I have written this article a thousand times in my head.
Jean Paul Jacob was my father-in-law. He died in his sleep on the night of Monday 5 October, in a nursing home in Brittany, in the west of France. I met him in 1993 and started living at his house in 1994. I was the then boyfriend of his eldest daughter. English to boot, so doomed from the start.
His eldest daughter is now my wife and we have had two children together, so I was in for the long haul. He tested me, as he did all newcomers to the family. I won’t say it was easy, because it wasn’t, and to be honest sometimes il me cassait les couilles! However, he was part of my introduction to French life.
And how French he was. He loved to argue and would push you to your limit in verbal jousting. He loved to be right. Therefore I was wrong. Over the years that never changed, but it grows on you, and you learn a lot of French on the journey. I just wish he could have been a little more subtle.
That jousting taught me French in a way that would have been impossible from any of my school teachers, however brilliant they were and however hard they tried. He was stubborn, but so am I, and I feel his passing very deeply all the same.
He had his expressions that were so French, including the word con, and how a con never changes his mind. I was also a failure because I knew nothing of DIY. Even now it gives me the heebie-jeebies, and my wife does all the jobs around the house. Buy her a power tool and she’s happy.
I would cook with him, and I learnt that the only right way to enjoy a steak haché is flambéed in brandy, with heavy cream added to make the sauce. Don’t be afraid of fat. Sugar is the real enemy, and duck fat is a precious thing, especially when used to cook potatoes.
He saw me grow up and helped make me the man I am today. I think I grew on him in some kind of strange way, and as we got older we came to respect each other. Was he perfect? No, but nobody is. His passing brought his family closer together, and all ten of his grandchildren were there at his funeral.
In August I jokingly wrote about who’s next, thinking of the family elders. The truth hit harder.
I will miss this man who infuriated me, who taught me, but in a strange way loved me. He just wanted me to be the best possible version of myself, French, and employed. Two out of three isn’t too bad.
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Beautifully written. My condolences to you and all your family
Thanks Dave. The worst kind of thing to have to write, and you not allowed to mess it up!
I am sorry for your loss and I thank you for sharing this touching and beautiful story. You expressed so much in so few words.
If it’s any consolation, I don’t do DIY either so we are kindred “failures.”
On another note, I see that you took the image with an AE1. My first SLR was an AT1 which still resides in a drawer with three other camera.
Thank you. It’s always difficult to write about this kind of thing.
I have the AE1 and the AE1 Program. Both are great cameras. I was using the AE1 alot in 2016.