Last updated on August 7, 2023
When I was a child, divorce was not a super common occurrence. My parents were one of the first and it was kind of messy for a few years. This memory is the first where I can feel helpless and angry, and a little betrayed. As an adult who has gone through a divorce, I can see the wisdom in the decision now. I have long forgiven both my parents and while I still harbor needy/clingy emotions from the whole experience, all in all being a kid of divorced parents is far better than being a kid of parents who were spiraling out of control.
This recollection is how I remember it, and may not be one hundred percent accurate as I was nine years old when it took place. The emotions and feelings I will talk about are of my nine-year-old self and not the forty-four-year-old self. I adore my mother and miss my father terribly (he passed in 1996).
MomLady took us out of school early, which is a treat in itself. I hated riding the bus and was constantly bullied on the school bus. You see, at nine years old I was five feet tall, with breasts, and weighed that of an adult. She takes us to Dairy Queen on Hanna Avenue and we get to pick whatever we want. Going to Dairy Queen was a rare thing and I remember being really excited, like she was about to tell us we were going to Disney again.
We eat our ice cream and clean up. I don’t remember how she started it, but I remember her being on the verge of tears. When she finished I flew off the handle. I stormed off to the bathroom and flung myself about. I cried and I was mad. I don’t remember how my sister took it, but she was much calmer about it, I’m sure.
Even as I write this I feel the tears welling because it was that traumatic. My dad was my world and I was convinced she was leaving him because he wouldn’t do the laundry. They had had a fight about it pretty close to when she told us. Looking back, I’m willing to bet that fight was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I hated MomLady for at least three years. My deep-rooted hatred of the color purple comes from this era, I’m sure. It was her favorite color. We fought about everything, and I do mean everything. Right down to taking a shower, which resulted in me taking a shower with a swimsuit on.
We also went into therapy, where I felt so smug that the therapist told her she had to let me scream and hit my pillow. She endured more abuse on my part than I can believe. I was angry and absolutely refused to let her move on. I wanted my parents back together.
Now, let’s talk about my dad. My mother was his fifth wife and was only eleven months older than my eldest half-brother. My dad started having kids when he was sixteen, and was born in 1938. When he met my mother he was with my other half-brother Harvey Jr., after his mother committed suicide, and my mother was only about elven or twelve years older than him. Yeah, probably should explain that my dad was a drummer and chicks dug him!
Okay, enough genealogy!
My parents separate. My dad gets a girlfriend (see post about religion). He goes through a few and he starts dating a woman named Sherry (Sherri? Hell, I don’t know) and she had two daughters and collie. It really upset me that he was moving her girls in and their stuff, but shoving our stuff aside. I already hated that he was dating anyone. My mother encourages me to confront him by writing down all my feelings.
Do you know what he did? He did what any other toxic old man did at the time, and told me I was stupid for feeling the way I did and I didn’t have the right to feel that way. I hated my mother for doing that to me. Yes, I know my dad was in the wrong, but that took a decade and age to understand that. We’re talking like 1987 here.
So, with that result my sister and I become the Devil’s spawn for real. Think “The Parent Trap” kind of stuff.
In the end, my parents became best friends again, and we all co-existed in two households until my father died when I turned eighteen.
Anyway, there you have it. Dairy Queen brings up all these weird memories for me and while I go to DQ, good luck getting me to the one on Hanna Avenue anytime soon.