A Treasured Bond With My Stepparents
Since the passing of both my parents, I've been happy to show up for them because they always showed up for me
People tell me how nice I am to visit my 89-year-old stepmother and 91-year-old stepfather. I just show up for them the way they showed up for me growing up. Our relationship has evolved from talking about the weather to discussing the complexities of life.

Since the passing of both of my parents, I have found solace in my bond with both of my stepparents. While generationally we are vastly different in our views, I treasure each story they share of early experiences and relationships. The only thing that has changed is our expansive love and respect for one another.
While generationally we are vastly different in our views, I treasure each story they share of early experiences and relationships.
I met my stepmother at five years old when I was living in New York City with my mother. She worked as a buyer for Jordan Marsh and met my father at his women's sportswear business on Broadway. I remember her warm, sweet smile and how comforted I felt when she took me to the circus for a one-on-one date, held my hand or rubbed my back.
When my mother told me I should move in with my father at 16 years old, this was one of the best decisions of my life. I had not spent much time with my father and stepmother over the years, but our occasional weekend visits were a glimpse of what life would be like.
Once I moved in, there were many new experiences for me. I felt loved, cared for, asked how my day was, if I was hungry, and what I planned to do when I bombed another test. I was so shy and timid when I first moved in, I would ask permission if I could get food out of the refrigerator.
Life Skills From My Stepmother
Similar to my father, my stepmother had a strong work ethic and valued the same behavior in others. On the weekends, I had to be up by 8 a.m. mowing the lawn before breakfast. She taught me how to cook and Dad taught me how to drive.
The life skills she instilled in me have stayed with me to this day. She also made sure I had a summer job at 16 and gave me no say about what it was! Three years working at a dry cleaners from 8-6 p.m. six days a week would never have been my first choice, but again, I developed another layer of work ethic.
Life was stressful financially and her relationship with my father was not a cake walk. Years later, she apologized for how she treated me and even admitted she was not always the nicest. I managed to tune out all of the negativity through music and having a busy life as a teenager. I had an incredible life living with them before I left for college. They were supportive and gave me opportunities to gain experience and be independent, which was a great foundation for college and life.
As the years passed, I spent less time with them in Connecticut. My conversations with my stepmother were cordial but really nothing more than talking about the weather before she would hand the phone over to my father. I loved being on my own and I visited every few months or so until I moved to California and focused on my new life and family.
My father's passing caused a shift in my relationship with my stepmother. I became her emotional support and confidante.
For a long time, I could see my father's health declining. He battled heart disease and then in 2015, called to tell me he had Stage 4 colon cancer. Within minutes of hearing this devastating news, my phone rang and there was my stepfather, whom I had not spoken to in over ten years. The timing of his phone call was ironic because when I lost my father four months later, he helped ease my pain and we picked up where we left off.
A Relationship Shift
My father's passing caused a shift in my relationship with my stepmother. I became her emotional support and confidante. The pain my stepmother felt after losing my father four months after his diagnosis was staggering. She was in shock and devastated. Understandably so since she had been with my father for over 40 years.
All I could do was call every day, because we lived on different coasts. I often called two to three times a day just to let her vent and lift her spirits if that was even possible. I just needed her to know that she was not alone, and I was not going to abandon her.
On one of my first visits with her, she shared a beautiful letter she wrote to my father in 1971 when she was in China for work. She was scared to marry a man with two children and a complicated back story, but when he professed his love by phone and proposed, she knew she would say yes. I felt a different closeness to her during this trip and began to see her open up more.
I decided to look after her as best I could and be there for her through immense grief. I would want someone to do the same for me.
For the past nine years, our relationship has changed in ways I never thought possible. She writes me cards and calls to tell me how much she appreciates and loves me. My father was her best friend, confidante and the biggest love she had ever known. I decided to look after her as best I could and be there for her through immense grief. I would want someone to do the same for me.
As she approaches 90, I am thankful she has opened up about her own story, family history and life as a young woman finding her way in the world. When I was packing up her belongings to help move her closer to her granddaughter, I found a treasure trove of items that made for great conversations – from her tap and ballet shoes to pictures in theatrical performances. She lights up sharing happy memories and seeing nostalgia of her youth.
I was also able to ask candid questions that I never thought possible, but she was more than happy to open up. I have learned that keeping your past bottled up can be detrimental emotionally, and since we have spent more time alone than ever imaginable, she has been able to unpack her past and see things in a different light. As the recipient of these stories, I have greater compassion and empathy for a woman who I really never knew up until now.
These days, I focus on good memories and tell her how much I appreciate the love and care she showed me when I moved in. I remind her of the late nights we spent together when Dad went to bed. She taught me how to play card games like Spit and introduced me to two of her favorite foods –Texas wieners and peanut butter sundaes around 11:30 p.m. We would laugh until we cried, and my stomach would hurt from laughing so hard.
My Relationship With My Stepfather
Over the past few years, I have loved it when she asks how my stepfather is. Ironically, they both ask about one another. I often think how wonderful it would have been if they had met. I know they would certainly have hit it off and had great laughs.
In a recent conversation with my stepfather, he shared how he met my mother and details of their days and nights in New York City. He seemed blinded by his love for my mother to the detriment of his own relationships.
I appreciated how candid he was about my mother's mental health and addictions. I loved that he still had her pictures on his phone.
When I was younger, we spent the weekdays together commuting back and forth to New York City when we moved to Stamford, Connecticut. These were good memories, even though I had to be up at 5 a.m. and on a ridiculously early train to the city. He would often sing along to Johnny Mathis as we made our way through the dark streets towards the train station. He was kind and patient, often to a fault, but the past nine years have been therapeutic and healing for me. He filled in the gaps of my childhood and answered tough questions about my late mother.
As I saw my stepfather's health decline on a visit in August, I was racing against time to ask anything else I would regret not knowing. We spoke at length about his life as an Army Medic, his time as a Syracuse University student in the "chugalug beer club," how he became a dentist and landed on an episode of "Sesame Street," and life with my mother in New York City. I appreciated how candid he was about my mother's mental health and addictions. I loved that he still had her pictures on his phone and could share fond memories of their time in the British Virgin Islands.
Similar to my stepmother, he too shared personal stories and reflections of his past. He admitted there were choices he made which were certainly not good ones, but he wrapped up 91 years of living with no regrets. He was loved by his family, friends and strangers he encountered and especially those who cared for him. I will forever be thankful for his caretakers who picked up my FaceTime calls on September 9th so I could tell him how much I loved him one last time and thank him for the gift of being his daughter.
If there is anything I have learned from losing both of my parents and rekindling my relationships with my stepparents, it is this: see your stepparents for who they are and forgive them for the less than stellar job they did at one point or another. There is no manual for parenting. They might have had a challenging time stepping in the shoes of being a stepparent or a messy backstory riddled with moments you might never know.
When people tell me how nice I have been to keep calling and visiting my stepparents, I see my actions as a way to not only show up for them, but I reap the rewards as well. I have felt less alone in the past nine years and realize that there is no greater gift you can give someone than human connection and your time. Just showing up and loving unconditionally can be life changing and all someone ever needs.

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