It’s been more than 21 years since a tall, handsome, white-haired, kindhearted man walked into my life.
No, not this one.
Born Allen Shand, he was known to most as Al. The love of my life called him Dad, my own dad would come to call him brother, and he would eventually be promoted to Grandpa.
But for me, he will always be FFIL, pronounced Fuh-Fill.
The acronym stands for Future Father-in-Law, and was commonly used on wedding planning websites and message boards circa 2002. When I shared that with Al over dinner one night as we pored over menus and seating charts, his eyes crinkled, he laughed his deep belly laugh, and I immediately changed his contact in my phone to FFIL. And that’s how it remains to this day.
As we planned the event that would forever unite the only child of a small-town Causcasian family and the daughter of a large, loud, boisterous Middle Eastern clan, the top movie at the box office was “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” It was hard not to notice the similarities. Namely, that my side of the family was just a *tad* larger than my husband’s.
But unlike the fictional Ian Miller’s father, who took many months and several shots of ouzo to warm up to his new Greek family, FFIL’s embrace of our culture, our heritage, and our family was instant. It was also quite literal, and he was embraced right back.
My father and FFIL had a particularly close relationship, despite the 2.5 hour distance between them and their very different personalities. My dad, a reserved and serious physician, found much to talk about with the smiling, extroverted salesman with a passion for Egyptian history. The two of them would spend many long hours together discussing Egyptology, religion, or politics over steaming hot cups of tea, or the occasional backyard beer.
We called them the “Men of October,” and every year we’d do our best to get everyone together to celebrate their birthdays: my dad on the 1st, FFIL on the 11th, and my husband on the 17th.
As my dad’s health declined, FFIL was by his side, and when he lost his Egyptian brother in December 2020, FFIL proudly showed the world he was a man who was not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve…or his back.
Not that it was ever in doubt. I personally witnessed his heart expand exponentially not once, not twice, but three times.
We traveled to Egypt together in 2004, where he was finally able to see for himself the attractions he’d been studying for years.
But several times during that trip it was FFIL who became the attraction, with groups of kids in Cairo rushing up to take photos of the tall, jovial man with the white tennis shoes and even whiter hair.
I often wondered what they thought when they looked at those pictures. I hope they told their friends and family, “Today I met an American,” because they couldn’t have found a better specimen: a man who served his nation, loved his family, and was curious about the world and his place in it. He had an impeccable work ethic, from his childhood paper route days to his corporate career. He was as comfortable at a football game as at a ballet recital, and claimed to be the Uno champion of the family, though the kids beg to differ. He never complained, but was honest about his physical, mental, and spiritual challenges.
And when the Arabic music started up at a family wedding, he was the first one on the dance floor.
FFIL left us last week, and I know that when he arrived at his eternal destination he was greeted by so many, including a certain Egyptian who had been eagerly awaiting his arrival with a cup of tea. And I’m sure he heard the sweet words of our Lord telling him, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Or as I like to think of it, “Mission FFIL-ed.”
