My step-mom

When I say my step-mom died, the first question I get is, "Were you close?" I am soooo very tired of that question. No, we could have been much closer. No, I didn't see her as often as I should have. Yes, I loved her, and I believe she loved me. Yes, I knew her a long time, longer than my own daughter. Yes, she and my dad have been together a long time. To those who have asked or thought those questions, I say let me grieve for one of the best people I have every known without judgment, without questioning its validity because I call her my step-mom. I would have called her mom, but I have a mom, she had her daughters, and calling her Morma (for mother Norma) seemed silly. She is Norma, my step-mom, and I did not love her any less because we weren't blood relatives.

At her service, I spoke to her character, her love of family and life, and how she wanted to take care of those she loves, even to her detriment at times. I told a story about visiting one day when, despite being dependent on a walker, she got up and started making her way to the kitchen asking what she could get me. I asked why, despite how hard it was for her to get around, she would keep doing that since I was able bodied and could certainly get my own soda or wine. She related to me how she loved taking care of "hers," her family, her friends, and how much pleasure she actually got out of doing things for them like cooking and playing hostess, even then when it was hard for her to get around. She explained that it was, in part, how she was raised, to take care of her family, but also insisted it was something she did out of love. Just a small way to show the people she cared about just how much she did care.

I also referred to how long my parents had been married, about 15 years total, but 6 of which were "legal." While they didn't get married until 2002, Norma and my dad lived together for several years before that, probably since 1992 or 1993. It seemed to me, they were always married in their hearts. I didn't talk about the "time before," when they dated when I was just a kid, and my dad was dating my mom too. Somehow, I just didn't think I could do the story justice on the fly. But here goes: about 30 years ago, my dad (who is officially my step-dad, but given that he raised me and has always been there as my dad I actually refer to him as my "real dad" and call what would to most be my real dad my biological dad) was dating both my mom (my real, biological mom) and my to-be-in-the-future-step-mom at the same time. I have no doubt dad and Norma loved each other then, but for whatever reasons, my dad married my mom instead. And my life became what it is. I've talked to my dad, and before her death, to my step-mom about how I wished, despite how it would have changed my life, they had gotten married then and therefore had 30 years together, rather than the 15 years they did have, the last 4 or 5 of which were fraught with medical problems on both their parts. They both gave me the same answer in different forms: They were together when they were supposed to be, this is how their lives were meant to play out.

I can't help thinking that Norma wasn't supposed to die of leukemia, not in 12 short days from the first hint of a diagnosis to the moment she died, or that my dad wasn't supposed to live without her. I'm working on that, getting past what I see as a great planetary unfairness. In all truth, given how hard it has been for my dad since her death, the endless paperwork, the grief, the shock, maybe it was meant for her to die first to spare her from that, from having to live alone. Given her medical problems, I'm not sure she would have been able to stay by herself, and without my dad, I don't know if she would have been able to sort everything out. Don't get me wrong, she has two wonderful daughters, and two stepdaughters that would have done anything to help her, but I can't see her wanting to live with any of us, or have us trespass on her home full-time, nor can I envision her wanting to live in a retirement home.

On the other hand, I don't think my dad likes living alone much either. And most days, just checking the mail is a chore. So much of what comes in the mail every day is addressed to her, it's hard for him to look at her name every day without feeling the pain of loss over and over again. My sister calls him daily, coming by if he doesn't answer the phone much to his dismay, and I also call as well as going over a couple of times a week to go through the mail, show him how to use online banking, and to help deal with the paperwork. For their part, my step-sisters call frequently, bring by the grandkids, and were of undefinable help planning her service and being supports while she was dying, and after.

A family is better than it's weaker member, we pull together and do what needs being done. If one of us isn't able, the unit doesn't fall apart, but rather someone else steps in and gets 'er done. I try to attribute that to the greatest lesson Norma could have taught us, but rather I see her greatest legacy as just being herself and loving everyone so unconditionally that it has taught us to do the same. Again, at her service, I talked about her love of family and friends, and mentioned that I had never heard her say a negative thing about anyone. Even now, six weeks after her death, I have yet to hear anything negative about her. Not that I'm looking mind you, but rather I take comfort that so many loved her so much.

If you also knew Norma, and would like to share your thoughts and feelings, please leave your message here for the family to read. Next year, on the anniversary of her death, all the messages left will be printed into a memorial book for my dad.

Norma, we love and miss you every day. I hope you are at peace and no longer in pain. Knowing you are already there, wherever that may be, brings me comfort and gives me another loved one to be grateful to see in the hereafter. Thank you for taking such good care of us in this life, and watching over us from the next one.