Becoming a daughter

It was a given that Dan and I would take care of his parents when they got older. He was the youngest and his mother’s only biological son. We knew his mom would outlive his dad by quite a few years, and we would be there for her after that. This was the plan before we got married, and I was fine with it. I loved his parents. It was an unspoken oath, but everyone knew about it.

 

Dan’s mom, Pat, lived in a world of boys. She had a husband, five stepsons, and Dan. She was ecstatic to have another girl around the house. Finally she had someone around who could talk about something other than cars and computers. The first Valentine’s Day after Dan and I started dating, Pat got me a stuffed kitten, just because she could. Those stinky boys didn't want stuffed animals anymore.

 

When Dan and I got married, I brought my wedding dress (which was my mother’s) over to Pat’s house to try on. After she oooed and aahed, I said, “Now I just need to find a veil!”

 

“I still have my veil! Let me go get it!” Pat replied, and scurried down the hall to her room. I was worried. What if it was a hideous 1970’s polyester mess? I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. How was I going to get out of this?

 

She came out with the most gorgeous veil I had ever seen. It matched my dress perfectly and was exactly what I had envisioned. This was the start of a beautiful relationship.

 

I asked my dad before I got married, "what do I call them, should I call them mom and dad? That's weird. I have a mom and dad already."

 

"Call them whatever you want dearest.” My dad said. “You’re not going to hurt our feelings if you call them mom and dad, you’re not going to hurt theirs if you don't.”

 

I ended up just calling them by their names and when I introduced them to someone I would say "This is my mother in law Pat: This is my father in law Al." and when they introduced me they would say "This is our daughter in law Jenny" That's what we were. The distinction is there for a reason. Generally, their son Dan was standing right next to me; if they didn't introduce me as their daughter in law it might be awkward when Dan kissed me. Pat loved having a daughter. Well, daughter in law, since I wasn't technically her daughter. And Dan?

 

“His parents raised him right” is the appropriate phrase. Dan was the most amazing person I have ever met. He lived by the motto from The Lorax:

 

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it’s not.”

 

Dan cared more than anybody I knew and he was making the world better a little at a time.  His parents raised him that way, although I think they would say he did it himself.

 

Dan was the love of my life, my soul mate. He always said ‘It wasn’t love at first sight but sometime between the first time I saw her and the very next breath I took that I fell in love.’ We were living happily ever after.

 

He was the most amazing father, our daughter had him wrapped around her little finger since before she was born. I have a video from when she’s about three years old. They are singing an Opera about a princess. In the end she married the prince (daddy) and Dan pronounced them Daddy and India, sealing it with a kiss

 

Then Dan did something none of us ever thought he would do. He broke his oath to take care of his parents when they got old. He died, suddenly and unexpectedly, at 36. He was gone before his parents were even old enough to need taking care of.

 

I couldn’t bear to call them and tell them their youngest child was dead. I made my sister do it. They came over in the middle of the night and hugged me. Then I needed taking care of. Pat took care of me, she took care of me and her seven year old granddaughter.

 

Pat held me up as we walked hand in hand down the aisle behind his casket. Pat made us food every day and made sure we ate it. Pat came over to check on us every day. Pat still loved her granddaughter, even when she was a screaming raging mess. Pat still loved on me when I was so overwhelmed I could barely move. Pat laid down on the floor and cried with me, bad knees and all, because I couldn’t get up.

 

Dan had been dead a little more than a year when I called Pat crying. “My house! They’re selling my house! I have to move out! We have nowhere to go!”

 

Without a beat, she replied, “Move in with us. We will take care of you."

 

I knew she meant it. We piled her living room to the ceiling with boxes. She put new carpet in our bedrooms even though I tried to tell her that wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to be a burden on them or get in their way.  They didn’t see it that way at all. They saw it more like welcoming their daughter (and granddaughter) home for summer vacation.

 

She told me "I want you to rest while you’re here with us, and let us take care of you.”

 

So that’s what I did. I took a nap every single day. I didn't make a single meal, I didn't wash a single dish. I didn't even do my own laundry, Pat wouldn't let me. I rested, I went to therapy, I took our daughter to therapy. I looked for a house to buy. We lived with them for about a year. It was wonderful. I don’t really know why I moved out, except that it was time for me to be a grown up again. Often when I’m overwhelmed, I tell my daughter that I’m going to move back in with Grandma so she can take care of me.

 

Three and a half years after Dan died, Pat and I went out to breakfast. "What would you say if I told you I signed up for online dating?" I asked. She grinned and started to wiggle in her seat. "What would you say if I told you I started seeing somebody?"

 

Her smile got bigger, if that was possible. “You’re not upset that I’m moving on…that I’m betraying Dan?” She took my hand.

 

"Honey, all we want is for you to be happy. Tell me all about him!”

 

It started to get awkward calling her my mother in law. "Oh, and is your husband here?"

 

“No, but this is my boyfriend." It was odd for her too.

 

“This is my daughter in law and her boyfriend,” she’d say. People definitely looked at us funny. By now, though, we had been introducing each other this way for over 15 years, we couldn't just change it.

 

Al held to his promise of getting old and needing help. Pat took care of him, because she takes care of everyone she loves. I was there as much as I could be. I introduced myself to doctors, nurses, and hospice workers as their daughter in law. They all asked where Al’s son, my husband was. Well, he died four years ago now, but I'm still here, I didn't back out of my oath. I'm as good as their daughter, you can talk to me.

 

The day before he died Al spoke to me more clearly than I'd heard him speak in months. “Jennifer, are you going to be there, in the room?" I was a bit surprised.

 

“Do you want me there?" "Yes I do,” he said. He didn't want me there for him. He wanted me there for Pat, so she wouldn't have to do it alone. It took time for him to pass over. Pat stayed next to him and I stayed next to her. We sat with Al. We talked about silly unimportant things. We talked about Dan and we talked about Al.  We just talked, next to Al who was taking his last breaths in this world. I sat on the edge of the bed and held Pat’s leg as she held the love of her life, her soul mate.  Al died, and I held Pat up as we walked hand in hand down the aisle behind his casket.

 

A year after that Pat was tired all the time. I told her it was the grief. It had been a hard year. Coronavirus had shut the entire country down. There were wild fires dangerously close to our houses and we both had to evacuate for 4 days. Everyone was stressed. I went with her to the doctor, just to be sure. "This is my daughter in law, you can tell her everything. No, my son, her husband, died. My husband died too. It's just us now."  Just us, and a little colon cancer hanging out in Pat’s body. We scheduled a surgery.

 

Since we were living in a pandemic, hospitals were extremely strict on visitors. We decided I was going to be the one person allowed in the hospital with her. Who else was it going to be? I had promised to take care of her. That didn't change just because Dan died. We settled into her hospital room. On the wall was a white board with a spot to write the emergency contact’s name and number. I wrote “Jenny—Daughter.” Pat looked at it. "You're my daughter now, huh? Not my daughter in law?” she said with a smile.

 

“Yeah, I'm sick of this bullshit."

I wrote a book about my grief. You can get it  here