Sidney Rosen passed away last weekend, a day after his 92nd birthday. Many in our Gotham family had met Sidney over the years as he accompanied my mother to Gotham events. Mom and Sidney had twelve wonderful years together -- sharing their love, companionship, friends and families. They both grew and blossomed over those years.
There ought to be a special word for the Sidneys (and Esthers) in the lives of very adult children. Somehow “Step-Dad” didn't work for me once I, myself, was eligible for membership in AARP.
I called him “Sidney” and he called me “Ben”. When I referred to him to other people, I had a tough time. “My mother’s husband” was usually the best I could do, but it was a sterile factual description that failed to capture Sidney’s importance in my life (and, hopefully, my importance in his).
There’s a hole in my life with Sidney gone. A hole that is made up of the absence of all of those things that Sidney meant to me, Mom and our family.