My Mom is getting remarried at 79 and I am having a worse time of it than I expected. My Dad died 18 years ago, so it’s legal and morally acceptable everywhere for her to remarry. I am happy her too, as he seems like a pleasant person with whom she can spend her retirement with. They met in a walking group during the pandemic, so she doesn’t need to be lonely and now has someone to appreciate her cooking on a daily basis again. It’s pretty romantic to fall in love at any age. With their short engagement though, I find myself under a wave of sadness that has descended upon me like a fog that I can not clear.

It’s hard to make sense of it. At forty-five, I am a grownup with a family of my own with a husband and kids. I should be fine. Since moving back to Oregon, I see my mom every other month and we talk on the phone most weeks. I text pictures of the kids to her and my mother-in-law at least twice a week. It’s dropped off some, now that she’s been occupied elsewhere, but that hasn’t bothered me as I’ve been super busy too.

The pending nuptials are reminding me of my father who died when he was in his fifties and I was in my twenties. His untimely death meant he missed my wedding and the birth of our daughters. I wish he could have met my husband—they would have had so much to talk about.

While my father’s death wasn’t by choice, it still feels like abandonment. He is just is not here anymore, especially when I really needed him to be—for my mom and brothers too. Don’t underestimate the value of an established older male throughout your young, and even middle, adult life.

Not to say that my mom’s fiancé hasn’t made an effort. When my he and my mom visited around Valentine’s Day, he brought stuffed teddy bears for all the cousins. When we visited on Easter, he played toss with the girls and they even tried out the title of “grandpa.”

As for offspring, this new guy has plenty of his own. He had two daughters with his first wife and a step-daughter from his second. He’s got a bunch of grandchildren and even a half-dozen great-grandchildren. My brothers and I and our kids are redundant.

What I am missing and will never have replaced is my Dad who was also my friend and sounding board. He was my backup emergency contact, an endless source of obscure facts and helpful observations—he was my safe place. My mother’s remarriage is her moving on, but for me there is always going to be an empty space.