So, I recently took several huge steps to begin my new life, and while listing the house is certainly a big one, probably the most impactful change is that I’ve changed my name back to my legal maiden name.
I had a long talk with both Abby and Michael before officially petitioning the court. I wanted both of them to know that dropping the name “Grubbs” in no way diminishes the love I shared with Grubby, the love I still carry for him today. I also wanted to make sure that they were okay with me having a different last name from them, especially Abby, who I legally adopted. They both understood and both agreed that I needed to do what was best for me.
When my first husband and I divorced in 2000, I kept his last name because I liked the inevitable nickname that came with it: “Mother Tucker”. Everyone called me that, and it stuck. Plus, it afforded me some anonymity from people from my past who I didn’t want to be able to find me in my future. Not only did the Navy give me the opportunity to physically escape from locations and people that were tied to bad or painful memories, the new name allowed me to forget them altogether, and to know that I wouldn’t be easy to find. I remained “Mother Tucker” until Grubby and I were married 17 years later.
I was proud to take Grubby’s name, to be Mrs. Grubbs. I was proud of him, and I loved him deeply. Of course, when he died, everything in my life turned upside down… Every. Single. Thing. I never once thought about not being Mrs. Grubbs, even though it meant that I was now also “the widow Grubbs”. I was young. I looked like I was in my early-to mid 30’s, and felt like it too. I hadn’t planned to be a widow at such a young age. I didn’t want to be a widow at that age. Widowhood was something for old people, not people like me – perpetually in our late 20’s. Anyway… I digress.
I’ve missed my dad terribly since losing him last year, and part of that was missing the name he gave me. When I was younger, I hated my middle name; I wanted a normal middle name like “Lisa” or “Mary” or “Beth”, but I didn’t have one of those… I had “Lake”. When I once asked why they’d named me that, they told me that it was because they met on a lake and that lakes were such an important part of their lives and story. That just embarrassed me more, but it’s funny how we change over the years.
Plus, it’s not as though Grubby’s family reaches out to me. His cousin came to Arlington when we interred him there in June, but that’s it. They’ve had their family reunions here in Danville and Abby, Michael, and I haven’t learned about them until well after the fact. It’s clear that I am no longer considered a member of their family to them, so why would I even want to keep their name?
So, after much thought, and some discussion, I went to the courthouse in July and petitioned to return to my birth name. Less than 24 hours later, I was in possession of a document that gave me my old name back.
Since I was scheduled to travel a lot, I decided not to begin changing the paperwork over until I had time to change all of it, until I wasn’t risking my TSA Pre-Check status because of a mixup with what Social Security had on file being different from what my airline tickets or passport said, so I held off on the change… until last Thursday, when I went to the Social Security office to drop off my paperwork. I should get my new card soon.
Officially, though, I am now back to being Jeanne Lake McKee, and I’m proud of that name now. I tell people that I’m going back in time, looking, acting, and feeling like that girl in her mid-20s again, just as she was when I left her there – minus the drinking and painful memories. As Jimmy Buffett once said, “Growing older is mandatory, but growing boring is optional.”
It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, like I am finally free to live again. I know Grubby would want that for me. There is a part of my heart that will always belong to Grubby, and that won’t ever change, regardless of what name I wear…
