A pressing concern for single parent is this, “What happens to my children if something happens to me?”
Where will they go? Who will take care of them? My boys don’t have an every-other-weekend dad, or a dinner-on-Wednesday-night dad, or a can-you-stay-with-your-dad-while-I-travel-for-work dad, or a maybe-your-dad-could-drive-you-to-practice dad. They don’t have a dad who has ever done anything for them, really.
Which means, that every day, for the last 18 years, my priority was to simply stay alive. To stay alive so my children didn’t end up in a horrible situation made worse by the fact that they had no legitimate guardian, capable of caring for them. The custody situation that would have seemed most reasonable, “Go live with your father,” was the most unreasonable of all solutions.
All of that resolved, today, because today my younger son turned 18, crossing that invisible threshold into adulthood. He is now legally responsible for himself. And while I will always worry about them both him and his brother, I don’t have worry about what would legally happen to them if something were to happen to me. Both of my boys, at 22 and 18, are more capable, competent, and caring than their father is at 59. And that’s not a slam. That’s just the facts.
This is a day that I always hoped would come. Not because I wanted to rush childhood. But because I wanted to know my children would never have to fight a court system that never really fought for them. The day has come. We are relieved.
Day 13, #SingleMom
SUCH relief. You did it. You all did it. We always knew you would.