Not my family

After my Dad was given an unpleasant prognosis in April, thoughts and images of death would flash in my mind. But I wanted to keep them away, and I wanted to put my trust in God. I had to keep going because my Dad kept going. If I would’ve let my mind wander, I would have fell apart. I had to stay focused and remember whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”


During my drives to and from class, I would have to fight back tears. I would push away thoughts about such things as his funeral, my future without him, the dying process, and other thoughts that made my heart weak.

But I never thought about this.

I did think about my Mom being alone. I was so heartbroken for her to become a widow, losing her high school sweetheart and her husband of 28 years. I thought about her being in a quiet house in a true empty nest and it made my stomach turn.

Why I didn’t entertain the thought of her finding someone else, I don’t know. Probably because I couldn’t picture her with anyone else but my Dad. And I didn’t think she could picture herself with anyone but her Rick.

I never ever thought about the possibility of a step-dad in my future. And if I ever have one, it would be weird to call him anything but his real name or “my Mom’s new husband.” Someone else marrying my Mom does not make him entitled to being a Dad, half-Dad, step-Dad, or anything-Dad.

Because I have a Dad and he’s in Heaven with my other Father. And I know that my Mom would not be marrying to replace my Dad, but her husband. But it’s still hard to swallow.

I only connected step families with divorcees. Not my family, not us. My parents were supposed to be married forever. ‘Til death do us part was supposed to be death of old age. I’m not the child of divorced parents.

It’s kind of like a divorced family in that I won’t have my Dad, Mom, and brother under one roof again. But I don’t have the option of seeing my Dad separately. The four of us together is a now a memory because my parents were parted by death.

I’m half an orphan and my Mom is a widow. My parents didn’t choose this, nor did anyone but God. But my Mom could choose a new husband someday.

My family will never be the same. And it definitely will be different if someone else “joins” it. If it was my choice, there wouldn’t be an open invitation. But is that fair to wish my Mom a lonely rest of her life? No. Is it fair for me to not have my parents together? No.

No part of it is fair. I’ll never like my Dad being gone and the situations that result. But at some point, I have to be more accepting and less bitter.

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