The day my past and present lives came together
I did not believe in Santa Claus as a young girl. My parents always told me that it was them who bought my presents and wrapped them. Sometimes my mom would write “From Santa” on the gift tag in her own handwriting as a joke. My parents’ honesty made me have a deep respect for them. I knew I could trust them to always tell the truth.
I want my boys to trust me the same way that I trusted my parents, so I plan to tell them the truth about Santa and the tooth fairy, and about the other mysteries of life. If I can’t be honest with them, then how can I expect them to be honest with me?
One day I will have to explain one particular mystery to my sons. I will have to tell them I was once married before I met their father. When I was younger, it was hard for me to fathom the idea that my parents had much different lives before I was born. As we’ve all aged, I have found out some surprising pieces to their life stories.
About two weeks ago, a friend told me that her mom occasionally blurted out things about her dating life as a single woman before she met my friend’s dad. Her mom was also married once before.
“Did you always know that your mom had another husband before your dad?” I asked my friend.
“Yes,” she replied. “It was a part of our conversations.” I really liked that.
The first time I ever thought about the conversation I would have with my children about my previous life happened when a private investigator rang our doorbell unexpectedly. It was about three years ago when my oldest son was only a few months old.
“It’s for you. It’s a white lady,” my partner said.
The people who used to stop by my house before this COVID-19 era knew that I appreciated a courtesy call before they came by. I’ve never liked pop-up visits, even before I found myself as a mother doing these insanely quick cleanups behind my children before company has come over.
As I walked downstairs to greet the mystery person, I thought maybe it was our mail woman delivering something that I needed to sign for or someone trying to get me to join her religious campaign. I cautiously opened the door. There stood a petite woman, who looked like one of the adventurers in the L.L. Bean catalogs that were mailed to my house when I was in middle school. Her bluntly cut and semi-frazzled brown hair sat around the collar bone area of her hiking jacket. She also wore hiking boots. She was not what I expected. I had imagined private investigators looking more like Andy Griffith’s character on “Matlock,” a television show my grandfather and I used to watch together in the ’90s.
“Hi?” I said greeting her, while also questioning her presence on my doorstep.
“Hi,” the woman said with a straight face. I’m June (not her real name), and I’m a private investigator with (XYZ Private Investigators). I’m here because your ex-husband has filed a lawsuit against (the local hospital), and his attorney has been trying to reach you, but hasn’t been able to.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He wants to ask you some questions that may help your ex-husband’s case,” she said.
“I really don’t want to participate,” I said.
Once my marriage ended with my ex-husband, I started a new life and did not look back. People close to me said that he would win his malpractice lawsuit against the hospital, and that I was entitled to the money that the hospital would have to pay because I was his wife at the time of the injury. I was not interested. My ex-husband and I had been through so much during our 4-year marriage that living peacefully became much more valuable than money.
“If you don’t participate, you could be subpoenaed for the case,” the private investigator said. “If you call his lawyer and answer a few questions, he may be able to prevent that from happening.”
“What kind of questions,” I asked.
“About his surgery and some of the conversations you had with the doctors,” she said. “Can I think about it?”
She paused. “Well ... yes. Here’s my card with his lawyer’s email address on it, too. Please let me know one way or the other.”
As I shut the door and went back into the house, I wasn’t sure how I would respond to the private investigator and lawyer, but I was sure that I wasn’t going to let a tumultuous marriage from my past interfere with the intentionally joyful life that I was living in the present. I also became certain that in that moment that I would one day want to share as many of my experiences with my son, and now sons, as possible, so they could learn how I became me, and how they became them.