After three years I finally let go of my anger toward Mom and was able to move on.I got married this past summer, and I'd like to believe I'm going to be one of the lucky ones.
Of course, Mom and Dad didn't have a perfect marriage. When they made it past their 27th wedding anniversary, I assumed they were thinking about retiring, not about splitting up. On their own for the first time in 27 years, Mom and Dad needed guidance.
My life suddenly seemed a series of "lasts"—a final Christmas, an end to eggs together at the breakfast table. Many of our parents stayed together because we'd be more mature once we headed off to college, walked down the aisle, or had our first baby. My younger sister taught Dad how to cook a red sauce.
Nothing tested me more in my adult life than my parents' divorce. I had moved out of my childhood home to attend college several years before.
I can say that now without feeling embarrassed or weak. I had a great job, close friends, a relationship—all of the things that should make you feel rooted.
We're having a nice day, despite the fact that Dad is still refusing to sign the divorce papers. I can't reminisce about my childhood or say anything about Dad. But the anger traded between us during the past few years simmers below the surface.