The beauty of polyamory came out for us over the past week and a half.
Last Tuesday, we were celebrating my middle son’s birthday early because he wanted to get a whole day of reveling in before school started. A day of shopping. In the evening, pizza and ice cream at the boyfriend’s house.
The day before my husband learned that his mother had days-to-weeks to live.
The pizza was in the oven. We were expecting my husband, but he phoned me instead.
“The hospital called. Mom’s breathing changed and they said we should come say our goodbyes.”
My middle son didn’t feel like he could handle that so, he stayed with the boyfriend while I loaded my other two children into my car and left with my husband.
Yesterday was the viewing. That was something my youngest son didn’t want to partake in. The boyfriend left work early to take the youngest home with him, make him dinner, and entertain him while the rest of us went to the hard night we felt we could handle.
Last Friday night, after his mother had died, a bond of my husband’s took him to the ocean. I came to snag my daughter after work, to spend the evening with the kids and my boyfriend. She and my husband were just departing. She gave me a hug and asked if there was anything she could do for me too.
“You’re doing it now. Thank you for giving him a break from all of this.”
Bonds of mine and his checked in and showed they cared — about all of us — in various ways. Thank you to each of you who did.
My mother-in-law and I have been estranged for a couple of years because she really didn’t like that we’d opened our marriage and that I have a boyfriend. I must be hurting her son so, even though we made this decision together, I was the bad actor.
But there I was, at her death bed, telling her I loved her and to be at peace, because we were at peace. And there she was hugging me in response, at the end of her life when her voice had failed her.
It was beautifully healing for all involved, but …