This may be a repeat for some of you, as I have posted this on another site and will likely post it on myspace.....sorry for the length....

Today marks the 2nd anniversary of my stepmothers passing. Her name was Alice and she died Oct 16, 2006 after a life long battle with Hepatitis C. She contracted the disease in her 20's from sleeping with an infected drug user. At the time, she didn't know that he was infected or for that matter, a drug user/abuser. Her condition lay dormant for years and she eventually got married and had 3 children. Later divorcing their father after a looooong affair with my father that began sometime before I was even born. My mother did not know about this affair until after my younger brother was born and they attended a republican fundraiser for my dad's best friend. While there, Alice approached my dad and was talking to him w/in earshot of my mother who overheard the conversation. Needless to say, it was NOT a good night for anyone.

Not long after, my parents divorced (and it was UGLY). Alice had, by then, divorced her husband. Dad and Alice moved in together in an apartment somewhere in the city. I was not allowed to visit there, as my mother said Alice was trash and I could not be around her. Nice huh? I knew nothing of any of this until a few years back when I finally started asking questions. Little did I know that I already knew Alice. She and my dad had a business together, and I had met her a few times. Way to go dad....dummy. Anyway, a month to the date exactly after my parents divorce was final, my dad married Alice the first time. (yes, they married more than a few times)

We were not allowed to attend the wedding as my mother's hate for my father was stronger than her love for us and our need to feel close to our father. My mother bashed Alice on a daily basis. I remember feeling torn about it, b/c I liked her yet I felt a sense of loyalty to my mother. She was nice to me. I did not like her kids, but she was alright from what I knew at 10 years old. Over the years, constant bickering and out right fighting between my parents kept us from visiting my father very often. However, Alice was always asking us if we were OK. I did not know what that meant then, but I do now. She was concerned about our emotional well being.

When I was 15, I moved in with my Dad and Alice. At first, I was uncomfortable talking with her about my life, but she was so non-judgemental. Something my mother was not, for sure. I began to enjoy being around her, as she was fun. More like a friend than a mom. I do remember asking her once if I could call her mom and she told me that she was OK with it, but that my mom would likely not like it. So, I could call her that only at their house. I was only 10 or 11.

Anyway, when I was 16, they split up and divorced. I was then sent to live with my aunt (another story for another post ).
Sometime within the next few years, they married again, then subsequently divorce later.

Back to Alice. After I married Don, and had skids of my own, she was an invaluable resource. I couldn't have asked for a better friend, mom, and confidant. She was more of a mother to me than my own ever was. She was the most non-judgmental person I have ever met! That was even a big thing at her memorial service. Everyone who spoke made a big deal out of her easy going, laid back personality and her non-judgmental attitude. She just loved everyone, no matter what. I never heard her say that she didn't like someone. She would always talk about the particular situation a person was in, not the person specifically. I loved her for that.

Then, a few years back, she started to become VERY ill. She couldn't keep food down and was pale as a ghost 90% of the time. When she finally went to the doctor, he told her that her life was basically over. The Hepatitis had returned and her quality of life was getting ready to go down hill quickly. She was private about her illness, never really letting anyone know how sick she really was. She lived by herself and only one of her children lived in town and she didn't keep in close contact with her mother. I think I checked on her more than her daughter.

It was right around Christmas one year her son was in town for the holidays from Texas and called me to let me know how bad off she was and that she had little to no food in the house and had no toilet paper, no soap, things were BAD. I rushed out to the grocery store and spent a small fortune on food, but I didn't mind. She was my "mom" in a sense and she was in need. I also went to Walmart and bought her a years supply of everything she would need. I later found out that she had not been working b/c of how sick she was and she was just too proud to ask for help. We got her a lawyer and after being turned down multiple times, she eventually got disability. She had been borrowing money from her sister to pay her utilities. The condo had been paid for a long time ago, so no need to worry about that. Anyway, she was fine after she got her disability money. At least financially.

That next year was her last. She became very ill and was in/out of the hospital many times. Around September, she said that she had made her peace and was tired of fighting. She wanted to die, and I didn't blame her, but for my own selfish reasons, I wanted her to live. I could not imagine my life w/out her in it. About a week before she died, I got to say good bye to her. How often does one get that chance? Most of the time, we are always left with the "I wish I had said..." feeling, but I got to tell her how wonderful my life had been that she had been in it. I got to tell her how grateful I was that she chose to love me instead of hating me or being the "evil step mom". I told her how much I loved her and how much my life was different b/c of her. I told her how appreciative I was for all the advice she had given me about my own SD's. I told her how grateful I was that she loved me my dad and that how I knew in my heart that they were soul mates that just simply could not live together. At the end of our conversation, I hugged her one last time and a tear rolled down her cheek. She was heavily sedated, but I knew she had heard every word I had said. When I turned to walk out of the room, she reached up a grabbed my arm and held my hand and whispered "I love you."

I must say that I held my composure until that moment. I didn't want to upset her more than was necessary, but that moment was the most touching for me.

I miss her today, more than most days. I know I am lucky that I got to experience a person with such grace and eloquence. I am grateful that I chose to rise above my mother's hatred for Alice to get to know what a wonderful person she really was. And, it does not matter to me under which set of circumstances she entered my life, I am just grateful she entered it at all. My heart will always be filled with so much love for a person who wasn't even related to me. Love you Alice!