Today my mother-in-law is 83. Her name is Nelta and I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful mother-in-law.
Technically, since her son and I never married (because we couldn’t) she isn’t my mother-in-law. But she has proven a marriage license does not a mother-in-law make.
It’s been 19 years since her son Scott, my soul mate, passed from hiv complications.
Every time I speak with Nelta she gets a little teary eyed. Perhaps she thinks about where our lives (Scott and I) would be if he had not passed on. Perhaps hearing my voice simply brings back memories of Scott. I’ve never discussed it with her. I usually get a little teary eyed with her.
Nelta has buried two sons and a husband yet she remains upbeat. She has always been the model of strength for me. She loves me as much as she does any of her ‘official’ son-in-laws. I feel blessed.
Being a gay man we don’t expect such wonderfulness. Many of us would never expect a wonderful and accepting ‘mother-in-law’. I know I sure didn’t. Add the fact that their family is from a very very small south Texas town and it’s pretty amazing.
When Scott’s father was alive his favorite chair broke. I fixed it and quickly became his favorite ‘son-in-law’. In fact, it was later that day, at the family barbeque that I was offered a taste (from the father) from the grill. This is an honor the father seldom granted anyone. It made me feel very special. I think ‘the real’ ‘son-in-laws’ were jealous.
Scott’s father was a legend in that part of South Texas. In fact, he was a Caballero from days gone by. Indeed a large banking firm had a huge picture of Scott’s father, on horseback, in the lobby of their bank. Needless to say, if you pictured a redneck, Scott’s father would fit the bill rather nicely. However, appearances are often deceiving. Even Nelta mentioned how shocked she was when he gave me a taste from the grill.
Happy Birthday Nelta.
I love you.
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