Sometimes God blesses you with people during defining periods in your life…moments punctuated by sadness, fear, grief, suffering…but also highlighted by love, growth, progress, insight, and eventual peace. Such was the time in my own childhood when I gained my stepfather, somewhere in the mix of having cancer and my mom suffering two (yes two) severe concussions.
After my mom’s second traumatic brain injury, she had significant worsening of her vertigo, short-term memory loss, and balance issues, and was unable to work for quite some time. That year she was forced to spend a lot of time in bed. Although she was not as readily able to engage in whatever middle school antics might be going on, my stepfather was more than willing to fill in any gaps, supporting me, driving me to lessons, doing the cooking and cleaning and other managerial household tasks that previously fell to the default parent. If I forgot my lunch or my cello, he was the one who drove them to me. A few years later, when the time ultimately came for me to learn to drive, it was he who took on that (surely) terrifying task. When my third cancer surgery solidified my desire to pursue medicine, it was he who found me a physician mentor. And it would be his example of love and partnership that would forge my own understanding of what it means to be a good, loving, supportive, present partner through both good and bad times. My only real complaint about him, well the only complaint substantive enough to stick in my mind, were his consecutive dinners of dry, tasteless turkey breast. For the love of God, please use some spices or sauce or something! Ok, I admit I feel a little bad saying that about my late stepfather’s turkey breast. God rest his soul (my stepfather, not the turkey).
More importantly, not only did my stepfather hold our family and household together, he and I became closer as a result. Prior to middle school, I was not accustomed to having a daily father figure in my life, seeing my own father only every other weekend. However, my stepfather stepped in and treated me like his own, forever redefining for me the true meaning of family. It never mattered to him that we did not share DNA, his love was just as real. The outside observer would have never known he was not my biological father. So I have always felt quite fortunate that my stepfather was so amazing. Unfortunately, he set the bar a bit high, as I would learn decades later that many men have no interest in embracing the role of a stepfather. Both at that time, and even more so now, I recognized the blessing he was in my life.
Although he gained his wings in 2005, a few months before I graduated medical school, he lives on in my heart. Happy 75th birthday to my stepfather in Heaven. You truly were a one of a kind blessing!
The Least Interesting Thing 