Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. (It’s anonymous!)
Dear Prudence,
Five years ago, my family lost my daughter-in-law and their baby in a car accident. It was a blow that we never thought we would recover from, but time marches on and you have to move with it. Our son is dating “Dana” and they are expecting! This should be a wonderful time for us, but Dana made a bizarre request that my daughter and I remove all the family pictures that have my former DIL and their baby in it. She hates coming over to my home and seeing my son’s first wedding photo on the wall. I have a collection going up the stairs that includes our entire family. I knew my former DIL from the time she was in diapers.
I tried to explain to Dana what the photos meant and that I had been in the same position. I married a widower and adopted his daughter. His first wife is included on the wall. Love just adds more room to your heart. Dana now will not come over and says neither will the baby. My son is desperate to make this work and my daughter has called Dana an insecure brat. I feel so helpless here. Can you help us?
—Old Photos
Dear Old Photos,
Dana is in fact insecure, and to put it bluntly: This is nuts. It’s not about the photos; it’s about her jealousy over a woman who is no longer here. And this won’t be the last time that jealousy rears its head in her relationship with your son. But I assume your desire to see your grandchild is greater than your desire to see these old photos in their current location, or to prove that you’re right. You might just have to let Dana win by doing a little redecorating. Move the pictures of your daughter in law to upstairs, or somewhere where a visitor won’t have to see them. And while you’re up there, clear out the bedroom that your son may be moving into when she kicks him out of the house for some unhinged reason a year from now.
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Dear Prudence,
I had a friend who was like a mother figure. I helped her.
She was living alone, her children rarely visited, and she called me constantly. When she became ill, I sat at her bedside when I could. Her family members seemed respectful, but after her death, they started telling others that I was their mother’s maid and that I worked for the family. I am a lawyer by trade with a family of my own, and my husband is a professional as well. I have confronted the individual that has been fostering the rumors and they have neglected to respond. I do not understand the motive of making those negative associations and attempting to rank me lower in the socioeconomic hierarchy with such villainous and dishonest untruth.
—Depraved and Evil
Dear Depraved,
Here’s my theory: Your friend’s children are having a lot of regret about not being there for their mother in her final days. To acknowledge that someone else, who had absolutely no obligation to her, was by her side when they weren’t might feel shameful and embarrassing. I don’t know why exactly this is coming up in conversation, but I can imagine that describing you as am employee somehow keeps them from having to confront what really happened. It’s not about you and not intended to hurt or devalue you. It’s just one of those weird things that happen when people are grieving. Obviously lying is wrong, but take some comfort in the fact that there’s nothing horribly shameful about being “lower in the socioeconomic hierarchy” and also that they are spreading these lies to strangers. Anyone who actually knows you knows what your real relationship to this woman was—and most important, she knew.
Dear Prudence,
I’m a 74-year-old gay man. My husband died 11 years ago after a 40-year relationship; it took me two years to restore equilibrium, but it’s nine years later and I’m perfectly happy to be the single man that I am now. My friends know that, but I still belong to some of the gay sites I used to belong to and, on those, men ask me why I’m so reluctant to find someone else to be romantic with. I tell them I grew up as an only child (it’s the truth), and I’m happier like this. What I do need, however, is friends, and it’s beginning to seem to me that the only good friends I have are the folks that staff the restaurants I go to. (I do document my meals out at a website, so it scratches my writer’s itch.) I’m not sure what to do to make new friends, something I was never good at before I met Jim. I’m still working as a college professor, but entirely online due to some health problems I have. How do I make new friends at this advanced age?
—Professor Gourmand
Dear Professor,
You mention having some friends, and that’s great! When they ask why you’re not dating, why don’t you go beyond answering that question honestly to tell them what you actually want and need, and how they can help you. For example: “I grew up as an only child and I don’t feel like I want another partner right now. But I really would like to make more friends. If you’re going to a gathering or event where I might meet more people, would you consider letting me tag along?” In addition, look for cooking classes, writing groups, and local blogger meetups to find even more people who share interests in common with you. Finally, if you can afford to treat someone to dinner now and then, why don’t you reach out to a handful of colleagues who you find likable and say you’re looking for people to accompany you on your restaurant reviewing adventures?
Catch up on this week’s Prudie.
More Advice From Slate
My late husband lost his first wife in a tragic accident when they were young. She was a talented artist and did several lovely semi-abstract self-portraits. I adore the paintings and have them displayed all over my home. Recently, I had family over and one of them asked about the origins of a painting. I told the truth. Apparently I had never mentioned this to my sisters—they’d assumed the paintings were of me. (We are both brunettes.) Since then I have been forced to endure conversation after conversation with them about their “concerns.” They are picking apart my marriage with my late husband, my mental health, and why I “need” the paintings.
