Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

A Turning Point

By Carver

As everything unraveled on a 25-year marriage and my husband moved out

of

the only home our daughter had ever known, I felt huge relief our only child

was

20 at that time - it made everything simpler. Or so I thought. Because she

wasn't a minor, I didn't have to negotiate about custody and child support,

didn't have to put up with his coming around to see her, didn't have to try

to

explain the inexplicable to a young child. Mostly, though, I was relieved

because I thought it would be less complicated emotionally for her at that

age.

She was away at college, a young adult, not subject to the day-to-day

difficulties or emotional turmoil of her parents being in two households.

In an attempt to ensure that my crushing hurt did not affect their

relationship, I had said to my daughter and her dad that the nature and

quality

of their relationship from that point on would be up to them. I would not

interfere, but neither would I facilitate. I tried to be glad when I saw

his

phone number on the phone bill from her college dorm; but I'll confess that

on

more than one occasion in those early days I slipped into revenge fantasies,

wishing with more than a little shame that I could be one of 'those'

divorced

parents who use their children to 'get at' an ex-spouse. My anger waned in

intensity over the following months, but on occasion glowed white hot,

briefly

and unexpectedly, for reasons that still elude me. At those times, I

exercised

that remarkable ability so many women have to feign: pleasantness and

serenity

while simultaneously holding down an ugly knot of hurt and anger that

clamored

for attention the way curdled milk waits to erupt from a soured stomach.

I observed my daughter's next few years mostly from afar as she

concentrated on her studies, became active in a sorority, made new friends,

played on her university's tennis team, enjoyed snow-skiing, camping,

boating

and beach trips with friends, and fell in and out of love. I naturally

wondered

at times what impact the end of her parents' 25-year marriage might have on

her.

From what I could see, my daughter's strong spirit, sense of independence,

self-

confidence, good humor and zest for life were serving her well. After a

while,

I even congratulated myself on our having handled things in a way that had

left

her relatively unscathed.

Reality hit hard one evening during her Christmas vacation six months

before she was to graduate from college. That's when my daughter taught me

an

important lesson - children whose parents divorce are forever changed,

regardless of their age or life situation when the split happens. Sitting

at

the dinner table that night in my new house, which still didn't feel like

home

to either of us, she hesitantly told me she was dreading her college

graduation.

" All my friends' families will be coming, and there are dinners and

receptions all weekend, " she said, putting her elbows on the table her

father

had sanded and stained when she was a little girl. " And every time you see

or

talk about Dad, you cry and feel sad. I can't tell one of you not to come.

You're my parents. It makes me not want to go through graduation. "

I felt as though I'd been hit with something big and hard.

I couldn't breathe. And then tears - those damn tears ? began to

course

down my cheeks and drip onto my chest. I felt hot, and the light over the

table

seemed to spin and flash as I struggled for composure. I was stunned and

stung

- stunned to discover that my involuntary tears had cut so deeply into her

life

and soul; stung that my hanging on to sadness and a sense of loss were

responsible for her wanting to skip an important milestone in her life. I

didn't believe for a second she really would miss the festivities, but to

know

she saw my continued grieving as an inevitable dark cloud over her

graduation

weekend was devastating.

I've always believed that actions follow thoughts. Now would come a

test

of that belief. " I know it wasn't easy to say that, " I managed to mutter.

After a pause and a big sigh I continued, with a note of determination in my

voice that I didn't feel. " It's six months until graduation. You know both

your dad and I love you and want your graduation and all your special

moments in

life to be unmarred by what's gone on between us. I promise you that on

your

graduation weekend, you don't have to worry about my crying. We'll be

fine. "

And we were. Tears did fall that day, but they were shared with my ex-

husband as we stood arm in arm watching the daughter we'd raised walk across

the

stage to accept her diploma. He even carried an extra handkerchief for me,

as

he had all those years we were married. That's when I knew my choice to

spend

time with him during the months after her sad dinner table confrontation had

been worthwhile. By " practicing " being cordial and friendly, by sharing

everyday conversation and meals, by saying why I was doing this, I had moved

beyond the automatic response of tears. I think we actually ended up

enjoying

ourselves; and it wasn't long before I realized that forgiveness had crept

into

my heart, softening that hard knot of anger and hurt.

It was a turning point - not only for the three of us but for our

extended

family and friends as well. Now my sister and mother and friends could once

again be friendly without feeling disloyal to me. The cordiality and

friendliness we felt that spring has continued in the years since, making

subsequent visits with our daughter more enjoyable for everyone. And now

we're

all immersed in planning another milestone - our daughter's wedding. In the

fall, my ex-husband and I will sit side by side once again, on the front pew

in

the church this time, perhaps sharing a handkerchief once more.

A beloved teacher once said to me, " Forgiving may help the forgiver

more

than the forgiven. " She was right.