Tuesday, March 15th, 2016

When it comes time to say “my step-dad is dying,” I can’t figure out how to convey that I feel more than step-sad about it. It is a problem that I’ve faced for a long time: step- offers little to no insight on a person’s relationship with the prefixed figure. Presumably, when you say “my mom is sick,” whoever is listening assumes (probably rightly) that this is the person who took care of you when you were sick, who was there when you took your first steps, who cheered you from the sidelines. Sometimes they might be wrong but, you know, odds are good.

Step-parents aren’t the same. Cultural notions about the relationship are more complex, or — at least — more ambiguous. You can’t guess from the prefix how long a step-parent has been in someone’s life, like you can with, say, “mom.” You can’t tell in what ways they have guided, loved, intervened. You can’t tell how much they have seen you, or shaped you. And that’s hard. Because on it’s face, all “my step-dad is dying” tells you is that someone who married your mother is sick. That isn’t enough here.

What I want to be able to say is that the man who taught me patience is about to be gone. What I want you to hear is that the man who supported my mother truly through thick and thin is about to die. What I want to you to know is that the person who taught be what it means to look past sensation and scandal for the people trying to find happiness, who taught me what empathy could mean when extended beyond what was easy — that person I am about to be without. That all of us — his friends and family, those would have gone on to meet — are going to be without. He’s going to die in a matter of weeks, months.

I want to tell you that my step-dad is dying. That Tom is dying. And that I’m very sad about it. And that I have to go be there.

This is a part of a series of essays which I began while my step-father Tom — a good man — was undergoing treatment for particularly aggressive brain cancer. He began experiencing acute symptoms on March 6th, 2016, and passed away nineteen days later.

His family and friends started a college scholarship fund in his memory. If you would like to donate, you can do so at tombroadheadscholarship.org.

Eric.