My Pepe is, arguably, my favorite person ever. In all seriousness I love him much too much; so much it actually physically hurts sometimes.
When I was a wee-one and even into my late adolescence, I was incensed that there weren't greeting cards for a "Pepe" on the shelves of Hallmark. There existed cards for every "Grampy, Grand-dad, Grandfather, Papa and Pop-pop" out there but, alas, nothing for a "Pepe." It wasn't until later into my 20's I began to appreciate the scarcity of "Pepe." I like to pretend the word belongs to me, to him, and to our family.
I won't go into a whole back story of how much this man means to me, how I partially credit him for the woman I became, how he taught me the importance of hard work, perseverance, and family, or just how much he means to me; I think y'all get the picture.
As I said before, family is very important to me. When I began dating Aaron, before I met his family, I grilled him nonstop about them. What were they like?
[Fun, talkative, friendly, and loud.] Would they like me?
[Probably (that's comforting
).] Would they
get my sense of humor?
[Probably.] Would they be okay with me not being much of a talker but more of a listener? [
That might be hard for them to get used to.] Were they welcoming?
[Yes, if they like you.] And on and on and on.
I'm going to write the following in the past tense because that's how their personalities were relayed to me. Aaron described his family as very different from each other, which I found to be accurate.
He said his Mom was "warm, welcoming, generous, beautiful" (which I thought was so sweet) "and funny. But, she won't warm up to you right away." Again, accurate.
His brother, Matt, he assessed as being "a bit stand-off-ish until he gets to know you and then you will absolutely love Matt." (The first time I met Matt his first question for me, and this is no joke, was "Do you have any psychological conditions or take a prescribed medication for one?" Yikes... um, no and no.) I actually loved Matt immediately because I found his protectiveness of his brother endearing, although I pretended to be off put by the question, I was secretly amused with it.
"My Dad is a really hard worker. He works really hard, all the time. He can be kind of quiet. He isn't really warm and fuzzy but he loves his family. He seems distracted a lot. You'll probably have the hardest time bonding with my Dad."
J: "Why? Do you think he won't like me?"
A: "No, he'll like you just fine, I think, but he's not one to show a ton of emotion. But trust me, if anyone in my family doesn't like you, you'll know."
I could go over every detail of why I feel blessed to be a member of this family and the place each person in the Molloy clan holds in my heart but, that would defeat the purpose of this post. I need to discuss the tale of McPepe.
The first time I met Jim, Aaron's Dad, he was nothing like what I expected. He was friendly, warm, and spent the better part of one of our first visits going through a photo-album of a family trip to Italy. I remember him explaining each photo in great detail, "Here, the boys did this", and "Linny and I were ____" and, "You should see the picture Aaron once took. There was a bird that flew in at just the right moment..." Really, I wasn't at all bored and one thing that struck me was his ability to recall the details of each picture. Maybe it was the therapist in me but I began to notice, at every visit, his ability to recall specific details about "a teacher that Aaron hated in elementary school" and "the time his ear almost fell off" and "how Matt lived in France and didn't know about international phone calls and boy was that phone bill a surprise." What really struck me about these details were the fact that it wasn't simply rote memory. Yes, he did have a knack for remembering things but most of the things he remembered were tender things; memories from a cherished life that he paid attention to. I didn't find him to be at all distracted, I found him to be quite attentive, actually. My experience of him, thus far (and I study people for a living) is that he actually pays a lot of attention to things that are important to him.
About a year ago, a few months before we bought the house, I really just let myself be open with his family. Not in a "pour your heart out and tell the deepest of secrets" type of way (however, if Mom or Matt feeds me a margarita or three they can pretty much bypass the iron clad gate breaching my inner most being.) But when I say "
let myself be open," I mean open to letting my guard down. They learned about (some of) my life and a lot about my Pepe.
