I tried to stay close to my ex’s family after my divorce. But when his sister died, I realized things had changed.

While these things remind me of Barbara daily, it is the thing I took without telling anyone that means the most to me. During my night alone in her house, I was cold. I went into Barbara’s closet and found a gray pullover fleece that flared out at the bottom. It was way too big for me, but when I pulled it over my head, I knew I wasn’t going to give it back.

I wore it over my pajamas in her guest room and took it with me the next day. I imagined that Barbara would have been happy that I had something more personal than a sculpture or a soup ladle. She would understand that her sweatshirt would remind me of our cool summer nights in Maine and the bond we had as sisters.

My bond with the family is no longer as close, but I understand

A month later, I went back to the house for the memorial service held only for family and close friends. In the front row, I saw my ex-husband and his girlfriend, my sister-in-law, and mother-in-law. I sat in the last row with my daughter and people I didn’t know. When no one motioned for me to come forward, I finally recognized that I didn’t belong in the front rows reserved for immediate family.

For years, I had mourned the end of my marriage and fought the natural evolution of my dwindling relationship with my in-laws. I thought, if I tried really hard, I could hang onto them. But Barbara’s death made two things clear. My ex-husband’s girlfriend was family now. And I was no longer married to my ex’s family.

I still call or text on their birthdays, but I stopped inviting them to dinner. On cool nights, I still wear Barbara’s sweatshirt over my pajamas.