Peas of the Pod 7: The Stranger Within

My five year old daughter woke this morning whimpering there was "a ghost in that closet". She pointed to my half-opened closet that once housed X's suits, shirts and ties. Instead of the expected maternal reassurance, I whispered back, "yes, sweetie, there is a ghost there." My own inside joke.

OK, I quickly came to and added, " I'll go get rid of it."

I swear, that is the farthest I go in intentionally "bad mouthing" X in front of my children. I'm actually quite proud of my upstanding behavior and attitude regarding him -- in the presence of his children. They have no idea of my truth. I am surprised, if not enlightened, by my evolved behavior. If given this hypothetical 5 years ago, I would have predicted tantrums, obnoxious outbursts, and sarcastic jibes all over the place.

And I am all too acutely aware that even though X has become a much stronger father figure in the girls' lives since he moved out two years ago, he has faded as a three dimensional person in my life. Sure, he prevails in my daydreams and nightmares – as I still navigate through the terms of our impending divorce. And yes, I update him almost daily on the ear infection or new shoe size. And yes, he still lives six floors above me.


But who and what X is and does during his workday and/or free time is now a total unknown. He is a stranger. A ghost. I would never leave my children with a babysitter I knew so little about. But here, weekend after every other weekend, Wednesday night after Wednesday I hand my two jewels over to a complete stranger. In fact, I know nothing about the man I shared a bed with for five years. In his explanation of his infidelity he said that he had "contorted himself" to fit into our marriage – that he was not being who he really is. Now, I'm not sure he knows who he really is as he continues to dabble with married women and such. But certainly, then, I know less than nothing about the father of my children. Who they spend weekends with! Does he know what to say when they wake in the middle of the night with a nightmare? Can he comfort a wounded feeling? the hurt knee? Can he convince them to eat their greens? Wash behind ears? Slather SPF 40 over their delicate skin? Put them to bed on time? Will he buckle their car seats securely? And soberly drive the speed limit when they are with him?

The answer to all of the above is that I don't know. But as I look back over the last two years of survival and revival….of redefinition and transformation, it has been the strangers in my world who have helped me survive. The gentleman who stopped on the Merritt Parkway to change my flat tire. The woman who carried one of my two crying children up the subway stairs. A neighbor who offered to take my dog for his nightly walks. All strangers in my world who literally saved the day. My day. My life, it seems.

And so, I believe in trusting the stranger in my midst. Including the one who lives six floors above.

Truth is, the most interesting stranger I've met in these days of divorce is myself. The part I had not known fully before. Full of emotions and desire, the entire range, I did not know I had nor could feel. Including forgiveness.