Off The Record
Dad Brought A Young Mistress Into Our Home For Christmas, Just One Month After Mom Passed Away, And I Was Shocked To See Her
Dad introduced his mistress as my “NEW MOM” when he brought her home for Christmas, just one month after my mother’s death from cancer. Not only was my heart broken, but I was also shaken by other things.
As I write this, my hands are shaking uncontrollably. I must tell you about a Christmas dinner that became a nightmare and made me realize how easily a family can fall apart. You may wish you could forget certain events, but they ultimately teach you the most difficult lessons about sorrow, life, and moving on.
We buried Mom precisely one month ago today. She battled cancer for three years, yet even in the latter stages, she remained a mom. The beeping devices, the afternoon sunlight coming in through the hospital window, and the way she squeezed my hand with unexpected force are all vivid memories of her last day.
Her voice was scratchy but resolute as she muttered, “Lily, sweetheart.” “Make me a promise?”
“Anything, Mom?” I really tried not to cry.
“Look after your sisters.” Additionally, your father struggles to succeed on his own. Never has. She grinned her gentle smile. “But ensure he doesn’t forget me.”
“How could you be forgotten?” I suffocated.
Our last meaningful talk ended there. The following morning, while I held one hand and my sisters Sarah and Katie the other, she slipped away.
I returned home the first week following the funeral. Dad wandered the house like a ghost, seemingly lost. He would stand close to Mom’s closet and gaze at her clothing. Or lounging in her yard and caressing the roses she had meticulously nurtured.
Katie said on our daily sister check-in calls, “He’s not eating.” “The lasagna I brought over is still in the refrigerator, untouched.”
Sarah said, “It’s the same with the casserole I made.” “Do we need to worry?”
I believed that we ought to be. Then, however, everything was different.
It began modestly. Without notifying any of us, Dad organized Mom’s closet two weeks after the death. Everything was simply packed up and delivered to the nearby charity.
“Her go-to sweater?” I inquired, shocked to learn the answer. “The blue one she wore to Christmas every year?”
Suddenly pragmatic, he added, “Lily, it’s just taking up space.” “Your mother wouldn’t approve of us living here.”
He joined a gym a couple of days later. Instead of going to the salon where Mom had known the owner for twenty years, he began getting haircuts at some hip spot. He even began humming while doing the dishes and bought new clothes. Dad was 53 years old and beginning to behave like a young man of 20.
Katie insisted at one of our emergency sessions at my apartment that “he’s handling it differently.” “Everyone grieves differently.”
I couldn’t sit still, so I was pacing. “This isn’t sorrow. Instead of grieving the loss of his thirty-year marriage, he is behaving as though he has just been released from prison.”
Sarah tried to maintain her composure while cuddled up on my couch. “Perhaps he is attempting to remain resilient for us? Mom was always concerned about him being by himself, you know.”
As night descended over the metropolis outside my window, I remarked, “There’s a difference between being strong and whatever this is.” “There’s a problem.”
I was unaware of how bad things were going to get.
One evening, with a strangely enthusiastic tone, Dad brought us into the living room and said, “Girls.” “Meeting with family. I want to share something significant with you.”
His shoes were polished, his slacks were pressed, and he had a new shirt on. He would even wear cologne. As we gathered, Mom’s photo grinned down from the mantel, and I swore Dad’s eyes were beaming with joy.
He exclaimed, “I’ve met someone special.” “I want everyone to meet Amanda, who goes by that name.”
The ensuing hush was deafening. Katie’s cheeks turned pale. Sarah began to fumble with her ring.
“What specifically do you mean by meeting someone?” My voice sounded choked.
Dad always had a smile on his face. I mean, Lily, I’m not getting any younger. Life continues. I want Amanda to be a member of our family because she brings me joy.
“A member of our family?” Katie’s voice broke. “Mom has been gone for three weeks, Dad!”
“What should I do, then?” His arms were crossed. “Permanently sit by yourself in this deserted house?”
“Maybe you’re grieving?” I proposed, feeling enraged. “Do you recall your wife? Our mommy?”
“I’m in mourning,” he yelled. However, I am also alive. Girls, your mother wouldn’t want me to live a lonely existence!
“Avoid it.” I got to my feet. “You have no right to tell us what Mom would prefer. You cannot use her as an excuse for this.”
With a frown, Dad simply walked away, leaving the three of us stunned.
He dropped the following bomb a week later.
He said over the phone, “Christmas dinner.” “I would like Amanda to accompany us.”
I almost dropped my mug of coffee. “You’re taking her to dinner on Christmas? What is Mom’s favorite holiday?”
He seemed annoyingly rational when he said, “Now is the ideal time for everyone to get together.” “Amanda can’t wait to meet everyone.” She has even offered to assist in the kitchen.
“Aid in the kitchen?” I tightened my hold on the phone. “In the kitchen with Mom? Making use of Mom’s recipes?”
“Lily—”
“Dad, Mom has been gone for four weeks. Four weeks.”
“And what ought I to do?” He raised his voice. “Cancel Christmas? Sit by myself as my daughters criticize me?”
“Perhaps honor Mom’s memory? Do you recall your marriage of thirty years? Is the woman who was hospitalized over the previous Christmas season still attempting to make it memorable for everyone?”
