Blending Families

55 years ago today we posed for this wedding portrait when my father remarried. Coincidentally, it was the first day that Fifth Avenue traffic started to run one way. I was the youngest member of the wedding and the “Meh” expression on my face pretty much sums up how I felt about the whole thing.

My mother had died five years before and I thought we were doing just fine – thank you very much. Teachers ,friends and well wishers hugged me and told me how lucky I was to be getting a new mother. I thought they had seen the Sound of Music way too many times.

Eighteen months later, my father died unexpectedly and suddenly, and my one way journey, with my stepmother – as my court appointed guardian – began. From that day forward, we did things her way.

The people pleaser that I became then, and still am today, evolved from my role as the moderator and go between in our blended family. I ricocheted between my maternal grandparents and paternal uncles and stepmother, as the explainer in chief and holiday negotiator. My older sister left home to go to school in Pennsylvania and somehow I became the point person between her and the rest of the family too. The goal of my ad hoc diplomacy was to assure everyone that we were fine. We were. In fact I felt lucky. I was able to stay in the house, school and community that I knew. Unlike children of divorce, my negotiations didn’t involve anger or resentment or visitation rights. We were all a bunch of wasps, there were no differences in race,faith or culture to navigate. Yes, there was a lot of loss accompanied by inertia and depression, but there was sympathy, and caring too. Many tried in their own way to help. A few distanced themselves, rather than get involved.

I had a vivid imagination about what could go wrong next. I still do. Some days were better than others. I guess I realized I was succeeding in convincing everyone that we were actually OK when I went to visit my maternal grandfather on what would be his deathbed. I missed a day of school to visit him. He thanked me for coming and held my hand. He looked me in eye and said “ You know, I worry about all those other people, but I always know that I don’t have to worry about you. “ I told him he was right about that. Looking back, I can see that blending families was a challenge, but it was also the only life I knew. I was young enough to go with the flow-so I could cope better than some of the grownups. Maybe I am kidding myself, but really, it was fine, and I didn’t have any other choice.

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