Children of divorced parents always want one thing: for their parents to stop fighting, make up and get back together.
My parents did just that. They’ll celebrate their “second” 10th anniversary this June.
This is the part where you would expect me to talk about how wonderful it is that my parents were able to solve their problems and reignite their love for each other. Because that’s how the story is supposed to go, right? There’s an entire industry in this country devoted to celebrating the joining of two people into a sacred bond. I remember standing in my backyard with all of my friends and family as my parents were married again. I remember the cake that said “Been there, done that and doing it again.” I remember how happy everyone looked as my parents said those vows. Even though it was their second time saying them, the magic wasn’t lost.
My life is full of memories like this. My parents have had some great moments. I’m talking reach for the moon, World Series kind of stuff. But those aren’t the moments that stick out. I remember my dad crying when he finally moved out. I had never seen him cry before. I remember the cops coming one night when the fighting got so bad. I remember my dad leaving several times when he just couldn’t take the yelling anymore. I remember the place filled with toys that my parents took my brother and I to every week. I later learned that it was a therapist’s office. I remember calling my mom from my dad’s house telling her I wanted to come home because this new house, this new bed, just didn’t feel right.
But all those moments were PSD (Pre Second Marriage). Their remarriage wasn’t just a second chance for them. It was a second chance for us to be a family. Things would be different and better, I told myself.
Now that I’m post-college and living at home full-time again, I can’t help but wonder: Why did they ever get back together?
Disclaimer: I love my parents and I know they love each other, but in marriage, is love ever enough? Whether they’re arguing about the temperature of the thermostat of my mom’s nagging or my dad’s indifference, it seems that our house is never quiet. I roll my eyes at dinner and tell them to stop arguing. Granted, this isn’t pre-divorce arguing. There are no cops or crying; just incessant bickering. And maybe that’s just what happens after two people have been together so long. But there are other times. Like when I’m in the car with my mom and she talks about how my dad never wants to do anything, whether it be take a walk or go to the movies. I know she doesn’t want it to sound like a big deal, but it’s difficult not to notice the tinge of sadness in her voice. It’s tough not to notice how quickly my dad becomes annoyed with my mom. When I tell my mom the fighting is driving me crazy she says, “That’s not fighting. If you think that’s fighting…” her voice trails off. Maybe she’s remembering the night the cops came too.
People across the country are constantly preaching about the evils of divorce. People give up too easily or jump into marriage too quickly, critics say. When a couple of my mom’s co-workers went through divorces, she said something along the lines of, “If young married people knew what I know now …. you can’t just give up.”
It isn’t easy being a child of divorce. But sometimes it’s even tougher being a child of remarriage. When you tell people how your parents’ divorce fucked you up for life, they sympathize or at least pretend to. But telling people you’re parents’ remarriage made you just as jaded … well that’s another story.
