The Second Family

How my dad used his overseas job to start a new life

Personal Essay by James Egaran

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The house became an empty, lifeless wasteland as time went on. A house once filled with conversations of “How was your day?” turned into quiet awkwardness. The family room turned into a storage area. The living room couch had a blanket draped on top of it and a couple pillows neatly placed on the left seat.

We all think our parents will stay together. Divorces happen and sometimes they are out of our control as children. But how can you forgive someone who secretly has a second family?

It was my first year of college and I never got a solid reason why from him. I would routinely get calls from him asking how I was, how my siblings were doing and whether the house was in good shape. I would reply with a monotone voice and little interest. “Why didn’t I spot this sooner?” was the only thing I could think of.

My family was proud of my dad moving on and getting his new job as a merchant marine. The only downside is he would be gone months at a time. We could tell he was happy with his new profession. He was moving on with something that was not labor-intensive and allowed him to have a career he could build upon.

He was always singing random pop songs he heard on the radio. I remember we would cringe hearing him sing Rihanna. Sometimes, he would spontaneously wake us up in the morning for unplanned fishing trips. Those days started to disappear and were replaced with hours spent away at the casino. He soon replaced his passion of fishing to gambling. Instead of waking up early, he would return home in the early morning.

He felt he could provide appropriately for the family. One of his promises was to only take jobs that would keep him away for a month or two. As the years passed, our relationship with him became more and more distant. It felt quiet and unnatural.

The signs were there. Parents sleeping in separate rooms, ignoring each other. They had already talked about it. I guess they didn’t want us to know. Not yet.

The promise of only taking month long jobs started to disappear and became six-month-long trips. My siblings and I did not talk about it much. We felt uncomfortable.

For some reason, our home life didn’t change. There was never a deep conversation between any of us about our parents’ divorce. We weren’t good at that type of thing.

I came home from the gym one day and was greeted by my dog jumping in joy. Out of nowhere, my mom told me. My dad had a second family.

I felt partially deaf when she told me the details why. I felt a pile of mixed emotions was dumped on me.

My brother wouldn’t forgive him; there was no room for forgiveness in his mind. My sister would still talk to our dad but never acknowledged the second family; especially the new wife. I would do the same as my sister.

I couldn’t understand it. It was ironic for him to pull something like this, being he was someone who has a code to never lie.

The family room no longer became a storage space after my dad picked up his belongings.

My mom seemed normal. Weeks passed with no signs of grieving from her. A year passed, still nothing. I thought it was strange.

My mom was in the middle of refurbishing the house and had my dad pick the couches up since he needed the furniture. Parents naturally argue. I was expecting them to argue at an entirely different level but since the separation, they conversed normally. It was pretty shitty for dad to leave mom the way he did. We never really thought about how our mom felt. She seemed relieved, almost as if she was set free.

My dad is for lack of a better term, “old fashioned.” As the eldest of my siblings, I remember my parents being the stereotypical married couple. Dad the breadwinner, Mom the housewife. Dad always had to have his say and made big decisions without talking to Mom. It was his way or not. Their relationship wasn’t exactly a pretty one. He always had to be in control without taking anyone else’s opinion into consideration.

Things started to change when my mom decided to break the mold and become a nurse. Maybe my dad is stuck in the past and prefers to have a wife who stays at home while he works, who knows. I loved seeing my mom going to a job she was passionate about. She would come home at night tired but she didn’t have aura of boredom surrounding her.

It amazes me that my mom would endure being trapped for so long; 24 years. I’m proud to see her out and about, remodeling the house the way she wanted and even adopting a cat, Zeus.

Although it hurts to see my dad with another family, at least he keeps in touch. But seeing my mom free is probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.

The walls in each bedroom are now painted bright colors. The kitchen used to have random pieces of artwork my mom painted when she was still with my dad along the wall.

The family room is littered with pet toys and is again fully furnished. On the floor are hundreds of photos of us as children and a half empty photo album that is still a work in progress.