In the orthodox world, widows, widowers and divorcees are encouraged to get back on the bandwagon quickly — as it says, “It is not good for man to be alone”. The Ortho dating pool is filled with freshly single folk ready for a second (or even a third) go-round, and it isn’t unusual for second marriages to happen within months of the first one ending.

So it was no big surprise when my father started dating. Apparently, the buzzing Manhattan singles scene is full of eligible women on the market for a 56-year-old math geek with a motorcycle, four grown kids, and who holds the record for most viewings of “The Hunt for Red October”. Since the fall, Dad has been telling me about one woman or another he’s been hanging out with, and once in a while asks me for dating advice (talk about turned tables…), but for the most part, nothing has gotten too serious.

Until now. My father recently began seeing a woman named Channie, a former Brooklynite who now lives on the UWS. From what he tells me, he’s over the moon about her, and things are looking like they might get serious pretty quickly. This past weekend, Dad brought Channie up to Boston and the Cape to meet my siblings and me. I, of course, cooked up a storm for the occasion. They spent Shabbos with us here at the Cape house so we could get to know each other a bit. Yonah took right to her and Akiva gave her his mark of approval by pooping all over her skirt.

As for me, well, what can I say? Channie is a really nice person, gregarious and funny, and she and my dad clearly care for each other. My father seems really happy. But it was a lot harder for me than I thought it would be, seeing him with someone who is not my mother, because that means my mother isn’t here. It made me miss her terribly. I pictured this new person becoming a part of our family and it felt like watching a broadway show featuring the understudy instead of the star.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m really happy for my Dad. He’s only 56, after all, and he shouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life living on canned tuna and bagged salad, eaten with plasticware in front of his computer. The thought of him growing old, alone, in his one-bedroom apartment, falling asleep each night in front of his 52-inch flatscreen is downright depressing. He life needs a woman’s touch — I can see my mother, wherever she is, shaking her head in exasperation at his bare-bones apartment (”Would it kill him to have ONE throw pillow?”) — and he deserves some companionship. But our family is changing at rapid-fire speed here. It’s hard to compute, and even harder to let go of the family I once knew. Because like it or not, it’s gone. Also, on a purely selfish level, I’m not ready to give up the role of Dad’s “go-to girl”. For the past year and change, even when Mom was still sick, we worked as partners to take care of her and keep things going. Now he comes to me for my opinions and input. With this new person, I probably won’t be his first stop anymore.

Needless to say, there are some mixed feelings here. But, as my good friend Amy says, “It doesn’t always stay like this”. Life shifts and changes and we have to deal with whatever comes as it comes. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. In fact, sometimes, in downright stinks. But, in the end, these are the things that make us who we are.