walking a tightrope

My name has gone through a few iterations. I was born a Myers and still identify myself as a Myers girl when appropriate. I married and became a Morstad, and, after Blake W.'s death, entered the confusing world of "what's right" when it comes to a name.

One friend asked if I would then go back to my maiden name, because, as a group, my young friends and I weren't sure what the rules were. If you've been married less than five years and are then widowed, must you go back to the maiden name? The question (and the friend) never hurt me, because I was still navigating the what-to-dos as well. My answer was that I would remain a Morstad, of course. Naturally. Blake's death didn't undo our marriage, and I clung to that.

Blake S.'s name was also a gimme. BW and I had a few names on our shortlist, though we didn't know if the baby was a boy or girl. If a boy, it would be X Walden Morstad, where the X could be William, Samuel, or another one I can't remember right now (though I have our list somewhere, written in his neat hand). Walden was BW's middle name, and it was a combination of his father's and grandfather's names: Steven and Waldo. After he died, I was convinced that the baby was a boy, though I realize this wasn't really rational... but a little girl would have taken me very much by surprise. A boy, now that naming was solely my job, would be Blake Samuel Morstad, because it couldn't be anything else. Blake because DUH. Samuel because we'd both liked it, and it was a way to honor our friend Sam Kavanagh, who lost his leg (well, part of it) as a result of the avalanche. And we'd both be Morstad.

When I was ready to start thinking about such things, I realized that, were I to remarry, I would want my whole family to have the same name. I would want my son to know of and love his Daddy Blake, but identify more with his Daddy that got to be part of his life here on earth. The more I thought about it, the more I figured the best solution was that I would take Morstad as a middle name and Blake S. would have two middle names: Samuel Morstad. I was pretty peaceful about it.

Turns out that changing my name from Morstad, while time consuming, has been a process that has affected my emotions far more strongly than I expected. I still unthinkingly introduce myself as "Addie Morstad," and it makes me sad to realize that one of the easiest ways people could identify me as Blake W.'s wife is gone. I'm also sensitive to the fact that my remarriage, while hoped for by all, has not been easy on my Morstad in-laws for a number of reasons, though my name change is probably low on the list.

Blake S.'s name change, however, is going to be much harder. I am facing full-on the comfort I took in having "Blake Morstad" as part of my life, the comfort in knowing son and father shared names and the identification that goes along with that. June 11 marked the sixty days that Rob and I had to wait for him to formally adopt Blake S., and while we don't have the paperwork done and filed, we'll do so soon, and I'll have to navigate another set of name change documents (hopefully fewer, unless this kid has credit cards and memberships I don't know about). I'm grateful that there's another name to change to, and yet part of me is very sad that the first man I loved and love still is gone and that all this is necessary.

Blakie Sam is wholly on board. He is eager to become a Bedford and has said so numerous times. He calls himself "Blake Bedford" and mentions the time when "we'll all be Bedfords." Rob is along for the ride, not pushing for the papers to be filed, but letting me and my heart (and endless to-do list) guide the way and dictate the timing.

It's confusing, this name thing. I do not have a deep sense of my own heritage due to physical distance from both branches of my parents' families, and finding myself so caught up in my late husband's heritage has been comforting and helpful... until now. It's one more loss, not being a Morstad, one more small thing to grieve, and it's been harder than I ever thought it would be. For it to be less painful would be callow, and I think that perhaps that's a comfort to both me and Rob.

I identify deeply with those whom I love. Moving forward with a new name and new family does not leave the past behind, but nor does it allow the past to dictate my future. What a fine balancing act this is turning out to be, and if I fall, well, I have a whole slew of families to catch me.