A Month After Mom’s Passing, Dad Introduced His New Partner at Christmas — I Was Stunned by Who She Was
Dad brought his mistress home for Christmas and presented her as my “NEW MOM,” just one month following the death of my mother from cancer. Though it broke my heart, it wasn’t the only thing that unsettled me.
As I type, my hands will continue to shake. I have to tell about a Christmas dinner that became a nightmare and demonstrated to me the speed with which a family may disintegrate. Some times you wish you could forget, but they turn out to be the toughest lessons in life, loss, and what it means to move on.
Our burial of Mom was precisely one month ago. She battled cancer three years ago and never stopped being Mom even at the end. I recall her last day very precisely: the beeping devices, the afternoon sunlight pouring through the hospital window, and her startlingly forceful hand squeeze.
She said, “Lily, sweetheart,” hoarse but determinedly. “Promise me something,”
anything, Mom. I was making great effort to stop crying.
“Look after your sisters.” And your father does not perform effectively by himself. Never has occurred. She opened that gentle smile of hers. “But ensure he remembers me,” said.
“How could any one forget you?” I gushed out.
Our last actual conversation was that. She left the next morning, my sisters Sarah and Katie holding one hand and me holding the other.
I moved back home the first week following the funeral. Dad looked lost, ghostly about the home. I would discover him gazing at Mom’s things while standing close to the closet. Or seated in her yard, caressing the meticulously cared for roses.
Katie said, “He’s not eating,” on our daily sister check-in calls. “I carried over lasagna, and it’s still uneatable in the refrigerator.”
“Same with the casserole I produced,” Sarah said. “Should we be troubled?”
We ought to be, I felt. But then things started to shift.
It began modest. Dad cleared Mom’s closet two weeks following the death without alerting any of us. Simply packed everything and deposited it at the neighborhood charity.
“Her favorite sweeter?” Terrified when I learned, I inquired. “Her blue one she always wore for Christmas?”
Suddenly practical, he added, “It’s just taking up space, Lily.” Your mother wouldn’t want us living here.
A few days later he started visiting a gym. Instead of the salon Mom had known for twenty years, he began getting haircuts at some hip venue. He bought fresh clothes and even started humming while washing dishes. Dad, 53, was beginning to move like a young guy 20 years his age.
“He’s handling it differently,” Katie insisted during one of our emergency sessions at my flat. “Everyone grays in their own way.”
I could not still; I was pacing. This is not loss. He seems to be acting as though he recently came out of jail rather than losing his thirty-year marriage.”
Curling up on my couch, Sarah sought calm. “Perhaps he’s trying to be strong for us. You know Mom’s constant concern about his being alone.
“There’s a difference between being strong and whatever this is,” I murmured, peering out my window as evening descended over the city. “Things are not right.”
I had no concept how not right things were going to turn out.
“Girls,” Dad asked us one evening into the living room, his voice strangely enthusiastic. “Family meeting.” I want to tell you something really essential.
He had fully dressed, including a fresh shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes. He even wore cologne. Mom’s photo grinned down from the mantel as we assembled; I think dad’s eyes seemed happy.
“I have met someone special,” he said, almost leaping on his feet. Amanda is her name; I want you all to meet her.
The quiet that followed was absolutely deafening. The face of Katie went white. Sarah started wriggling with her ring.
“Exactly what do you mean you have met someone?” My voice sprang out choked.
The smile of dad never changed. “Lily, I mean I’m not growing any younger. As usual. Amanda brings me delight, and I wish she could join our family.
“Of course part of our family!” Katie’s voice cracked. “Dad, Mom’s been missing three weeks!”
“And just what am I supposed to do?” He drew his arms across. “Sit alone in this empty house Forever?”
” Maybe grieve?” I said, my wrath growing. “Remember your wife?” The mother?”
“I am grieving,” he said sharply. But I am living as well. Girls, your mother wouldn’t want me to be lonely all my life!”
“Don not.” I got on my feet. “Don’t you dare share with us Mom’s preferred outcome? You cannot use her to defend this.”
Dad simply turned aside, frowning, leaving the three of us in a trance.
One week later he dropped the other bomb.
“Christmas dinner,” he declared over the phone. “I’d like Amanda to come along.”
Almost I dropped my coffee mug. You are bringing her to Christmas dinner? Mother’s preferred holiday?”
“It’s the perfect time for everyone to meet,” he replied, sounding shockingly sensible. “Amanda looks forward seeing you all. She even volunteered to assist with cooking.
“Help bake?” I tightened my hand on the phone. “In Mom’s cookery? Based on Mom’s recipes?”
Lily—”
“Mom left four weeks ago, dad. Four Weeks.”
Then, “And what should I do?” His voice grew louder. “Call off Christmas?” Sit alone and let my daughters evaluate me?”
Maybe honor Mom’s memory? Think of thirty years of marriage. The woman who spent last Christmas in the hospital nevertheless strives to make it memorable for everyone?”
