I've been thinking a lot (and writing too, I guess) about my Mom and her death but I haven't mentioned my Dad's second wife and her family.
About 2 years after my Mom died, my Dad got remarried to a wondeful woman named Joan. I still call her Joan but my sister calls her Mom because she is the only mom that she remembers. My sister was 6 when they married and I was 13. My father did things right in my opinion. He raised us singlehandedly for those 2 years and went through a lot, all on his own. He was a bit taken aback when I got my first period, but I guess I can understand that. He called my Gram to come over and help with my incessant crying and refusal to go to school because of it. She took me out shopping and to lunch. He left me alone in my misery for awhile. I did have a conversation with him about the time after my Mom died, and his only regret was that he did not make us go to therapy to deal with her struggle and death. But goddamn, he was 32, had just lost his wife after fighting the disease along with her for 7 years. He was thrown into single parenthood (of 2 girls at that). He couldn't do my sister's hair. That part was quite amusing. You should have seen the concoctions he came up with. I took over that part. He fed us, made sure we were clothed and grieved along with us. I can't fathom what he went through.
In any event, he met Joan through work. He sat me down and asked for my permission to go on a date with her. Even through my anger, I believed that he had the right to be happy so I said that he could go. Joan did make my Dad happy. I was not, but attempted to pretend that I was. He wouldn't let her stay over or move in until after they were married. Thinking back, this was a really nice thing to do for all of us. Joan is a lovely woman although slightly meek and mild. I tried not to, but I'm sure I pushed her buttons. I have to have. At that point I was an angry teenager with a grudge against life. But I was never mean to her (I hope) and tried to like her. She had the patience of a saint.
Eventually I grew to love her and think of her as a mother figure. I still couldn't bring myself to call her Mom. I knew my mother but Joan became "Jo", and she is still to this day. Although now she is my Jo. I've had her in my life longer than I had my own mother.
When Jo was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was devastated. I'd already been through this before and all I could think was "You've got to be fucking kidding me!". But she fought hard, and they caught it early and she won! She is still on the oral chemo but I don't care because she's still alive and I love her.
Jo even grew to be part of my Mom's family. They call her Aunt Joan and she is invited (as is my Dad) to family functions that they wouldn't necessarily be invited to if it was another family. For god's sake, they are invited to the family reunions. And they go. I love that! And I love my Mom's side because they have accepted her and still include my Dad, even though they went through the tragic experience of losing a sister, aunt, daughter. My Dad and Jo would even make it a point to go and visit my Mom's dad when they were in the area.
All in all, my Dad and Jo are awesome and I love them dearly. More about Jo's family and their acceptance of me and my sister later (its a good thing!)...
About 2 years after my Mom died, my Dad got remarried to a wondeful woman named Joan. I still call her Joan but my sister calls her Mom because she is the only mom that she remembers. My sister was 6 when they married and I was 13. My father did things right in my opinion. He raised us singlehandedly for those 2 years and went through a lot, all on his own. He was a bit taken aback when I got my first period, but I guess I can understand that. He called my Gram to come over and help with my incessant crying and refusal to go to school because of it. She took me out shopping and to lunch. He left me alone in my misery for awhile. I did have a conversation with him about the time after my Mom died, and his only regret was that he did not make us go to therapy to deal with her struggle and death. But goddamn, he was 32, had just lost his wife after fighting the disease along with her for 7 years. He was thrown into single parenthood (of 2 girls at that). He couldn't do my sister's hair. That part was quite amusing. You should have seen the concoctions he came up with. I took over that part. He fed us, made sure we were clothed and grieved along with us. I can't fathom what he went through.
In any event, he met Joan through work. He sat me down and asked for my permission to go on a date with her. Even through my anger, I believed that he had the right to be happy so I said that he could go. Joan did make my Dad happy. I was not, but attempted to pretend that I was. He wouldn't let her stay over or move in until after they were married. Thinking back, this was a really nice thing to do for all of us. Joan is a lovely woman although slightly meek and mild. I tried not to, but I'm sure I pushed her buttons. I have to have. At that point I was an angry teenager with a grudge against life. But I was never mean to her (I hope) and tried to like her. She had the patience of a saint.
Eventually I grew to love her and think of her as a mother figure. I still couldn't bring myself to call her Mom. I knew my mother but Joan became "Jo", and she is still to this day. Although now she is my Jo. I've had her in my life longer than I had my own mother.
When Jo was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was devastated. I'd already been through this before and all I could think was "You've got to be fucking kidding me!". But she fought hard, and they caught it early and she won! She is still on the oral chemo but I don't care because she's still alive and I love her.
Jo even grew to be part of my Mom's family. They call her Aunt Joan and she is invited (as is my Dad) to family functions that they wouldn't necessarily be invited to if it was another family. For god's sake, they are invited to the family reunions. And they go. I love that! And I love my Mom's side because they have accepted her and still include my Dad, even though they went through the tragic experience of losing a sister, aunt, daughter. My Dad and Jo would even make it a point to go and visit my Mom's dad when they were in the area.
All in all, my Dad and Jo are awesome and I love them dearly. More about Jo's family and their acceptance of me and my sister later (its a good thing!)...
hooray,
ReplyDeletelong live aunt joan and unle tii had a great time chillin last night...
doesn't it feel gangsta' to be chillin in a hot tub!
I'm really happy to read all your posts. I feel like you've really got some peace now, and you deserve it. I know the pain, the anger, the confusion, the whatever else never goes away, but I can see that it has settled in you. I remember when you told me that Joan had breast cancer...I had the same reaction that you did! Like you hadn't been through enough already...
ReplyDeleteAlso, I am very jealous of Eric's ability to write in such truly ghetto terms. I am from BROOKLYN for God's sake, and I don't think I'd know which words to leave the ending off of...
CQ...you should hear him in person!
ReplyDeleteAnya...nice! And it's interesting to see your perspective on this...I always thought about that when we were kids (aunt cindy being the tie)...BUT I'm SOOOO glad that we never let you guys go! Hell...what would we do without Unci TimBoy! :-D Joanie was a welcome addition to our family and is a very special lady!