“I’m still your dad,” he remarked sternly. Additionally, Amanda will be attending the Christmas dinner. That’s the end of it.
“All right.” After hanging up, I called my sisters right away.
During our urgent video conference, Katie exclaimed, “He’s gone crazy.” “Totally lost it.”
Sarah appeared to be about to cry. “What are we going to do?”
I was forming an idea. An awfully good concept.
It was snowing and freezing on Christmas Eve. I worked in Mom’s kitchen all morning preparing her stuffing recipe. I found myself going to her every few minutes to ask her a question, and every time I realized she wasn’t there, the pain struck me again.
Mom’s particular tablecloth, the one with the small embroidered holly leaves that Mom would spend hours ironing every year, was brought by Katie, who came early to assist.
As we were setting the table, Katie confessed, “I couldn’t sleep.” “Remembered how Mom used to make us polish the silver until it gleamed.”
“Do you recall how she would arrange everything perfectly?” Sarah came with pies and added. “The focal point needed to be precisely in the center.”
“And the pictures.” I grinned piteously. “So many pictures before anyone had a chance to eat.”
Katie chuckled and then stopped suddenly, saying, “Dad would complain his food was getting cold.” “My goodness, I miss her.”
At precisely six, the doorbell rang. Dad hurried to respond, first glancing at himself in the hallway mirror.
“Hello everyone,” he said proudly, “this is Amanda.”
I was taken aback. She was no older than twenty-five. Expensive boots, long golden hair, and flawless makeup. She might have been our younger sister based on her appearance. My dad appeared to have won the lotto.
“Your new mother is this!” With his arm around her waist, he declared. “I hope everyone got her a nice Christmas present!”
Katie’s wine glass fell. The holly leaves vanished beneath the stain as the scarlet smeared like a wound across Mom’s white tablecloth.
Dinner hurt. Amanda’s voice was anxious and high as she continued to try to strike up a conversation.
She remarked, “This stuffing is fantastic.” “Recipe from family?”
“My mother’s recipe,” I answered, focusing on every syllable. For thirty years, she cooked it for Christmas every year. Her favorite holiday was this one.
“Oh.” Food was pushed around Amanda’s plate. “I sincerely apologize for your loss. George informed me—”
“George?” I interrupted her with a sly smile. “Dad, you mean?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Lily!”
“No, I’d like to know. At what precise moment did he inform you about Mom? Prior to or following his proposal?”
“Stop, Lily,” Dad muttered.
Did he mention that she battled cancer for three years? That at this time last year, she was still receiving chemotherapy? I was unable to stop. “That she forced him to pledge to maintain our family’s unity?”
“Enough!” Across the table, Dad’s voice boomed.
Amanda appeared on the verge of tears. “I should probably—”
“No,” Dad urged, “stay.” Family can be awkward at times. That is typical.
“Relatives?” I gave a sour laugh. “Dad, she’s almost my age. This isn’t family. It’s eerie.”
“Now is the moment!” Desperate to shift the atmosphere, Dad announced after supper. Even though he had always played Santa, it felt odd to watch him now.
I observed Amanda opening presents, including a gift card from Sarah and a scarf from Katie. Then she grabbed my neatly wrapped package.
She exclaimed as she pulled out the antique jewelry box, “Oh, it’s beautiful.” The one in which Mom had kept her wedding ring, and her favorite. I’m grateful, Lily. This is really considerate.
“Open it,” I murmured. “Something unique is within.”
As she raised the lid, silence descended upon the room. There was a picture of Mom in her garden from the previous summer, with the three of us daughters by her side and her roses. It was her final good day before going to the hospital. Even though we knew what was going to happen, her smile remained lively and beautiful.
My note, “You are not my mother,” was underneath it. She will never be replaced. Keep it in mind.
Amanda’s hands began to shake. “I… I must leave.”
“Wait, honey—” She was already going when Dad reached for her, racing into the snowy night while leaving her coat and muffler behind.
Dad returned inside by himself, his face pale and the snow melting on his shoulders.
He demanded to know what you had done.
I maintained my position, saying, “I gave her a reality check.” “Did you really think we’d just accept it if you replaced Mom with someone my age?”
“You were not entitled,” he snarled. “You’re preventing me from living my life!”
“Go about your life? It’s been four weeks since Mom passed away!” It’s not even cold on her side of the bed! Years of seeing Mom suffer and weeks of seeing Dad move on were all coming out at once as I was shouting. “Did you love her at all?”
“You dare?” His voice cracked. “I spent thirty years loving your mother. I saw her battle. I saw her pass away. But Lily, she’s gone. I’m still here, but she’s gone. How should I proceed?”
I cried at last and muttered, “Not this.” “Anything but this.”
Sarah and Katie stood motionless, their tears shadowed by the lights of the Christmas trees. The snow outside kept falling, hiding Amanda’s footprints from when she fled the shattered remains of our family.
I believe my dad’s behaviors were extremely disrespectful to my late mother, but he blamed me for not allowing him to move on. By protecting her memory and making it very evident to Amanda that she would never be able to replace my mother, I am convinced that I made the correct decision.
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