Family Again

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2013 ~ About two years after my father died, my mother started dating my second Dad (never did like the ring of “step”—Cinderella put the curse of horror on that word).

The notion of our family returning to wholeness by having a father back in the home delighted me. I could quit answering the question of my father’s whereabouts; I could quit seeing the pained looks on people’s faces when I told them he had died; I’d still have a future as a father’s daughter.

After a year of dating, my dad-to-be, my mother and the four of us kids sat in the back seat of a Ford Country Squire station wagon with the faux wooden sides waiting at the railroad tracks for the train to pass. My nine year old brother, counted the train cars, my seven year old sister and I sang Herman’s Hermits’ song “Mrs. Brown You’ve got a Lovely Daughter” at the tops of our lungs to drown out my three year old sister’s repetitious “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

Suddenly, my dad-to-be turned to us in the back seat and said, “I’d like everyone’s attention.”

He wasn’t yelling or anything, but we were totally unaccustomed to him making any group statements. My mother even looked surprised. He turned to my mother, held up a small box, opened it and held out a ring toward all of us.

“Barbara, I want to know if you and the kids will have me?”

My mother looked at us in the back seat and said, “Well? Vince wants to marry us. What do you say?”

We’d just received the biggest gift ever. We all started screaming “yes” and watched my dad-to-be kiss my mother. “Gross!” we yelled and we were happy.

Gratitude for my second Dad

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