I don't blame my in-laws for assuming I would only be a fleeting part of their daughter's life

From left, this was Judy, Terry, me and Tom on our wedding day (June 6, 1992). I'm sure Judy and Tom did not see this coming when they first met me six years earlier.

Today would have been my in-laws' 63rd wedding anniversary. Tom and Judy were married on July 1, 1961, but sadly, neither is still around to celebrate the milestone.

I vividly remember the first time I met them. Terry and I had been dating for a couple of weeks when she brought me home for the first time in mid-March 1986. I feel like it was a Saturday afternoon, but I can't be sure of that.

Tom and Judy were relaxing in their living room when we walked in and Terry introduced me. I was on my best, most polite 16-year-old boy behavior and said something to the effect of, "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ross."

They returned the sentiment, but in a decidedly half-hearted way. It's not that they were impolite or anything, but they didn't leap out of their chairs to greet me, either.

The reason for this, I found out sometime later, was that they figured I wasn't going to be in the picture for very long. According to Terry, they thought she was in a fickle stage and would be moving from boy to boy for the foreseeable future.

I was also a kid from school and not someone from church, which undoubtedly colored their initial assessment of me somewhat.

We all know how things turned out, of course. I stuck around for the rest of both of their lives. (And let it be known, a few years after Terry and I started dating, I also began regularly attending the Church of the Blessed Hope. So really, how bad could I have been?)

I've always found this story to be funny, but I've also reached the point in life where I kind of get it, too.

Terry and I have raised five kids into adulthood. For better or worse, we know how most high school relationships end. Tom and Judy had no reason to think the kid in the jean jacket standing in their living room trying to impress them would play any role in their family's long-term future.

What were the odds they would never manage to get rid of me? As my dad would have said, slim to none, and Slim just left town.

Yet, in the face of any reasonable expectation, here we are.

I miss them both. Before they each passed away, I would have appreciated one more opportunity to look them square in the eye and say, in all sincerity, "I told you so."

It's the silly stuff your children and grandchildren will remember about you

I'm typing this just hours after we held my father-in-law Tom's Celebration of Life service at our church. It was a wonderfully fun and emotional time as we remembered a man who played such an important role in each of our lives.

As we heard stories about Tom from his children and grandchildren, what struck me was the kinds of memories they chose to share.

Some were about the important life lessons Tom taught, but more often than not, it was the silly stuff that stuck in their minds.

Like how, when the kids rode in a car with him and things got too quiet, Tom would suddenly yell. Out of nowhere he would let out a scream, causing everyone in the car to jump and then laugh.

Or the way, when my sister-in-law Chris and brother-in-law Dave were little, they would hide from their dad under the kitchen table when it was time to go upstairs for bed. He would playfully try (and intentionally fail) to reach down and grab them as they slithered away from him under the table, all while giggling, of course. Finally he would "catch" them, tickle them, and put them up on his shoulders to head for their bedrooms.

Or how funny he thought he was when he would greet my youngest son with a hearty "Hi Jack!", followed by a sly grin and a hastily added, "You shouldn't ever say that on an airplane."

No one thought Tom was funnier than Tom did.

The point is, your kids and grandkids may or may not remember the serious, weighty stuff you tell them – though I hope they do – but they'll almost always retain the stuff you said and did when you were just being Mom, Dad, Grandma or Grandpa.

If you're still blessed to have young ones in your house, or to be their grandparent, that's not a bad thing to keep in mind as the years roll by.

Helping your spouse through the death of a parent

My father-in-law Tom passed away a month ago, and as you might imagine, his three kids have had a rough go of it.

My wife has reacted exactly how you would expect my wife to react if you know her: She was very emotional upon hearing the news at the hospital, but while she has inevitably been teary-eyed several times since, for the most part she has kept it together.

Terry is not a crier. It takes a lot for her to cry, but that doesn't mean she is unfeeling. She loves intensely.

Having been married to her for 31 years, and having known her for nearly 38, I know there is very often more going on underneath the surface than others might realize. That's why I've tried my best to support her through this rough patch, the likes of which most of us have to endure at one point or another in our lives.

When my own dad died in 1999, Terry was wonderful. I don't think I ever told her this, but she made the whole experience much, much easier by doing the small stuff that helps others grieve.

Here are three things I learned from her and from others who have had to help their spouses deal with the death of a parent. If/when you find yourself in the same situation, maybe these suggestions will be useful:

Your primary job is to listen
You can offer words of comfort, of course, but you're mainly there to lend a sympathetic ear and a supportive shoulder. Many of us – Terry included – need to talk our way through the grieving process. Even when we're not sure what to do or how to deal with a particular emotion, we're generally not looking to you for a solution. We'll get there on our own. What we need mostly is for you to listen as we talk about what we're feeling and share our memories of Mom or Dad. (SIDE NOTE: Your spouse may tell you the same story or anecdote several times without realizing it. That's OK. Let them repeat themselves. Just keep listening.)

Whatever your spouse needs, you're available
This is easy in the hours after a parent passes away and even for the first week afterward. It's such an emotional time that you'll do anything for your significant other on the strength of nothing more than love and adrenaline. It's the weeks and months after that, when you may naturally be trying to get back to something resembling your "normal" life, that your partner will still need your support. Whatever it is, from running an errand to hauling stuff out of your in-laws' now-vacant home, you need to do it. You may have other real-life responsibilities to attend to, but your spouse takes priority. Whatever they want or need, do it.

Give them (and yourself) a little grace
No one grieves "perfectly," just as no one is perfect at being the supportive partner of a grieving person. You need to know that you'll probably make mistakes, and that's just fine. You also need to remind your husband/wife there's no set process for grieving. They should go at their own pace. Just be there. Just listen. In everything you do, be motivated by love. That will be more than enough.