Dear Mom,
We’ve had endless conversations about the divorce and its aftermath, but I want you to know that I’m not upset anymore. I'm not upset at you, not at Dad, and not even at the situation. When the wounds were fresh, I would have kicked and screamed until things went back to “normal,” but I’ve realized that that’s a selfish way to act. I think that you need to know that I only behaved that way because change wasn’t something that I could handle easily. Instead, I would find faults in those who you liked, denying anyone entrance into our lives because we’d been hurt in the past. Still, you persevered.
I always admired you for being able to open up your heart to people when you didn’t think that you could open it to yourself and I have to admit that you’re wiser than me. When I first saw the guy who you’re about to marry, I must say I nearly had a heart attack. I was younger and all that I could see was him towering over you like a statue with rugged features. I didn’t know what to say upon our introduction. His white hair threw me off and I couldn’t decipher whether he was as intimidating as his physical appearance suggested. Luckily, you could see that he isn’t.
I was frightened when you told me that he was moving in because that meant that our families would be forced to integrate. No, I didn’t have to share a room with a step-sibling or share my mom’s love with a semi-stranger. We were too old for all of that and I was the last one at home. I just knew that him moving in implied busier dinner tables during holidays, more birthdays that I’d have to remember, and more gifts that I’d have to buy annually. While that seems petty, they were distractions. I didn't want to think about how I felt because I knew that you felt that the situation was fine. I had only ever known how to have my dad as the male figure in my life, but then you brought me another. This isn’t to say, though, that he is replacing my dad. In fact, now I have fathers in two different places.
As time went on, I noticed that you smiled more than you used to. You made the same jokes about every day being Tuesday and you still message me the lyrics to "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" whenever I forget to respond to a text. So much has changed, yet so much hasn’t changed at all.
I’m writing you this because you deserve my blessing. Usually, you’d be the one to give me your blessing, but it’s about you this time. Of course, he’s not perfect, but neither are you or me. I would love, more than anything else, to make our imperfect family just a little bit bigger.
May we always find the “fun” in dysfunctional and the solidarity that UDF milkshakes and road trips bring.
Love always,
Your daughter
