He was thirty-three years old and had already been married fourteen years. He and his wife had survived bankruptcy, twenty-five cross-country moves, cancer, job hirings and job firings and mostly lean times. They had three children in four years and then the surprise baby who arrived five years later. For quite a few years, the marriage had been stale. He quit conversing with her. They exchanged few words, fewer looks, no affection. They’d promised to love forever, but forever stretched so far past the horizon that he finally gave up. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life trapped in this beige box of discontent. He couldn’t endure this. It was no way to live, he said. He wanted to be free.
He bought a big yellow do-it-yourself divorce book. And without warning, the divorce grenade hit our family and blew up the life we knew. It was as if our parents agreed it would be better to demolish the house that was our family, in order to rebuild houses somewhere else out of the scavenged materials. They thought it would be better for us somehow. Blow it up. Sort the debris. Rebuild.
The problem with blowing a house to smithereens is that you aren’t left with much but a hole in the ground. Once the debris settled and the dust cleared, we barely recognized each other. The jokes we shared were obliterated along with the walls of our house. We were all so badly injured by the blast that we curled in upon ourselves, determined to live or die alone. I was eleven then.
Neither our mother or our father were able to salvage much of what had been our family. They started over with new people, leaving us to pick through the scattered remains of our yesterdays. My brother and sisters were badly damaged and suffered lifelong emotional disabilities from the divorce. I emerged fairly unscathed and managed to find healing when I forgave my parents for their mistakes when I was twenty.
But I still don’t understand how anyone would choose to blow up a marriage instead of finding a way to remodel it. Unless a house is unfit for habitation, doesn’t it make sense to remodel? Or to add on? Why toss a grenade?
My parents spent the fourteen years after their divorce regretting their decision. They each remarried vastly inappropriate people. They were each divorced again. My mother remarried two more times; each man was more horrific than the last. (Shotguns, bruises, too much alcohol, unemployment–fill in the blanks.) My sisters and brother and I were taken care of on a purely physical level, but our hearts were crushed. When we came home from school each afternoon to an empty house, we each retreated to our own rooms and locked the doors. We came out for dinner and then disappeared again to our safety zones behind closed doors. My brother and one sister battled drugs and made a series of scary decisions.
Every day was not a horror, of course. We had happy times. We celebrated birthdays. We shared some hobbies, long-distance bicycling, mostly. We gardened together. I excelled at school and busied myself with volunteer obligations and church activities. We might have seemed to have adjusted well to our new blended family. But I always figured that at any time, our family might derail and I knew that I couldn’t count on any of the grown-ups to rescue us. It was every man for himself.
That’s what my parents’ divorce taught me. I learned that the only person I can really count on is me. Promises mean nothing. Parents may or may not stick around. Expect nothing. Guard your heart. Keep a distance.
Should my parents have stayed in an unloving, dull, unfulfilling relationship? No. They ought to have remodeled that relationship, reframed it, redecorated it, paid attention to the structure of their life together. Grown-ups get to make those sorts of decisions and they have an obligation to their children to grow up and to realize that life is not just all about them anymore. And life is not all about being “happy.” “Happy” is not the point. I’ll take commitment and promise over “happy” any day of the week.
My dad died a mere fourteen years after he divorced my mother and exploded our family. My mother was in the room when he died, holding his hand, crying, despite everything–all the subsequent spouses and houses and divorces–with him until death parted them. He loved her in his flawed, imperfect way. She loved him. They hurt each other and instead of holding on, sticking together, figuring it out, truly growing up together, keeping their promises, they burned the bridge our family stood on.
None of us knows the last scene of our lives. That moment may be distant or it may be around the next bend. Situations and relationships are fluid, changing, always in flux. What looks foreboding and simply impossible today might seem like a small challenge tomorrow. That scarred landscape ahead might be bordered by a delightful path along an ice-cold river. You just don’t know until you get there.
But don’t blow up the house when rearranging the furniture will do. Remodel, don’t demolish. For the sake of the kids. Because I promise you, the house built from broken boards and shattered glass and torn shingles will never seem like home to the kids, even if you love the new skylight and figure everyone will forget the old home place. The kids never forget.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
Great blog, Mel! I knew the story about your parents, but was surprised about more of the coincidences we share. My parents were married 28 years and then divorced. They both remarried. (Mom once, and Dad, twice). My siblings and I all wish they would have remained married despite their “unhappiness”. My Mom (who was married to another man at the time) was at his deathbed when Dad died.
Rearranging the furniture would have been a better option for all involved, IMHO.
PS – for some reason I haven’t seen you online to IM. Miss you š
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“…life is not all about being “happy.” “Happy” is not the point. I’ll take commitment and promise over “happy” any day of the week.”
I completely agree. Its hard to get someone who doesn’t see life the same way (there are many in my life) to understand and appreciate that. Great post.
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Mel, I bestow on you the high honor of the 5 Wow’s.
Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
I think you would love reading Elizabeth Goudge’s book, “A Bird in a Tree”. If you can’t find it, I will have my son snag you a copy in England. It tells the story of a woman who could have escaped her marriage, but at the last minute just could not do that to her children. It is profound – but such an unpopular view today.
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I love the 5 Wow’s idea and I bestow them on you too! W,W,W,W,W!!!!!
I have not been touched by divorce, but you painted a picture of it for me with your words, so I could see it and feel it through your eyes. What a gifted writer you are.
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That was so wonderfully written, and touching!
Very rarely are there parents who divorce so amicably that their children aren’t scarred. I think it should be a priority that if they can’t stay married, they should do everything within their power to keep their children feeling secure. It IS possible, I’ve heard about divorced couples still doing stuff together, even after they remarried, and keeping the children feeling secure. It requires being an adult, making compromises and thinking of the kids before yourself.
It sounds like you’re a strong person, and like you said, know you have to depend upon yourself. That’s not a bad thing to have gained from divorce. It’s just sad you had to go through it so early in life.
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Well said.
It makes my small “baggage” of dealing with my Mom dating after Dad’s death seem rather insignificant.
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Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. (that’s 5) What an awesome post, Mel. I haven’t been touched by divorce, but I thank you for sharing such an intimate look at what it does to the “survivors.”
Isn’t it a shame that of all the things that require being a certain age or having a certain amount of training, marriage and having children aren’t among them?
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Thank you for sharing this Mel, I wish more people would shout this view from the rooftops.
I have both family and friends who have been torn apart by divorce – in all cases things just went from bad to worse for all involved. Just when I think I couldn’t possibly hate divorce more, someone else I know and love is affected by it. It just tears me to pieces to see all the fallout, so much senseless pain and tragedy!!
I’m grateful for your voice and your story. I hope folks who need to read this find it, for the sake of their kids.
grace to you,
Feeble
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I third or quadruple the five wows. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. As a writer you had me, the reader transfixed. Thank you for this wonderful piece.
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My mom threw the grenade when I was 12. I’ve wanted to post something like what you did, but my mom reads my blog, so I don’t think I can. You are SO right about using a bandaid instead of a grenade. In their selfishness parents don’t realize the permanent emotional wounds they inflict on their children through divorce. In addition, those who work through the problems and improve their marriages reap great rewards for themselves.
Thanks for sharing this.
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A++
Sometimes you soar to a different level. This was one of those times.
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What an expressive piece, Mel. It speaks.
I am always amazed at how similar experiences can affect different people in such radically different ways.
Thank you for sharing yours. Experience, that is.
Suzanne
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I’ve seen people in my family marry over and over again, only to be surprised that they have the same problems each time. It is so sad….
I think it is amazing how you have taken what life handed you, and have been able to see it for what it was. You have learned things from your heart breaking challenges that will certainly bless the lives of your your husband and your children….and many others when you write about it so well.
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Mel, this was amazing! I would love to see it printed out and handed to any couple with children who are contemplating divorce. It’s so powerful that I’m sure it would make many people rethink doing this to themselves and their kids. Thanks so much for your honesty… God bless… Debra
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I feel like this may make me look kinda bad, but hey, you may not even read it, being that this was several days ago. Where have I been?
Anyway, my parents were married for 20 years in total. They married each other b/c they were pregnant with me. My dad left us officially on my seventeenth birthday. I will be the first to admit that the break-up of my parents has scarred me for life. I will also be the first to say that it has only gotten worse. However, I will also be the first to say that I thank God that they did split up, and I think the worst thing they did in the whole 20 years of marriage was get married at all. Then, to stay together all of those years “for the kids” was worse than if they had split. I completely agree with you that at all costs a marriage should be remodeled and not demolished. I want my husband to read this and know this is how I feel, b/c we have our share of problems, and I want desperately to fix them up as opposed to divorce. However, some people were not meant to be together. There was no love b/t my parents, and they were terrible actors. My dad is the most selfish person on the face of the earth, and made no attempts to hide that fact ever. He left four children in his wake from two mothers, and we are all mentally messed-up now b/c of him. I do admit that I’m not fond of the new relationships that both of my parents have, b/c they insist that their spouses be involved in what’s b/t them and me. I don’t want that unless I ask for it. The new spouses are not my parents, and I have no desire to act as though they are. However, my life is so much better b/c my parents split, and happily, my mom found someone who truly loves her and whom she is totally happy with. My only wish is that they would have split sooner.
Nonetheless, I do see the validity in what you said, totally. I agree with it, and I, in a way, can understand what you went through. Definitely, from what you said, your parents should have stayed together and made it work. I do have to say, though, that happiness is a state of mind. Perhaps it’s not so much that they shouldn’t have wanted to be happy, but that they should have changed their definition of what made them happy. Once children are involved, happiness takes on a totally different meaning, and it’s completely external as opposed to the former internal happiness.
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mel — this was a heart-searing piece. you absolutely nailed it. someone who writes with such transparency is like a liberator for all of us who’ve experienced the same kind of pain. thank you so much. you are a superb writer.
barbara
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