a love story

This is a big day. My dad’s getting married. Indeed, my little sister Becca and I are going to walk our father down the aisle. Crazy or what?

You may not know, but we lost our mom about 2 ½ years ago to bladder cancer after she had been sick about that long. Most people will at some point live a similar experience of seeing their parents wither and die, but nevertheless it’s an especially marking thing to encounter in your teens and early twenties, as Becca and I were.

Not just the sickness and death, either; one of the most surprising things to me about it all was the adjustment we had to go through as a family afterwards. I’ve often likened it to a dog that has lost a leg. At first he can barely get around and falls all over the place, but over time he learns to walk and even run. I guess that’s what it felt like to me. The three of us dealt differently with our grief, but somehow managed to gain a new balance and a new wholeness as a family.

In the middle of this period of trying to find some kind of equilibrium, a red-headed lady named Joan came into my dad’s life. They were friends and then casually dated for a while, each of them, I think, needing simple companionship. At first, Becca and I were, frankly, disturbed. After all, we found out about their relationship a few months after our mom had passed away, and it seemed too soon. (In later conversations I would find out that it’s common for men to feel a need to “move on” (though it’s hardly that) quickly after their wife dies.)

So it was that for a few months, we knew about Joan but didn’t know her. Dad didn’t say too much about her. Then, little by little, we learned more about her, and began to sense that our dad was feeling a bit more serious towards her. Eventually we met Joan, and then her daughter Lauren, and then Lauren’s boyfriend, and then, last night, her brothers and their families.
As I tell people, be they friends or customers at Eddie’s, that my dad’s getting married, I get the most interesting reactions. Some who know our story get a little tense and ask, “How are you doing with that?” as if I’m going to burst into tears at the thought. Others are congratulatory. Either way, I generally kind of shrug, and half smile, and say something like, “I’m good. It’s good.”

And in summary, it’s the truth. But of course, I’m a 24-year-old girl. It’s a mixed bag of complex emotions that haven’t yet hit me in the face.

1. Not to force the issue, but my mom is gone. My dad putting a new wedding band on his finger is something like hammering the last nail into the casket. It’s final.
   
2. We’ve got to find a new balance now; the dog is getting a prosthesis (not that Joan resembles a wooden leg!) and will have to learn to walk yet again.
   
3. We’re gaining a mother figure – Yay! Becca and I have both noticed how we’ve yearned for that since our mom died, often clinging to older women in our lives. And while Joan is vastly different from our mom in some ways, she’s amazing—nurturing, social, crafty, chic. She has a lot to impart to us.
   
4. We’re gaining a sister as well. Lauren’s great, too; she’s just a bit younger than I am, funny, and intelligent. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to get to know one another really well yet, so things there are still a bit jerky thanks to my social awkwardness. Luckily, though, Lauren’s moving back to KC this summer, so we’ll have a lot more time together.
   
5. Lastly, there’s the seemingly superficial realm of the home. Joan and Lauren have graciously agreed to move into our house, leaving behind their dream home in Brookside. I can tell it’s gut-wrenching to both of them. Not only that, but of course the two family units have to consolidate furniture and other odds and ends, so we’re all weeding through what we own and getting rid of doubles. It’s when you have to do something like that that you discover the wealth of memories contained in a single object, and for sentamentalites like myself, it can be a bit rough. But so it goes.

So yeah, it’s good. I’m good. I love these processes that are so incredibly human. It’s messy, it’s hard. We can bet there are going to be bumps in the road. But I like stuff like that. And in the meantime, it’s cause for dressing up and going to a party. Which I’m going to do right now.