WF and Thing 1 get back from their trip this weekend. That means that my two-week block with Thing 2 is coming to an end. We’re having a really fantastic time but I have to confess that I’m looking forward to WF having the girls for a little while so that I can get caught up a bit at work. I’ve fallen into this routine of working late when WF has the girls and not doing that for two weeks has taken a toll on my to do list.
Which brings me to today’s topic.
WF won’t always be around to take the girls half the time. I guess in some ways I’ve known that for a while. Five years sounds about right – that’s how long it’s been since he was diagnosed and the prognosis then was 5-8 years. It wasn’t exactly higher math to figure out that his cancer meant that the girls most likely wouldn’t have him there for their high school graduation. Still, four years of the subject being off limits gave me ample opportunity to build up a buffer of denial. Soft, fluffy, comfie denial. I can see why it’s so popular.
Three months ago WF told me that his cancer was back – had been back for 18 months in fact – and was gaining momentum. It had found a way around every treatment they’d thrown at it so far and they were down to the last two options. Not only was the prognosis bad enough that he needed to tell the girls, he needed to tell me. I’m not sure which he thought was worse.
Needless to say, the girls are processing each in their own way. I can see if even when he can’t – even when they can’t. Thing 1 throws me subtle messages here and there that let me know she’s got some part of her psyche devoted to the concept. Thing 2 is doing her best to take over the nest of denial that I build. She likes it there but comes screaming out of it once in a while and hits me from left field with something so seemingly innocent that I could almost forget to ask her why she was thinking about that. Almost.
All of this is very predictable. And y’all know how much I like to be predictable. But what is the expected way to react? In the end it doesn’t matter because I’m just a bundle of mixed emotions anyway – all over the map in a million places at once. It’s not that I don’t know how to feel, it’s that I don’t know how not to feel. I’m not sure what part of this I’m supposed to filter out.
I won’t have to coparent with him. That’s a blessing, right? I mean, coparenting is so hard that it keeps lawyers, counselors and mediators in business by the score. And I’m going to be one of the “lucky” moms who won’t ever have to worry about Dad saying yes behind my back. Or blasting me for saying yes. Or, or, or. At least that’s what I heard this week from someone who was speaking without thinking. It’s a “Blessing” to be the only living parent. And I’ll be blessed to not have to coparent with WF.
But that also means that I won’t have him to co-parent with. Not only will I have to figure everything out by myself but I’ll be figuring it out for a couple of girls in pain. Pain from losing their father and reacting to that in ways that will make them different from the girls that I parent now. They will, at whatever tender age this happens, have lived through something that many of my peers have not. And I’ll be there to watch them suffer.
I’ll have to parent differently just by virtue of solo parenting. Years of dealing with WF has allowed us to settle into our respective roles. We have a “dance” if you will. He heads toward one extreme, I pull back toward the other. We each fight for our side and then compromise in the middle. It works. But it won’t work with just me pulling to one extreme. I’m going to have to find middle on my own, without WF pulling me in that direction. And I’ll have to find that middle through a cloud of any guilt that I have. Guilt I will forever carry for the ill thoughts I had toward him during all the darkest days of the divorce. Guilt for any time that I failed to protect my children from pain. Guilt for any benefit I gain by WF not being there for them.
And just to round out the mix of emotion, let me really cloud things. I have known WF for 21 years now. In that time I have been his student, colleague, girlfriend, wife, enemy combatant and coparent. Throughout most of that time I have been his friend. I don’t hate him (see: student, enemy combatant) nor do I love him (see: girlfriend, wife). In many ways, what is in my children’s best interest is also what is in his. And of course, the fundamental truth of coparenting is that the better we get along the easier it is – our little “dance” from the last paragraph could easily look more like a duel if we didn’t. So the question I find myself wondering about is: If we didn’t have children together, would I miss him?
The answer, unlike anything else in this situation, is simple. We have children together, so the point is moot. I will miss him because we have children together. The children are the only Blessings in this situation. Anyone who says otherwise needs to take a closer look at my girls and tell me how Blessed they would be to tell the Witchlets that their father is dead.
