'She sees me as his father. He sees me as his father; it is only me that see myself as a stepfather', writes Dirk Lotriet. Photo: iStock
I don’t have a stepson anymore. Well, technically I do. I’m still married to the lovely Snapdragon and according to any definition her son is called my stepson.
But from today I don’t call him that anymore. Last weekend we visited friends who lived around the corner.
They have a huge photograph against their wall of the time they got married – around the same time Snapdragon moved in with me.
He had three children and she had three of her own. And somehow they managed to navigate the complex situation in their stride and forged a seamless family.
They even look alike.
“How do they manage to build such a strong extended family in such challenging conditions?” I asked Snapdragon on our way home.
“The difficulty is not in the conditions, it’s within,” Snapdragon answered in a rare moment of wisdom.
Of course, she’s right.
Some people collect stamps. Some collect memorabilia.
Snapdragon collects drama.
Exactly like I do, some will say.
Earlier this week she phoned me.
“My son is going on a rugby week. On the Thursday evening, there is a braai for players’ dads. Will you attend as his dad?”
“Why me?” I asked. “He has a biological father. And a grandfather who has always been there for him.”
“Because you’re the one who puts food on the table for him every evening,” she answered. “You’re the one who teaches him the fine art of civilised manliness. He sees you as his father.”
“Hmmm,” I said, which is Dirkspeak for “It will be a privilege to be there.”
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Later this week I overheard a phone conversation.
Snapdragon was talking to the boy’s rugby coach.
“I don’t know if he will be able to play. It’s his father’s birthday…”
It took me a few seconds to realise she was talking about me – it’s my birthday tomorrow.
Then a thought penetrated my sometimes foggy old brain: she sees me as his father. He sees me as his father.
It is only me that see myself as a stepfather.
How stupid can a man be!
I often call others idiots, but it is painful to suddenly realise that I’m nothing more than a fool.
From this day, dear reader, I don’t have a stepson anymore. I only have sons. Who knows, in a year’s time, we may also all look alike.
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