They Take Their Cues from You

The year was 1997.  It was a typical February winter in Michigan.  My two children were with me.  My husband was miles away and asking for a divorce. 

I had lulled myself into a false sense of security, reasoning that as long as I was willing to make the marriage work, my husband would be, too.  He shocked me, though, just after Christmas when he told he had been miserable in our relationship for a long, long time.  He said he had lost his passion to forge ahead with it.  That he had done all the work while I had done nothing to promote its health and welfare.  That it was no longer worth pursuing.  That he would be better off alone.  Wow. 

After ten and a half years of marriage, it was over.  I felt powerless.  Devastated.  Lost.  Betrayed.  Nauseous.  Worthless.  I looked at my children and mourned over the reality that they would join the statistics of kids raised in single-parent homes.  I fretted over how I would do it.  How could I possibly play the part of both mom and dad while keeping a roof over their heads, shoes on their feet, and food in their tummies?  I assumed the worst. 

The tears were unpredictable, coming in torrents at the worst times, while I sought the slightest glimpse of light in our future. 

Mom suggested we all go to McDonalds.  OK.  That seemed weird.  She said the kids could play while she, Dad, and I talked. 

OK, I could do that.  It would give me a chance to unload some of my grief while Amber and Jason occupied themselves with plastic balls, rubber mats, and French fries. 

Mom let me lament for awhile about how terrible my life was before she interrupted.  “Annamarie, you have to get a hold of yourself.” 

Huh?  My marriage was coming to an end, and my mom was telling me to get a grip? 

“They take their cues from you,” she said.  “You worry that your kids won’t make it.  They won’t if you believe it.  You worry that you won’t be able to move on with your life.  You won’t with that attitude.

“If you show your kids that you can rise above all this, they will follow suit.  They will be OK as long as you are.” 

Mom was right.  My kids are now ages 24 and 20 and my greatest blessings in life.  They understand what happened between their dad and me and, although they don’t like it, they know it wasn’t their fault.  They have learned to grieve it while not letting it consume their lives.  They are productive, loving, self-sustaining, and considerate.  I hope I have passed on lessons to them that they will one day find worthy of chronicling in a blog!  Or whatever form of communication we have after I’ve passed to the other side.