Modern Family

The children and I spent the last three days with family. It has been a long vacation and though I have barely packed – it was worth it. We spent one day with my sister, her husband and children. One day with my husband’s brother and family and today we spent with my husband’s ex-wife, her husband and my step-son.

I suppose we have the quintessential modern family. All I know is that my children have many people who love them and to me it doesn’t really matter how they came about. What is interesting to me is the family dynamics, especially when I spend time with my husband’s family without him. Over the last few months we have been trying very hard to spend more time with each other. It is not hard or awkward, just different.

In a way my husband’s death has made us all closer. I think we all appreciate what we have more than ever before and realize that family must and always does come first. In the beginning it was really sad for me to be with everyone without him. But now, over time I realize we are just making new memories and starting new traditions, rather than dwelling on the old ones.

Today we spent in Central Park. My husband’s ex-wife and I were discussing how there really isn’t a term for her. How many wives with dead husband’s hang out with the ex-wife? It probably seems very weird to an outsider, but to us it really just feels natural. Our children share a father who is no longer here and she and I are very much in the same boat in a lot of ways. I have always liked her and now I love and adore her and couldn’t imagine my life without her.

We never did come up with a term for each other – I will have to work on this – as my dead husband’s ex-wife is just too wordy for me. Maybe DHEW or something.

When the children and I got on the train home my four year old daughter only wanted to talk to me about my birthday. She asked where I was having the party. I said we could have a small party in the house. Who is invited? she asked. I said that she was, her brother and her Nana, who will be coming in to help with the move. She asked me, can daddy come? I said no, he can’t come. She just looked up at me and suddenly cried – I miss my daddy! Oh no, I thought and just hugged her tight as the train lurched along. I am sorry daddy isn’t here I said over and over. After a few moments she looked at me and I was waiting for the next whatever to come. Can I have my chocolate lollipop? She asked. Of course I said.

Later when I tucked her into bed she asked me, is everyone a little bit sad that my daddy died. I said yes they were. But they don’t look sad, she said. I told her that not everyone was going to cry every time she saw them but they still miss her daddy and are sad. She said I miss my daddy and I am a little bit sad – but I am not crying either. I said that was totally fine. Then she peacefully went to sleep.

I feel just like my four year old. I am sad and missing him but am not going to cry. Though I say this and the tears immediately well up in my eyes. But I am proud of myself for how I dealt with my demons over this past weekend. Maybe because a lot of the pictures are packed and the only images now are the ones in my head. I am proud of myself because every time I thought about anything horrible, I was able to just push it away somewhere and focus on the present.

I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I hope the pushing away doesn’t one day catch up with me. I have to believe that this won’t happen. I have lived and breathed with these awful images for months now. I have let them take over my heart and my mind freely for so long – they can’t – they just can’t protest when now I choose to tuck them away for a while.

We move in eleven days and the sun is shinning and I am trying with every ounce of my being to be fine with everything going on. I have called in the troops to help me pack next week. And if all else fails, I have my modern family.