“I still am your father,” he answered forcefully. And Amanda is scheduled to attend Christmas dinner. That’s last.
” fine.” I hung up then contacted my sisters right away.
Katie said during our emergency video conference, “He’s lost his mind.” “Exactly lost it.”
Sarah seemed as though she would cry. “What are we supposed to do?”
I was starting to generate ideas. horrible, excellent concept.
Christmas Eve showed as frigid and snowbound. Making Mom’s stuffing recipe in her kitchen in the morning occupied me. Every few minutes I caught myself turning to ask her a question; the loss struck new every time I recalled she wasn’t there.
Arriving early to assist, Katie brought Mom’s particular tablecloth—the one with tiny embroidered holly leaves she would spend hours ironing year.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Katie said as we laid the table. ” Kept wondering about Mom, how she would polish the silver until it sparkled.”
“Remember how she would orient everything just right?” Sarah added, showing up with pies. “The centre had to be exactly in the middle.”
“And the pictures,” I said regretfully. “So many photos before anybody could eat.”
Katie giggled but stopped suddenly. “Dad would complain his food was getting cold.” God, I miss you.
The doorbell ran exactly at six. Dad hurried to reply, first looking in the hall mirror.
“Everyone,” his voice boomed proudly, “this is Amanda.”
I stood there shocked. She couldn have been less than 25 years old. Perfect makeup, long blonde hair, costly boots. She exuded the kind of younger sister we would have liked. My father exuded the impression of lotto winner.
” This is your new MOM!” His arm encircling her waist, he said. “I hope you all got her something decent for Christmas!”
Katie knocked down her wine glass. Mom’s white tablecloth’s red spread like a wound, the holly leaves vanishing beneath the stain.
Dinner was quite painful. Amanda persisted in trying to strike up a discussion, her voice tense and high.
“This stuffing is really fantastic,” she remarked. Family recipe?”
Emphasizing every word, “My mother’s recipe” I said. “She started doing it thirty years’ worth of Christmas. Her preferred holiday is this one.
Ah. Amanda pushed food around her plate. “I am really sorry for your loss. George told me—”
“Georges?” I sliced her off with a nasty smile. ” You mean dad?”
Dad opened his mouth to cough. Lily!
“No, I would like to know… exactly when he told you about Mom? Before or after his asking you out?”
“Lily, stop,” Dad said in whispers.
“Did he mention her three years of cancer fighting? That she still underwent chemotherapy this time last year? I stopped not sure whether I could. “That she promised him to keep our family together?”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s words thundered across the table.
Amanda seemed almost to be crying. “I should most likely—”
Dad continued, “No, stay.” “Family finds uncomfortable occasionally. That is expected.
“Family?”. I laughed with bitterness. “Dad, she is rather my age. Family is not what this is. That’s unsettling.
present time! Desperate to lighten the atmosphere, dad declared after dinner. He had always performed Santa, but seeing him do it now seemed inappropriate.
I saw Amanda open presents, a gift card from Sarah and a scarf from Katie. She then reached for my well wrapped box.
She gasped, raising the antique jewelry box and said, “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Mom’s favorite; the one she had kept her wedding ring in. ” thank you, Lily. This is really considering.
“Open it,” I whispered quietly. “There’s something special inside.”
She raised the lid and the room became quiet. Inside was a picture of Mom in her garden last summer, with all three of us girls next to her surrounded by roses. Her final decent day before the hospital. Though we knew what was ahead, her grin still shone brilliantly and with life.
Under it sat my note: “You are not my mother. Nobody will ever be able to substitute her. Don’t forget that.
The hands of Amanda began to shake. ” I… I have to leave.”
“Honey, wait”— She was already sprinting, leaving her coat and muffler behind as Dad lunged for her and disappeared into the wintry evening.
Dad returned indoors alone, his face ashen, snow melting on his shoulders.
“What did you do?” he questioned.
“I grounded her with a reality check,” I said. “Did you truly think you could replace Mom with someone my age and we would just accept it?”
He snarled, “You had no right.” “You’re not letting me live my life!”
“Live the life you choose. Mom passed four weeks without life. Her side of the bed is not even cold!” Years of seeing Mom suffer, weeks of seeing Dad move on, everything spilling out at once—I was shrieking now. ” Did you even love her?”
“Where dare you?” His voice stopped. “30 years of loving your mother was great. I kept an eye on her struggle. I stood there seeing her pass. She’s gone, Lily, though. She left; I am still here. What am I meant to do?”
Not this, I said, tears at last falling. Everything except this.
Standing still, Katie and Sarah’s tears were shadows from the Christmas tree. Outside, Amanda’s footprints were covered by falling snow as she fled the fractured pieces of our family.
Although my dad blamed me for not allowing him to move on, I believe his behavior greatly insulted my late mother. By standing up for her memory and clearly telling Amanda she could never occupy my mother’s position, I really feel I did the right thing.
