I am still extremely close to my ex-husband’s sister. Her sons are every bit my nephews. But a few weeks ago when introducing her to another friend, I called her “my ex-sister-in-law.” She was appalled and smacked me in the arm, saying “I NEVER refer to you that way.” She’s right and I promised her it wouldn’t happen again. Over the next few weeks I was with my ex's family often - both of my kids celebrated birthdays, two Jewish Holidays etc. We all celebrated each of these occasions together. We have always gotten along well enough to do so, and we know how much it means to our kids. What I didn’t realize was how much it also meant to me.
I have been in Bat Mitzvah Momzilla mode for months.
Planning, prepping, scheduling, paying, praying, ranting and raving. One
million calendars, spreadsheets, lists, emails, texts and sleepless nights, and
it finally arrived last weekend. In a concerted effort to save cost, we've chosen to take on all set-up, decorating and tear-down for both of our daughter’s Bat Mitzvah parties. And this is great in theory, but requires an army of helpers. In
advance, I had reached out to mostly the same folks who had helped three years
ago for our older daughter. I did this, knowing that the last time I asked, our
divorce was still relatively new and I wasn't sure how his family would feel
about working as a team. This time, I was even more unsure. I hadn’t seen some of them since the last
Bat Mitzvah, three years ago. My ex does not keep in close contact with his family from out of
town, and so now I was asking them for a favor for us both, without much
context. As it was, some of the “exactly who is attending” was up in the air
until the last minute.
But they came. My people. His people. Our kids’ people. They
all showed up. Locally and from across the country. And I don’t just mean they showed up, I mean that they SHOWED UP.
They arrived full of love and excitement. They were happy to be there. They were
eager to shower our family with love, support, congratulations and help. They
rolled up their sleeves - grabbed my list of instructions, crates of supplies, double
checked that they understood my vision, and got to work. They worked non-stop
until we were done. Our people showed up and made the night possible. At no
time did anyone stop to question who was helping whom. My partners’ daughter worked
with my ex-husband’s girlfriend on the centerpieces. My ex’s cousins worked
with my tallest, “cousin” to hang decorations in a spot only a 6’5” man
could reach. My parents ran out for missing supplies, my brother-in-law worked
with his dad and strung endless word signs. My aunt and uncle wrote signs and filled bowls. Everyone laughed, everyone got
along and everyone did this for our daughter. No one hesitated even once to
question the scene, to remark how it might be odd in other families.
As the party swung into high gear, the video of our daughter
growing up played on the screens. I had worked hard to make sure that everyone in the family was
included at least once. This was made harder by the fact that I did not have
many pictures of my kids with my ex or his family post-divorce. But I had asked
them for some and they sent them – no hesitation. That night we danced and
talked and ate and mingled and celebrated for hours and I swear no outsider
would have ever known where my family began and his ended. Everyone was happy. Our
daughter most of all. To my kids, this is normal, this is how we "family."
To say that I am grateful for the weekend, the family, the friends
and the mitzvah would be a huge understatement. In complete transparency though,
I am also proud. We made promises to ourselves and each other about how we
would “family” in the wake of divorce, and for the most part we have held fast
to those promises. In similar fashion to “the days are long, but
the years are short,” in divorce - the tough times are tough, but the family we
maintain is even sweeter. Its hard work, and we might fail more than we
succeed. But we SHOW UP when it matters. And for our daughters - that is all
that matters.
A wise friend once told me that divorce is hard as hell in
the beginning, horrendous in the middle, and spectacular in the end. I realize
now, that spectacular has many parts and this family isn’t an “ex” anything, we are ALL simply family. Thank you to everyone who showed up and reminded me.
