Named

Tuesday is supposed to be my book day, but my book post for this week accidentally turned into a Sunday post instead. So, here's a non-book-related story for you. I've thought about sharing it before but have always held off, just in case the day I tell it is the day that my dad's side of my family all suddenly start reading my blog. (If they are already, then they're being very very quiet about it, which is... unlike us.) But I finally got a chance to tell this story to the relevant cousin at our uncle's funeral, so I no longer feel weird about sharing.

Every time I think the suggested pics
on the free images site couldn't get
weirder, it manages to outdo itself.
Searching for "name" is no exception.
I truthfully wasn't expecting to find
one that was usable, but lo and
behold. Source: blogmonkey on
freeimages.com.

When I took Chadwick's name when we got married, it was not a decision I took lightly. It wasn't a matter of course for me, even though it probably seemed like it was to anyone who didn't get to be there for my months of back-and-forth. Essentially, it boiled down to this: I liked his name better than my own. Wilcox it was going to be.

But then along came a day, a decade and a degree each later, when I was about to earn my MA, and I pointed out to Chad that while both of our BAs had his family's name on them, my own family (I was the first of my grandparents' descendants to go to college, although #2 was right on my heels) had no such honor in our house. Chadwick agreed that this was pretty unfair and that my granddad's name should get equal representation.

We were still talking through what that was going to look like--I knew I wanted both my last names hyphenated on my MA, but beyond that I hadn't decided whether to use both names professionally from then on or just stick with Wilcox. I for sure didn't want to have to write fourteen letters plus a hyphen every time I signed my name, so it wasn't going to be a formal change. But you all know what happened next--Chadwick died suddenly three months before my graduation date, and that settled it. There would be no hyphenating or honoring anyone else's legacy apart from his and mine with my diploma. My cousin who was only a year away from earning a JD already carries the family name, with no hand-wringing required. He could represent for all of us.

So I told him this after the funeral, and added, "Thanks for having my back," and we had a little chuckle over that. The family legacy is better off in his hands, anyway. I would probably just drop it and accidentally break bits off.

No, no, no. I'm not spelling it like that.
Source: Grant Oyston on freeimages.com.

Various relatives have taken turns, and my grandmother more turns than anyone, at asking if I'll ever get married again. Not having a crystal ball, I don't know the answer to that, but if it does happen it won't be any time in the foreseeable future. I can't imagine opening my heart that much a second time, not when it's already fractured. But this much I know for sure: I'm not changing my name again. I'm leaving this earth a Wilcox.

Because Chadwick's legacy is safe in my hands.