If you are the product of a divorce like me, did you ever dream of your parents getting back together? I never had that fantasy. I just sort of accepted the situation for what it was and dealt with the new circumstances.
However, I did wish my parents could at least talk to each other. For the first few months after the split they did. Sort of. My dad would come get me at my mom’s house for his weekend visitations. Things were always tense between my parents, but then things just got downright nasty.
TNT
I don’t know what sparked it but eventually there was screaming, yelling, name calling, and in general lots of combustible commotion whenever they were in the same vicinity. Yes, in front of me. (Although I was ordered inside and that was one command I never disobeyed. I’d run right to my room with Mackie in tow and we’d hide out until the dust settled.)
The Drop Offs
Soon after that the “drop offs” began. My mom would take me, Mackie, and my suitcase to a designated parking lot, leave me there, peel out, and a short time later my dad would swoop in and pick me up. Sounds awful now, but back then I pretended I was a spy on a secret mission. It was sort of exciting.
Anyway, that was back in 1980. It wasn’t long before my parents figured out how to rope my sister into taking me to and from houses. (Once they figured out a way not to talk and to avoid each other like the plague, they did.) It was for the best. My sister and I often half-joked how World War III might very well break out if they were allowed to mix.
The Occasional Truce
However, there have been times when they’ve laid down their swords.
My high school graduation was one. It was held at the now deceased McNichols Arena, which held about 17,000 people. That gave them a chance to put enough seats between them. (Which they did. I’m not sure they even saw each other there.)
When Wayne and I married, they both sucked it up to attend then too. We were all worried about how to navigate the rehearsal dinner, but each sat at opposite ends and no knives were put by either’s plate. They also behaved during the actual ceremony, and after at the dinner.
When my book was published I threw a big party and both flew in to attend. I knew my mom was coming, but my dad surprised me. He didn’t stay at the house with us, but he did drop by. My mom, dad, aunt, and I all sat around our living room for about an hour visiting the night before the big event. That was the first time my parents had spent that much time together in such close quarters since the divorce. (But they didn’t talk. I talked to my dad and aunt and mom, and my aunt spoke to my mom, but my mom and dad barely even looked at one another.)
When Wayne’s dad died six years ago, they both paid their respects by showing up to the funeral. (Though my mom opted not to go to the reception so as to avoid my dad. Still, at least she made it to the services.)
The Ride
However, even though my parents were in the same general area those other times, the only time I remember them speaking was when my dad said something to my mom at the book party. (I think they might have said “hello” to each other the night before, but he made a comment about how proud they both should be of me at the actual party. She agreed. That set a record for most nice words exchanged in 20 years.)
Even after all those years they still detested each other.
Except, when I had to fly home to help with my mom last month, there was my dad to pick me up at the airport and drop me at my mom’s. When things between my sister and I fell apart, my dad offered to take both my mom and I to the airport the day our flight left out.
With much reservation I asked my mom how she felt about that.
“Just accept. He’s been so kind.”
I couldn’t believe it. I think I was more nervous about the prospect of them riding in a car together than they were!
Prayer Cards and Thank You Notes
As it turned out, my sister ended up taking us to the airport after all. However, my dad made one more gesture of kindness. He sent my mom a prayer card.
My mom was so grateful, she sent him a thank you note. And she didn’t just find one with a pre-printed, “Thank You” that she signed her name to. She actually took the time to write my dad a nice thank you note.
So after all these years, a dream of mine has come true. My parents found a way to forgive each other and make peace after all. Sucks that it took my mom getting dementia and cancer to do it, but hey. I’ll take what I can get!
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