Selected Articles
My Other Mother
By Sherry Boardman*
STEPFAMILIES Quarterly, Fall 1990
I had a relationship with my mother that every daughter must wish for sometime in her life. It was fun, serious, happy, sad, and sisterly. I always shared my troubles and sorrows with my mother, and she dutifully had an answer and reason for every lick I suffered. My joys were relished more by her than me. We had tragedies that every family suffers, and we sustained them all. Our whole family was built on faith and love, and these two ingredients made everything come out right. In my early twenties, my mother suffered a stroke, and within a matter of days, she died. I tried not to be bitter, but there is always a little bitterness when someone dear is taken from you. My stepfather, whom we adored, was torn with grief and gradually faded from us. My sister soon married and, with her new husband and life, moved to another location. Already striking out in one marriage and with children to care for, I began searching for a place to call home.
My natural father and I had not been very close during my growing up years as he and my mother were divorced when I was very young. He remarried several years later, and we saw him and his wife from time to time. Occasionally, we would stay a few days at their house and go with them on short trips. But it was more of a thing to go and do, rather than someone to visit and feel related to.
I began to travel from town to town seeking a place to settle down, losing touch with my dad. After some years, I began to write again and finally moved close enough to make a trip to see them now and then. It was during these brief visits that I found a new friend - my stepmother. Most everyone looks at a stepmother as just that. She is someone who marries your father when he and your mother can't make it. She is a lady who comes and calmly waits during one of those long strenuous days when daddy visits the kids. She makes small talk about how you've grown and if school is going well.
My sister and I always respected her and never had ill feelings toward her. I suppose one would say she stayed in her place. We enjoyed being around her as she was very pleasant. But, I never really considered her as a part of my life until I renewed my acquaintance. I knew my stepmother came from a large family and that they suffered during the depression as did many others. In recent years, she lost several members of her family, including her mother and father. I learned that her marriage to my dad suffered several black clouds. My dad's business had gone virtually bankrupt, so, she held down a job and took in sewing to help with expenses. While in the midst of this, she became a mother. A baby had come late in their lives. And I know how frustrating children can be for a younger mother, without additional problems. But she worked to keep everything together and refused to give in when others would have called it quits.
However, all of this was unknown to me at the time, and I suppose I didn't expect her to identify with my problems since I believed she had relatively few. Then I found that she was a real person who had suffered just as I had. After several visits, I felt my heart strings tugging more and more to be closer. My children enjoyed seeing their newfound "grandmother" and grandfather. Their daughter, the same age as my oldest, made the trips even more eventful and fun for them. And they began to look forward to the next visit more than I. But it was quite a long trip to make. Although she didn't realize it, the definite and final decision to move was ultimately made by my stepmother after I had let it "slip" that I would like to move closer. Even though I enjoyed being around them, I really didn't know how she felt, and I certainly didn't want to become a nuisance.
On arriving one weekend for a visit, she had arranged a job interview for me. Then, with my dad, she looked several weeks for a place for us to live. She located a babysitter for my youngest and made inquiries at the school for the transfer of my oldest. I was soon notified that I had been appointed to the position, and I gladly gave notice to terminate where I was working. When we moved, everything was ready for us, including a lovely place in which to live, selected by my new family.
My stepmother and I have enjoyed a beautiful friendship since being closer. We can spend hours just sitting and talking about nothing special. We enjoy shopping, cooking, sewing, and even washing dishes together.
Since my dad is not an outdoor sportsman, we have spent many a weekend working in the yard. Many times I have shared my problems with her. Whether about my job, children, or just personal matters, there always seems to be a reasonable solution that comes from our little tete a tetes.
I don't want to give the impression that we have total agreement on everything. No two people do, especially women, and, it wouldn't be quite right if we were the exception. But it has lightened my load just to have someone take the time to listen to me instead of me sitting and wrestling with something by myself. She was my strength in the recent loss of my second husband and my sister, whose deaths were only a year apart. My dad also shared my grief, but it seemed that my stepmom and I had more time together.
My children are grown and gone now. At times my home is quiet and lonely. However, I only have to pick up the phone or drive a few blocks to have my spirits revived. Since her recent retirement, there are plans to do even more things together during my free summers. We are presently plotting our second tour abroad to Shakespeare's homeland. I suppose maturity changes people in different ways - some good and some not so good. Now, I realize that it could always have been this way; but, I wasn't ready for her to be a part of my life until a few years ago.
Although no one can ever really take the place of the mother I've lost and the love I had for her, there is a special place in my heart for this woman, and a closeness one rarely understands without experiencing it. She has reached out and enabled me to feel that I have a real family and home. She doesn't treat me as a stepchild, but more like a daughter. My feelings toward her are no longer that she is the "lady" my father married, but the person I regard, and acclaim highly and without reservation, as...my other mother.
* Sherry Boardman has been a stepdaughter for over 40 years.