With Mother’s Day 2014 closing in on us – and to be honest once again I am doing my best to avoid the day as much as possible with the girls – I’ve heard a couple of times this week from people, “I knew your wife.” It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that.
What has been different this time, it’s from people I am just meeting for the first time. It’s not to say Risa didn’t have a social life and I was always there. It’s more the timing of life.
First coming during the week leading up to Mother’s Day is coincidental if you believe in that, and its a little symbolic if you believe in that.
But also, when we move here our kids were very young. By and large we met the families of the kids our kids played with – and many of the parents I am still friendly with (in the acquaintance way) even though my kids are no longer friendly.
It’s a fringe use case to bump into parents of kids my kids interact with today who I have not met who knew Risa. A moment where I have to stop and think.
It takes me several tries to get comfortable with moments like that. It took me more than a year to be able to answer in social settings that I was single without going into more detail than necessary.
Much like Mother’s Day – I try to avoid moments like the ones I encountered this week when people came to me and said, “I knew your wife.”
I know the nice woman in Starbucks did not mean any malice when she walked up on me after over-hearing a conversation I had with a friend to tell me she knew my kids and knew my wife. The same for one of the softball coaches who was just trying to connect the dots for me. And to be honest, I appreciate it…I just don’t know what to say or how to react.
So, here we are closing in on Mother’s Day. My mom (who no doubt will read this) is doing OK and I wish I could be more effusive about celebrating her day. But maybe I’m just not there yet in my life, or maybe I don’t want to find out where my kids are in their acceptance of things. I’m not sure…
But for those who knew my wife, thank you for being a part of our lives.