A Shattering Of Stability

Last Friday, my mom called me at work.

“Do you want the piano?”, she asked.

“Sure”. She must have detected the curious hesitation in my voice.

“We’re going to be moving soon”, she furthered. There was never even a hint of moving before, so I had to ask.

“Separately?”

“Yup.”

This is how I find out my parents are getting divorced.

My immediate feeling was that of resigned sadness, and a growing resentment as a result of this sadness. I wished that they couldn’t affect me like this, that they meant nothing to me, but in the pit of my stomach, I know that they do.

It’s like wondering if you’ll cry when your grandmother dies, never believing that you will.

Until it happens.

I should have seen it coming. A few weeks ago, she called to inform me that she was putting funds in my investment account, so that she would have an accessible cache of emergency funds in case my dad ever left her. Like insurance, it’s another thing to have just in case, hoping never to need it. Even in my early childhood, there were memories I’ve tried to block out. Bloody gashes, divorce scares, pleading for us to stay together. All I ever wanted from them was a normal family.

Thumbnail: Parents 1

Thumbnail: Parents 2

Lately, even in the last few years, everything seemed to be going well. The last time I visited, they were doing things together. Dancing. Eating. There was even talk of buying a new car. Now the realization is setting in. That was the last time I’ll have seen them together. Married. As husband and wife. I took a picture of them that weekend, when we went out for dim sum. My dad was ordering food from the menu, and my mom was pouring him tea, arms crossed over his. It’s the last time I’ll see them together like this, and the only picture I have of them.

I don’t even want to think of what the annual family gatherings are going to be like, or how I’m going to visit them, individually, during the holidays. How I’m going to react if I find out they’re dating again.

All I can say now is that I’m disappointed.

5 comments

  1. Welcome to life!
    I went thru 2 divorces..
    the first from my real father, when i was 5..after the date in divorce court, he took off, and dissapeared for 10 yrs.

    The second was when I was 23.
    From my step-father of 12 yrs..
    I was right smack in the midle.
    My mom didn’t want him to know WHERE she was, so messages were passed thru me.
    OH the JOY of it!

    Just be ‘happy’ that this didn’t happen while you were still living there as a teen.
    It’s a loss, one that must be grieved.
    LOVE the photo you took though
    I love the way you look at the world, as reflected in your photos
    you have an artists soul

    cheers, and (hugs) if ya need them.
    Amy

  2. The same happened to me, only much earlier in my life (I was 9). Different perspective, but some of the same understanding. I don’t know what else to say, but I had to comment.

  3. You’re right, I’m lucky to be going through this when I’m independent. Things would have been much worse if they went through it during elementary school.

    I find that there are two types of people whose parents divorced when they were young. Those who didn’t know any better and grew up believing that it was normal, and those who grew up knowing exactly what was happening. I was the latter, and it wouldn’t have been good.

    Thanks for the support.

  4. that is tough. even when you’re older, it’s like having your ideal of romantic stability absolutely smashed into a million pieces. but i guess that’s the way family matters work out in life. i’m actually more sorry that you had to find out about it that way. *hugs*

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