Love Letters: Surrogates.

I've lived my life with a long succession of surrogates.  My sister-in-law came into my life when I was three years old and has always been my surrogate sister and a damn fine friend.  I claimed an older couple at church as my "grandparents" since I grew up 500 miles away from my extended family.  I several brothers from other mothers and sisters from other misters. I even have a surrogate dog who comes to visit a couple times a week.

My desire for and inclusion of surrogates in my life probably stems from the aforementioned 500 miles separating me from grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, not to mention being the youngest of two by 13 years.  But never mind the reasons, I have a really awesome hand-picked family of some of the finest people I know.

Well, I have a new surrogate.  Steve's mom, Jeanette, and I have decided to be each others' surrogate mother-in-law/daughter-in-law.  Jeanette was best friends with Sue, my mother-in-law.  The fatal wreck that took Sue happened while she and Jeanette were out farting around one afternoon.  I'd met Jeanette before that day, but keeping in touch with her seemed like the thing to do at the time.  She was dealing with survivor's guilt plus injuries from the accident.  I guess I just wanted her to know that B and I did not hold her responsible (the other driver took responsibility at the scene) or hold any resentment towards her.  She's been sort of...on the periphery of my life ever since. 

Back in October, her father, who was in his 80's, passed away.  She and Steve don't have any family in town, so from the moment Grandpa's health took a turn for the worse, I glued myself to Steve's side, like it or not.  When he passed, I told Steve to get in the car and take me to their house so we could get it ready to receive guests.  We cleaned and cleaned all day.  Steve's best mentally when he's busy.  By the time his folks came home with a bucket of KFC, we had that place fully in order and ready to deal with whatever the next few days threw at them.  And I stuck by Steve's side every day, right up through the funeral, until the pictures, flowers, and mementos were taken from the church and unloaded into the house.  Jeanette thanked me for taking care of Steve and keeping him level and mellow, and for all the help.  Without even thinking, I said "That's what family does."

In the days following the funeral, Jeanette asked Steve if she could trade in her current daughter in law (her other son's now-ex wife) for me.  That I was the kind of woman she wants as a daughter-in-law.  Steve told me about this, and it really made me think.

Here I am, 30 years old, with all my older-wiser female figures hours away.  And I miss my mother-in-law like mad.  We acted more like friends than in-laws.  We had cross words exactly once in the three years B and I were together before she passed away.  She was my homegirl, my co-conspirator, a culinary inspiration, and a Jill-of-all-trades with an amazing wealth of life experience.  There hasn't been a day to go by that I haven't thought about her or wished I could call and ask her advice on so many things.

And here's a woman who I love and respect who has many of the same things to offer who wants someone to have that kind of relationship with.  And me?  Well...I really wanted that, too.  So, the other night, I told her (very awkwardly, of course) via text message that I was adopting her as my mother-in-law.  She was delighted.

Since then, we've chatted via text nearly every day.  We've formed a tradition of a weekly lunch and stitch-n-bitch.  She taught my how to knit (and I'm doing it very, very badly, I'll have you know), and I'm teaching her the basics of crochet this week.  I really enjoy our time together.  She has so many stories and a wicked sense of humor.  I feel like something has really fallen into place for me.

Nobody can or will ever replace the one and only Sue, but I think Sue would be really pleased to see that her daughter-in-law and her best friend have found such an awesome friendship with each other.