幸好，我还有另外一个家

家是由关爱构筑的港湾，是每个人心中的温暖。在本文中这种温暖和血缘无关，只是真情的默默付出。一个从小失去父亲的孩子在17岁时无法承受母亲离世和被亲人遗弃的痛苦，此时母亲生前交往过的迈克出现了……

My childhood was filled with the kinds of activities that were common to every kid in the 1980s but are considered almost death-defying these days: tree climbing, bike riding without a helmet, and daylong road trips spent in the backseat of the family car, where we bounced around like Super Balls[1], nary a seat belt in sight.

Still, my mother was safety-obsessed about some things, like swimming lessons. Year after year, she forced me to take them at our local pool in Iowa City since my mother could not swim and was actually afraid of the water.

My dad was an electrician, and he died in an accident on the job when I was three. I have almost no memories of my father. Instead I remember Mike Fieseler. He was a former industrial-arts[2] teacher whom my mother dated off and on for much of my childhood. Whatever my mother’s affection for him, it didn’t rub off on[3] me. And when they stopped dating, when I was 15, I wasn’t unhappy to see him go.

Then, on February 18, 1991, when I was 17, my mother suddenly died of a brain aneurysm[4]. One minute she was laughing with friends, enjoying an evening out; the next, she was unconscious on the floor. She never woke up. Just 19 hours later, she was dead, leaving Jason, my 15-year-old brother and me orphans.

In the moments of shock and horror that followed, my relatives all gathered in the hospital, and I went home with only a close friend for company (Jason followed a while later). We spent that night on our own. I was numb; it had all happened so fast. I could barely think beyond the immediate moment.

The next morning, my grandfather, aunts, and uncles were still immersed in their own mourning. Shell-shocked[5] as I was, I knew I had to let people know what had happened. I saw my mother’s address book lying where she had set it only days before and started dialing. One of the phone numbers I found was Mike’s.

Even though he lived about an hour away, it felt like he was there in an instant. As soon as he walked in, he took charge―and took care of Jason and me. Among other small kindnesses, he gave me a credit card and said, “Why don’t you buy something to wear to the funeral?” He gave me permission to be a 17-year-old―to focus on the more mundane[6] issue of what I was going to wear instead of weighty adult concerns.

Generally, when children are orphaned, a family member comes forward to take them in. This didn’t happen in our case. Everyone had a good reason, I suppose. My mom’s father was too old to assume responsibility for us; my mother’s sister and her husband had three kids of their own and weren’t able to take in any others; her other two siblings were both single and worked long hours. The guardian named in my mother’s will was a babysitter that none of us had seen in 15 years. But I can tell you this: Abandonment, even for very good reasons, feels awful. It was heartbreaking and terrifying to have lost the person we loved most and then to be set adrift. Months passed and it felt like our relatives could offer no reassurances. The only news we got was that if Jason and I remained without a guardian, we would have to enter foster care[7]. Our mother was gone, and there was nothing we could do to save ourselves.

And, once again, there was Mike. After the funeral, he was a constant presence. He made sure that food filled the cupboards, the bills were paid, and the lawn was mowed. (Mike’s adult daughter, Linda, pitched in[8] and took care of his house.) He made sure I went back to school even when it was the last thing I wanted to do. His overbearing[9] personality―the trait I had hated the most―was what comforted me the most and got me through those difficult days.

One day he offered to become our guardian. In a moment where the grief of loss and the pain of being unwanted threatened to capture my very breath, this man, whose only tie to us was having dated my mother, said he would be honored to take us in.

From that moment on, everything was different. His girlfriend, Patty, threw us a “guardian party” when the paperwork[10] became official. It was just a small gathering, but it made us feel special.

Over the years, Mike has become not merely a legal guardian but a real father to me. When I fell into depression in college, unable to get past thoughts of my mother and all I had lost, he was there to listen. When my husband, Eric, and I bought our first house, Mike spent weekends installing insulation and repairing our gutters. He never wrote me off as[11] a good, mature kid who could handle everything herself. He walked the line between trusting me and recognizing when I might need help. And what more could you want from a father than that?

His was an unconventional path to parenthood, to say the least.[12] It is not by birth or adoption that I consider this man to be my father; it isn’t even through his presence in my childhood. It is rather by sheer good luck on my part. Before he made that generous offer, I felt as though I had lost my mooring[13] and the waters were flooding in; afterward, I simply felt rescued. If my mother had taught me to be strong and depend on myself, Mike imparted his own lesson―that the world will provide for you, even when you least expect it.

Eight years after Mike stepped forward, he walked me down the aisle[14]. Four years after that, I gave birth to his first granddaughter, Emily Michl Simonson. (Mike’s legal name is Michl.) The name is a reminder of my saved past and a promise for the future, and I hope one day Emily will see that as well. Because as much as I plan to teach her to swim (indeed, she’s now six and enrolled in lessons), I also want her to know this: No matter how fast the waters rise, no matter how hard it may be to keep her head above the waves, someone will throw her a line.

