Mom, imagine this: dads new wife is ill, and theyre saying its something serious.
Let me tell you about an episode that happened to me ten years ago. My husband and I raised two daughters, who have now gone off to university. I had been looking forward to this stage of life, hoping we would start fresh together, but he chose a different path and cheated on me with his secretary.
Im sorry, I never meant to hurt you, he said, but I love her deeply.
That night he packed his things and left for the woman half his age. Our daughters were furious with their father and stopped speaking to him. It was a painful time for me, especially as the younger woman kept trying to reconcile us in various ways. I wanted to erase that year from my memory, yet time didnt heal my wounds; it only taught me to live with them. I threw myself into my hobby, cultivating exotic plants and selling them, which kept me from sinking into depression.
Eventually my daughters made peace with their dad and would occasionally tell me about his new life. He seemed happy with the woman, and later she gave birth to a son.
Mom, can you believe it? Shes sick, and doctors say its serious.
Girls, stop talking about them, I told my daughters, I dont like it. I still loved my husband, and the thought of him with another woman weighed heavily on me. Years passed, and I still regarded him as my spouse.
One Saturday morning I awoke to see a figure standing over me. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then my husband spoke in a trembling voice: Im sorry, I know its early, but I dont know what to do with the boy. He was old, his hair silvered, and a small child stood behind him. I realized it was his son.
My wife passed away last night, he continued, I have to arrange a funeral, the girls are working, and I cant take him. Hes too young for that.
The boy was of preschool age. I was confused, but he immediately asked:
Are you my aunt?
No, I replied sharply, wishing the conversation to end.
My mother said theres no one.
I never even met your mother.
He was so sweet that I understood the child bore no blame, and I decided to help my exhusband.
Do you like oatmeal? Come with me to the kitchen, have breakfast, and then dad will pick you up.
I made coffee for myself and oatmeal for the boy. Watching him, I saw a likeness to my daughters when they were little. We spent the morning watching cartoons and reading old girls books. He was kind and wise.
Since then my former husband began bringing his son over, and we grew close friends. My daughters arent thinking about having children yet, so the boy has become a sort of surrogate grandson for me.
Two years have passed since his wifes death, and he recently asked me to move in together. Deep down I want it, because I imagine an ideal family, but the old hurt still lingers and Im not sure I can trust him again.
If we cant make it work, it could only hurt the child. I love them both, yet the fear of being deceived again never leaves me.
