Divorce Through A Child’s Eyes

My parents were married for over 60 years and passed away married. So, do I have first hand experience as the child of divorce?

Maybe not but I do know how a child feels when a parent leaves. I do know the fear that nothing will ever be the same.

There was a time in my life when my parents were struggling with their marriage. I think I was about nine or ten.This is what I remember:I heard them arguing a lot. Shortly after my dad left for work, I would go to school. My mom would wait for me to come home with a homemade something and a hug and kiss.

When I came home one day, something was different. I went to my parents’ bedroom and looked into the closet. My dad’s clothes were gone. His dresser had been emptied. I remember a hollow feeling and asked my mom where his things were. She advised me that he had moved out for a while. She said that she and my dad were having problems and that I shouldn’t worry.  I did worry.

My dad and I weren’t very close but he was still my dad and I loved him. I felt very sad. I felt like something had broken. I guess I felt like our family had broken. I didn’t understand.

The next memory I had was an evening when my older brother was supposed to be sitting for me. My mom had gone out with friends. My brother didn’t do as directed and he went out also.

My dog and I were alone in the house. I was a little afraid. Well, maybe I was a lot afraid.

As it began to get dark, I heard something. I remember the sound of the front door opening against the chain. I remember that I hid in a closet with my dog. I had recently learned about rape. I was terrified that I might be raped.

Then I heard the person trying to open the windows. Thankfully, they were locked. Next, I listened as the kitchen door opened against the chain. I hoped the intruder would give up and leave.

I could hear my own heart beating. I took clothing off of the hangers as quietly as I could and put them on top of my dog and me.

Next, the unthinkable happened. I heard a window open. It sounded like the kitchen window over the sink. I heard the intruder climb in the window and it sounded like he stepped into the sink. I remember thinking that my dog would give away my hiding place if I kept her with me so I let her go. I heard the intruder jump down to the floor and then I heard my dog’s nails on the kitchen floor.

I remember praying. “Please God, don’t let me be raped. Don’t let him find me. Don’t let him hurt my dog. Don’t let her show him where I am hiding.”  As usual, He answered my prayers.

What I heard next was my father’s voice, “Hi Dusky! Are you all alone? I came to bring Claudia’s allowance. Did you miss me girl?”

I remember how relieved I felt. I remember the feeling of warm tears rolling down my cheeks as I ran toward the kitchen, toward my father. It wasn’t someone who was going to rape me. It was my dad… It was my dad.

As I entered the kitchen in tears, I ran to my dad and threw my arms around his waist. I cried, “Daddy, Daddy, it’s you. I was so afraid.” What happened next was the reason that I am writing this post.

There was no response from my dad. He didn’t hug me back. He didn’t ask me what was wrong or why I was afraid and crying. I remember hugging him harder and harder, hoping that he would hug me back but still there was no response. It was as though I was hugging a tree trunk and not a person.  Then he said it. “This is your fault. You are the reason she made me leave.”

I didn’t understand why he said that. I started to cry again uncontrollably. My mom came home sometime later. I remember running to her. It was a repeat of how I ran to my dad earlier except for one thing. As I wrapped my arms around my mom, she wrapped her arms around me. She held me tightly. I told her that he said it was my fault.

I remember that she stepped back, looked into my eyes and said, “This is not your fault. Your dad and I have problems. They are our problems, not yours. We both love you.”  I wasn’t sure about that.

I still didn’t really understand but I remember feeling safe. I remember feeling confident that she loved me…really loved me. I remember feeling like everything would be okay. She would make everything okay. My mom would make everything okay like she always did.

To be continued…

Photo: Pink Sherbet Photography