小时候，我经常爬树、不戴头盔骑自行车、进行公路旅行时整日坐在自家车的后座上像超级球一样蹦来蹦去，从来不系安全带。这些活动对生活在20世纪80年代的孩子来说很普遍，但是在如今这简直就是不要命了。

但是，我母亲在有些事情上过于担心我的安全，比如上游泳课。母亲不会游泳，而且她其实很怕水，于是年复一年，她都强迫我在我们爱荷华市的当地游泳池学习游泳。

我父亲是个电工。我三岁那年，他在工作时发生了事故，去世了。我对父亲几乎没什么记忆。相反，我记得迈克•菲泽勒。他以前是个工艺课老师，在我的大半个童年里母亲都和他时断时续地交往。无论母亲多喜欢他，对我都丝毫没有影响。我15岁时，他们停止了交往，对他的离去我并未感到不快。

然后，1991年2月18日，母亲突然死于脑瘤。那年我17岁。前一分钟她还在和朋友们一起大笑，尽情享受晚间外出的时光;而后一分钟她就昏倒在地上，再也没有醒来。仅仅19个小时后，她就去世了，留下我和15岁的弟弟贾森，我们成了孤儿。

接下来的时间充满了震惊和恐惧，我的亲戚们全都到医院里来了。我回家时，身边只有一个好朋友陪伴(过了一会儿贾森也回来了)。我们独自度过了那一晚。我一下子傻了，这一切都发生得太快。我沉浸在当时的痛苦中，根本不能思考其他事情。

第二天早晨，我的外祖父和姨妈舅舅们还沉浸在他们自己的悲痛中。尽管我当时非常惶恐和迷惘，但是我知道我得把这个消息通知给大家。我看到了母亲前几日放在那里的电话本，开始打电话。其中一个电话号码是迈克的。

他住的地方离我家有一个小时的路程，但他好像立刻就到了。他一走进来就接手了家里的事情——开始照顾我和贾森。在他很多充满关心的举动中，其中一个就是给了我一张信用卡，对我说：“去给自己买件葬礼上穿的衣服吧。” 他允许我做一个17岁的孩子——让我将心思放在更实际的穿什么衣服的问题上，而不要求我像成年人一样思考沉重的问题。

通常情况下，有孩子沦为孤儿时，他们的家庭成员会前来收养他们。但当我和弟弟成了孤儿时，情况却并非如此。我想他们每个人都有足够的理由吧。母亲的父亲年纪太大了，不能再承担照顾我们的责任;母亲的姐姐/妹妹和她的丈夫养育了三个孩子，不可能再抚养更多的孩子了;而她的另外两个兄弟(或姐妹)都单身，而且都长时间在外工作。母亲的遗嘱指定的监护人是一个保姆，一个我和弟弟在15年里都不曾见过的人。但是我可以告诉你：被遗弃的感觉很糟糕，无论遗弃你的人有多么充分的理由。刚刚失去挚爱的人，紧接着生活就没有了着落，这种感觉令人心碎和恐慌。几个月过去了，我们的亲戚好像都不能收留我们。我们得到的唯一的消息是：如果我和贾森接下来仍然没有监护人的话，我们就不得不去寄养机构了。母亲走了，而我们对保护自己却束手无策。

又一次，迈克出现了。葬礼之后，他就成了家里的常客。他确保柜子里有食物、账单已经付了，而且草坪也已经修剪了。(迈克已成年的女儿也加入进来了，她负责照看迈克的房子。)他确保我回到学校，即便那是我最不情愿做的事情。他专横的性格——以前我最讨厌他的地方——现在却给了我最大的安慰，帮我度过了那段艰难的日子。

一天，他提出要做我们的监护人。在失去亲人的悲伤和被人遗弃的痛苦几乎让我窒息的时候，这个男人说收养我们是他的荣幸，而他和我们的关系仅仅是他曾经和我母亲交往过。

从那一刻起，一切都不同了。当收养手续生效时，他的女友帕蒂给我们开了一个“监护人晚会”。那只是个很小的聚会，但足以让我们受宠若惊。

这些年来，迈克不仅仅是个法律上的监护人，而且成了我真正的父亲。上大学时，我因无法忘怀母亲和我失去的一切而陷入忧郁时，他在旁边倾听。当我和丈夫埃里克买了我们的第一所房子时，迈克周末过来帮我们安装隔音装置和修理水槽。他从来都没把我当成一个可以自己打理一切的成年人来看待。他在信任我和帮助我之间看着我，知道什么时候该信任我，而我需要帮助的时候他总能看出来。有这样一个父亲，还有什么不知足的呢?

最起码，他成为父亲的路径是不寻常的。我将他当做自己的父亲，既不是因为血缘关系，也不是因为收养关系，甚至也不是因为他出现在我的童年中。相反，这仅仅是因为我的好运。他提出那个大方的邀请之前，我觉得自己已经无处停泊，洪水已经向我涌来。而后，我只觉得自己被解救了。如果妈妈教我的是强壮和独立，那么迈克则传授了他自己的课程——世界会给你帮助，即便是你没有丝毫期待的时候。

迈克进入我的生活八年以后，我结婚了，他拉着我的手走过教堂的通道。又过了四年，他的第一个外孙女埃米莉• 米希尔•西蒙森降生了。(迈克依法登记的名字是米希尔。)这个名字让我想起得到拯救的过去，看到美好的将来，我希望有一天埃米莉也能明白这些。因为就像我如何策划教她游泳一样(事实上，她现在六岁，已经开始学习游泳了)，我也希望她明白：无论水涨得多快，无论在浪花中将头露在水面上有多困难，总会有人扔一根救命的绳索过来。