result that we had 5 children under 5-years-old. It’s safe to say that we didn’t have much free time.

As the years passed and the children grew older, my wife decided to return to college. My having my office in our home facilitated her taking late afternoon and early evening classes. Even before she received a Master’s Degree in psychology, she joined a group in her department whose mission was to formulate a program specifically designed for the police department. A special group of police officers were to be trained to counsel problem students at various school campuses.

Her absence from home grew in tempo with her involvement in the program. As time and events progressed, it became clear that our marriage was in distress. The minimal amount of counseling we tried did not help. After 17 years of marriage she made the decision to seek a divorce.

The day my wife moved out I felt as if a huge hole had opened and swallowed me whole. It seemed as if my brain activity ceased and numbness filled my body. Life no longer held importance for me. And I couldn’t have been more ill-prepared to face the future that awaited the children and me, a future that frightened me.

Having to be available 24/7 for the children was highly demanding. How does a person learn to manage a household overnight? How do you learn to prepare meals with virtually no notice, let alone having no experience? With the two-story house came many responsibilities. Doling out the chores brought with it yelps of unfairness, allusions to child-labor laws, and the like. To a degree. the system I devised for the children worked, which helped to ease my workload. Also, the fact that they were good-to-excellent students, was another factor that eased some of the burden. Having one daughter and four boys, of course, presented other problems. She was involved in much of the bickering and complaining, some of this in self-defense. All too often she was an easy target for her brothers. Without question, we needed an adult woman in the house.

From the outset, the tasks of preparing meals and doing the related shopping were challenges for me. I began trying to scope out a week’s worth of meals at a time. My twelve-year-old daughter chipped in as best she could. Her specialty was tuna casserole and I let her make it whenever she felt like it. I’m surprised that we still like tuna, casserole!

My mother also had been a blessing. Periodically, she would spend several days with us during which time she would cook up a storm until we had a freezer full of dinners. Also, because she was a world-class seamstress, the mending pile would disappear during her visits.

My office was in my home at that time, which made for a convenient arrangement, at least to a point. While the children were in school it was easy enough to get some work done. When the children were at home, though, distractions were many and often. It was not an environment conducive to working.

Following a lengthy period of intermittent contact with her children, my ex-wife began interacting more closely with her children by having them occasionally join her for dinner at her apartment. In time, this led to them having dinner with her on Sundays. Regardless of my personal feelings, I began looking forward to Sundays. Any and all relief in the meal-preparation department was gratefully accepted.

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At the time of my wife’s departure, the age of the children ranged from 10 to 15 years. The timing of her departure coincided with the early phase of the 1960s/1970s drug culture (the Haight-Ashbury, Flower Child, Free Love culture), as well as the ushering in of the anti-Establishment era. Another element of the new and growing culture was the if it feels good, do it mantra. What a challenge all of this was for me, a product of old-school thinking.

Even in this chaos-filled lifestyle, at the end of the day I was beginning to experience increasing loneliness. The children had their friends and outside activities to keep them busy. Often enough I was tempted to visit a local bistro just to mingle with adults. And with my office located in my house, the potential for interacting with adults, other than on the phone, was minimal.

Yes, the divorce and custody of five children had plunged me into a huge emotional hole. My ego was crushed. There I was at age forty-four with virtually no social life. Eventually, however, I did start dating, thanks in large part to friends setting me up with blind dates. As reluctant I was to engage in blind dates, I did enjoy the female companionship. I learned early that it was highly unlikely that a serious relationship could develop with those I dated, primarily because each of them had been married, and each had custody of a child or children. I certainly wasn’t looking to add children to my already-substantial brood. Of course, I doubt that anyone I dated was interested in marrying into a family of five children, essentially each of them a teenager.

Until I started dating I hadn’t realized that divorce was so prevalent. I felt sorry for most of those I dated as they seemed to be experiencing the same trauma that I had endured. As in my case, they were struggling for survival. Because of my own experiences at home, I also pitied their children.

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Five years after my wife had divorced me and had giving me full custody of our children, I was a very tired and depressed soul. The never-ending demands of maintaining our home and the needs of my children, had an impact on my consultancy. Too often my heart just was not into meeting the obligations of my work. This had to change.

Even though it was a tumultuous and hugely demanding time for me, one of the greatest events in my life was about to happen —meeting the one of the finest and loveliest persons I’ve had the pleasure to meet. There was no way that I could have divined the incredible events that would follow.

