Life, Lessons & Love

My Second Family

December 26, 2020

“And it makes me believe some strangers are meant to be” — Angels (Above Me), Say Lou Lou

“History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” – Mark Twain

The more I reflect on that idea, the more I see that pattern in my own life.

Jen

In February 2013, Joanne and I had been talking with Jen about the challenges she faced raising three small children while going through divorce, leaving our neighborhood and continuing her career.

We had five bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, and three children in varying states of departure from the nest. We had room for Jen, Abi, Gabe and Irie.

The kids would be close to school. Jen would be close to work. Simple.

In April, Jen finally relented. She had had doubts. Joanne and I didn’t.

Headed to South Africa for two weeks to visit Ally as she studied abroad, we encouraged Jen to take advantage of our empty home. We flew away from Virginia on April 15th. Jen and the kids moved in.

When we returned, we encouraged her to stay.

Abi, Gabe and Irie

For 20 glorious months, I had the best of both worlds: Three adorable children to love, and no responsibility. It was simultaneously like being an uncle and a grandpa, but different, and in many ways, more.

Joanne and I loved Jen as our own. And I loved Abi, Gabe and Irie as my own.

English lacks the words to describe non-traditional family relationships. We weren’t married. Jen was not a “sister-wife” popularized on the reality TV series of the time. But we were a family. My second family.