I remember when we were buying the house Jim and Linda were beyond helpful. There were several times I remember thinking, "this (house purchase/wedding planning) is going by so fast. I feel like I'm not stopping to enjoy it or remember it." Then the other part of me knew Jim would remember every detail and tell us all about it later; ex: "Remember when you thought everything was all ready to go and then they called you and needed that one last paper?" or "Remember how you decided last minute that you wanted cranberry for the wedding colors instead of brown and we had to find cat-a-nine tails for your flowers."
One day, after the raucous of the first 6 months of 2009 blew over (both Aaron & I and Matt & Nelson bought houses within months of each other and us four "kids" were basket cases) I remember having a conversation with Aaron about what we would call his dad.
J: "Do you think he would be called Pepe?"
A: "No."
J:
(crushed because the name Pepe, for me, comes with a ton of responsibility and I would never offer that name to just anybody) "Why?"
A: "My Dad has always said he will never be called Pepe. He's Irish. Molloy, in case you didn't know, is an Irish name."
J:
(Deep breath- still crushed but putting on sarcasm to mask any possibility that emotion will squeak out) "Oh really? Molloy is Irish? I had no idea."
A month or two after this conversation (and a margarita or three) I asked Jim, out loud at a family function,
J: "So,
(hesitant and scared) when Aaron and I have kids...
(gulp) will you let them call you 'Pepe'?"
Jim: "If you can promise me you'll have a daughter, she can call me "asshole" for all I care."
I didn't push the conversation much further because I figured he was either fine with it or he was trying not to break my little heart. When we got out to the car that night to head home this conversation ensued.
J: "That was fun. Dinner was good, huh?"
A: "My Dad loves you."
J: "Huh? What...how... why do you say that?"
A: "Because he's going to let you call him Pepe. My whole life he always said he would never be called Pepe."
J: "Well, I don't recall him saying yes to it. Actually, I think he wants to be called Asshole."
A: "No really, I think he's going to let you call him it! I can't believe it! He loves you."
J: "Interesting."
(GLOATING)
Nothing more was said of the name Jim would eventually take on. I didn't dare bring it up as I wanted him to mull it over. A few weeks later, however, he brought it up. "So, I was talking to so-and-so and I was telling him about how you want me to be called Pepe. So-and-so said 'Pepe! You're not French- you're Irish'
(Do people really need to remind us of this, LOL) so we had a good laugh and I think McPepe is more appropriate."
At first I was indifferent to "McPepe." I didn't know if I felt good about altering a name that was distinguishably held by my favorite person. Then, all that changed one day when I got a phone call from my father-in-law. It was a few days after the McPepe conversation happened, I wasn't home at the time and was in the midst of planning the wedding, searching for cranberries; I couldn't find any cranberries anywhere. I, of course, called Jim (not just because he is the produce extraordinaire but, because I know I can count on him.) I left him a frantic message about how I
needed cranberries for the wedding and I wanted
real cranberries and I
had to have them or basically my life would be ruined (I wasn't a bridezilla. I was actually a really calm bride but I wanted what I wanted.)
He called back, shortly after I made my frantic phone call, and left a message that went something like this
"Hey, it's McPepe. I got the cranberries. I had a few bags at the store. I'll bring em' home tonight. If you need anything else call me. Love ya kid." Now, I say the message went "something like this" but, let me level with you, I still have the message saved on my phone and I listen to it when I'm having a bad day. We all know deep down I'm a sappy cheeseball so I "paraphrase" but you know I know
exactly what the message says. :)
Immediately, after listening to the message, I knew he was to be McPepe. It just felt right. I know he will merit every ounce trust that comes with the name Pepe and even bring something different to the role. I know he'll have the impeccable memory, fierce dependability and gruff tenderness that I love about my very own Pepe but, he'll have endearing sarcasm, and offer the unconditional support and sincere thoughtfulness that puts the
Mc in McPepe.
Someday, a grandbaby will break the heart of McPepe-- and he will honor the name and remember, lovingly, every detail.
