A few weeks ago, as I was driving down IH-35, I was thinking about a conversation I had with a friend. We were lamenting the challenges of motherhood, workhood, familyhood and the interplays of each aforementioned arena of life. It was a pitifully cathartic, and much needed, lunch date. As she divulged, I listened and empathized. Then, the conversation became foreign. She spoke of the explicit directions she needed to convey to her husband to interact with the family. It became apparent to me that my feelings could only be sympathic toward my friend; I did not understand her relationship with her partner.
While driving, in that moment, I understood why I am still a glass-full/tenacious/content/blessed being. I give much thought to being a person without a mother. At times, it consumes 100% of me. This fact in my life gnaws and, at times, devours every ounce of inner warmth, self-comfort I have. Somehow, I always find a way back to me. Since the age of 26, I have been denied a mother. Notwithstanding, the world has given me a partner whose love for me can fill 100 strong relationships. I am positive of it. He gives me light when I do not deserve it. He comforts gently. He leads unknowingly.
Most importantly, as the mother of dear Bennet and Ruby, he is raising the girls with her spirit and heart in full force. He speaks Vietnamese to the girls each time he has an opportunity to incorporate a single digit number (at times, incorrectly) or food item (cơm, mì, thịt). He plans trips to visit Mom's family in California. When surrounded by my large extended family, I will look over and see him, a head taller than everyone, laughing right along with Uncle's antics. He has kindly badgered the local elementary school to ask about the dual-language Vietnamese program and the possibility of transferring into the school. When Dad had his stroke almost four years ago, Jeremy brought up moving him down to Austin. To be honest, I was overwhelmed with what we needed to do. I remember crying with relief knowing that my husband took the initiative to plan for and care for my father. For the next few months, Jeremy would come home from work, bathe my father, eat a quick dinner, give me a kiss and take turns puting our six-month old to bed. He did what Mom would have done. In this next month, Dad will be moving in with us, and I am grateful for the efforts Jeremy has put in to finding a larger home to accommodate all of our needs.
The smartest words I have spoken in life was to tell Jeremy Palafox, "I like you more than a friend. Don't say anything. Just walk into the library to study." Of course, being the man he is, he listened to my explicit directions. However, before taking a step towards the building, he said, "Thank you."
We were friends. We dated, and on our seven-year anniversary, we married. He labored right alongside me those two phenomenal spring days. He is now the father to my children.
This world gave me a partner who is there when I falter. And, while picking me up, he always finds a way to bring small and big joys. Life is still hard. And, life is so,so good. It's because of him.