CHAPTER 2

MEETING NANCY

AND DOES AGE DIFFERENCE

REALLY MATTER?

One of the greatest blessings of my life happened five years after my wife of 17years left me and our 5 children -- I met Nancy. What a God send! I met her on her first day of employment in a men’s clothing store. I won’t say it was love at first sight, but I was really impressed the moment I saw her. Without question, this very attractive young woman activated my emotional center.

What an engaging smile I received as she approached and asked if she could be of assistance. Thanks to her, the shopping experience was one to remember. She was so refreshing and outgoing. All too soon it was time to pay. As we headed to the cash register I asked her name. A cheerful, Nancy, was her answer. I responded with, My name’s Roland, and please try to remember it. My smile was in concert with hers. I then asked how long she had worked at the store. I was surprised when she said it was her first day. Oh my gosh, I said, Well, the best of luck to you. Thanks, was accompanied by another great smile. Following a growing pause, Well, I’ll leave you to your first day of putting up with men. Hope to see you soon. Me, too, was her goodbye.

As I left the store, I was certain that, indeed, I was very impressed with this charming young lady and that I definitely wanted to see her again. This impulse was without the benefit of sufficient time to scope out my reasoning. There was no question that she was very attractive but, at the same time, she was relative young. I guessed that she was in her early twenties. And there I was in my late forties. Apparently, my emotions were dictating my feelings? Was I reacting to the warmth and the friendliness and openness I received from her or was the weight of my familial demands leading me to find an outlet for my emotions? At that point in time it didn’t matter; I was determined to see her again, age difference or no age difference, family responsibilities or not.

Unfortunately, I was scheduled to leave for Europe just days after this wonderful shopping experience. And I’d be gone for a month. Chances are she wouldn’t remember me. My gosh, is she married. I hadn’t bothered to look at her ring finger. Next time.

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Shortly after my return, I headed for the store hoping all the way that she would be working. My daughter’s asking if she could accompany me to the mall presented a potential problem. Logically, her shopping plans did not include a men’s store.

As I made my way into the store, my mind’s radar scanned the large room. There she was! Very subtly, I maneuvered around so that, if luck were with me, she would be the one to wait on me. And it worked. As she approached, I greeted her with a cheerful, Hi, Nancy. It really surprised her. I received a quizzical look in response. Her facial expression signaled she wasn’t sure who I was. Things clicked slightly when I reminded her of our having met on her first day of work. Cocking her head backward slightly, she laughed and said, Oh my gosh, uh, yes, uh. She was groping for words. While shaking my head and frowning, I jokingly said, Great, I’ll bet you don’t even remember my name. She tilted her head backward, closed her eyes and said, I’m sorry. Quickly I said, listen, no problem. Then, Ok, enough of this. It’s Roland, now let’s get this show on the road. I came to shop, not to toss a quiz at you. Her smile added to the beauty of her face. As inconspicuously as possible I glanced at her ring finger. No ring! Yeah!

Similar to my first visit she cheerfully escorted me around the store. The visit was meeting all expectations when, suddenly, I saw my daughter enter the store. Oh, oh, was my reaction. I couldn’t have Nancy learning about my secret life. I looked at my watch and told her that I had to rush off. While looking over my shoulder to track my daughter’s movements, I quickly payed for my purchases and offered a quick, stumbling goodbye to Nancy. I hurried to my daughter and ushered her right out of the store. What a look I got from her!

During the months that followed, I visited the store virtually every week.

Very subtly, I learned that Saturdays were the only fixed day she worked. Her school schedule held too many variables. She was working on her bachelor’s degree in math at a local university. Her mental skills added oh so nicely to her physical appeal. Needless to say, I was at the store virtually every Saturday.

Naturally, I couldn’t very well be in the store and not buy something. I bought clothing of one sort or another that I never wore. My sons and The Salvation Army were the recipients of many of my purchases. At a later point I became so well known in the store that the manager once asked me to help with the annual inventory.

Finally, after many visits to the store, I worked up the nerve to make my move. As casually as possible I mentioned that, because she had to have realized substantial commissions from my purchases, it was only reasonable that she take me out to lunch. It worked! She agreed. Amazing! The obvious age difference didn’t seem to bother her. I learned that she was 22-years old; I was 49. Good Lord, I was old enough to be her father! At least to this point she showed no signs that age was an issue. How about me? What were my plans, my intentions? Things were progressing so