Holy Shit, My Parents Got Married

I had a pretty major shock this evening. My stepmother called me and broke the news to me that, back in June, she and my father got married. (Yeah, the father who had a stroke in April.) They didn't tell anyone at all, because they wanted to wait until he could talk properly about it, but since his speech still isn't back to normal they decided it was time to tell me and my sisters, and then everyone else.

I'm not honestly sure how I feel about this. I made a big production of it on the phone, telling her how happy I was for the two of them, and what wonderful news it was. I suppose it is wonderful news. But I'm in shock. I don't deal with surprises well at the best of times - even nice surprises; I'm the kind of person who's likely to walk out of a surprise party rather than laugh and enjoy it - and it's taking quite a while to assimilate.

I do love my stepmother. I wasn't too keen on the last one, but this one is pretty awesome. And I can totally understand why they married. Nearly dying changes a person, and they both nearly died this year: my Dad from the stroke, and my stepmother from a bout of pneumonia in Feb-March that was misdiagnosed twice. It's totally understandable that the shock to both of them would make them realise that they wanted to be married for however much time they have left.

In addition, I imagine that my Dad was worried that he was going to die, and knew that common-law marriages are murder to prove in court. In the event that he died before he and my stepmother married, it's likely that a third of his estate would come to me, and the other two thirds would go to my younger sisters; however with neither of them being of age to inherit, their mother - who hates my stepmother - would be in control, and would certainly insist on my stepmother finding a new place to live.

(This in no way negates the idea that they're in love, and WANTED to be married, but my father is nothing if not practical.)

So sure, I can totally understand why they wanted to marry. I can even understand why they wanted to keep it quiet, although I admit that I did have fantasies of a beautiful wedding, with me and all four of my half- and step-sisters getting to wear fantastic gowns and feel like princesses for the day. (And I imagine I'm the only girl in the world who has a good relationship with her father and yet wasn't invited to either of his weddings.) But neither of them is much for ceremony.

I guess I just can't understand why they kept it a secret for this long. Secret from friends, maybe. But from their daughters? The reasoning she gave me, about him wanting to explain in his own words when he could speak again, just felt kind of odd to me.

Ehh. I suppose I feel a little hurt, although I shouldn't. I know that they'd be horrified if they knew that they'd hurt my feelings. And hell, it's not like I share everything with them. There are plenty of things I keep to myself, including one large secret that I really should have shared with them by now, since most of the other people I know are party to it. But part of me's wondering if they would have told me if I'd been a better daughter, if I'd come to visit more often, if I'd generally had a more open relationship with them.

*sighs*

There's nothing to be gained by being sad about it, I guess. In the past I've often envied friends of mine - and boyfriends, come to think of it - for their close relationships with their families. All through college, I had this best friend, Curt, and he had such a huge extended family, dozens and dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins. He had the type of family where he could ring up his uncle and say, "Wha gwan, what's for dinner? Rice and beans? Save me some, I'll be over in half an hour." I, on the other hand, have always had the type of family where if you want to see them, you make an appointment a week in advance. I don't mean to make it sound as though we don't care about each other, because we do. We've just never been close. We're less like parents and children and more like distant relatives who get on OK, but don't really know each other very well.

Which is much my fault as anyone's, I suppose. I could have made a big effort to change things, but I always figured, this is how it's always been, too late to change now. My Dad's stroke brought us together - well, brought me and my stepmother and my two step-sisters together, I'm not so sure about my two younger half-sisters - for the first couple of months. Until I started having panic attacks when I had to spend too much time in London, and then stopped visiting as regularly.

I don't know, I guess it's just guilt rearing its head again. My Dad and stepmother are happy, and they don't seem to feel like I'm a rotten daughter, so there isn't anything that I should be concerned about. I'm glad they're married, I really am. I'm just...wistful, I guess.

Always wanting what I can't have. *shakes head and smiles a little*