My parents divorced when I was twelve. That was more than thirty years ago. It wasn’t amicable, and there were some problems. But they resolved them a long time ago, and both remarried. My father’s second wife left him, and he never felt the need to marry again. My mom and my stepfather, Fred, have been married for thirty years now. I consider my stepfather my “dad”.
A few years ago, my father (Bill) moved in with us. By and large, it’s been a wonderfully positive experience. Recently, my other parents moved to the area. That was initially a little awkward. Not because they don’t like each other. Precisely the opposite. Fred and Bill are best friends. How’s that for a little “different”?
This past weekend, my baby sister’s husband left for Iraq for eighteen months. This is the baby sister who is my stepfather’s daughter, Stefanie. My father came to the going-away party. Stefanie’s girls call him Grandpa Bill. They’re too young to understand the relationships and to them he’s a Grandpa.
Many of the men who serve under Brandon were there, and some of them were having difficulty figuring out who Bill was. Fred, always the one with the sharp wit, asked Bill to come over and he introduced them. “This is my husband-in-law, Bill.” It was an excellent explanation! No one needed to feel awkward, and we all had a good laugh about it. He will forevermore be known at family gatherings by this term. I think it’s wonderful! It acknowledges that he’s part of the family, it doesn’t marginalize him, and it shows Fred’s fondness for him.
Divorce is a terrible thing. It’s the end that never does. Though I’ve never wished my father and mother were back together, it’s a happy thing that we can be one big, happy, strange, and wonderful family.