It's so late and I'm exhausted, but I'm really trying very hard to keep up on my blog this time around. So here I am, at two in the morning, writing.
My Dad just left about an hour ago. We had a wonderful night. I had made a huge dinner- chicken enchiladas,
Spanish rice, and my special
refried beans- and I'd made a little too much. So I told my Dad that he could come over and get some when he was done with his Rotary meeting. It turned out to be an all night event.
When he got here I still had my
iPod going from making dinner. I was on a country kick tonight and have been telling my Dad for ages that I was going to introduce him to some good country. So after I made him a plate, we sat at the table listening to various country songs. Somehow after almost an hour of country, we switched to Michael Jackson; one of Dad's favorites. This resulted in our old past time of dancing in the kitchen...back in the days when we were still a whole family.
Divorce is a terrible thing. I sort of always knew that my parents would end up apart, but at the same time, I never really thought it would happen. I know that doesn't make much sense. I suppose that even though they fought all the time while we were growing up, I always secretly believed that they would be able to make it work. In so many ways they were such a good couple. They just got lost somewhere along the way of marriage, sucked into a terrible pattern of screaming and yelling at each other; often over stupid, insignificant things.
The first time they
separated, I was in the seventh grade. I vaguely remember that time in my life. I suppose I've blocked most of it out. Not that
anything particularly horrible happened, it was just so hard for me to have my Dad leave the house. I
didn't recognize it at the time, but it greatly affected me. My grades
plummeted and I just remember being really sad. I was so happy when they got back together.
Unfortunately, patterns always tend to repeat themselves and eventually their marriage was just as bad as before the
separation. They stayed together until November of my senior year of high school. They were
separated for almost a year before the divorce was final...on my Dad's birthday. My Dad tried so hard to fix things and get my mother back, but by the time they
separated, it was too late.
My Dad still tries.
Tonight was bittersweet.
For a few sweet hours, it seemed almost as if history had been erased. Everyone was at home just like the good
ol' days and everyone was getting along. Dad and I danced disco in the kitchen, one of our old traditions, and it was nothing short of wonderful. Spinning around and around in his arms, watching the cabinets whirl past me in a blur of happy memories. We danced and sang and laughed and danced some more. When we tired of dancing, we all moved into the Living room and had one of our "family talent nights" just like we used to.
Margarita was over for dinner as well, and my mom wanted to show off all of our talents so the kids all played the piano, I sang, Jessica sang a little bit, and
Alex and David did a spur of the moment hilarious duet from
Seussical the Musical. Then the kids talked Dad into disco dancing again and he took both Jessie and I into his arms and spun us all around the living room. Mom even got up and danced when we were done. It was wonderful and so, so
painful at the same time.
I was
surprised to find myself filled with a hope I thought I had gotten over already. I
suppose that even though I know my
parents are better off without each other, it's still hard not to
desperately want them to somehow make things work. I guess that's just part of how divorce works. My parents are both incredible
people, they just don't work together very well when they're married.
I wish, so
fiercely, that it could be different. I think they both do too. It's sad, having such an incredible family torn apart.
Watching my Dad tonight was hard. Seeing the pain amidst the joy in his eyes at being with his family, but knowing that at some
point, he would have to return to his apartment. I imagine it would be something like a little kid at Christmas getting everything he ever wanted, and having to walk away from it all.
It's so hard. Almost too hard to write about. Even though I'm a pretty strong person, I've still been greatly affected by the whole situation. I try to be tough and act like
everything's OK. I know I NEED to be tough, not for myself but for my family.
I am so grateful for the magical time we shared tonight. I love my family so much. And I kept it together remarkably well all evening, but now that I'm off to bed; I think it's going to be the first night in a long time, that I will have to fight valiantly not to cry myself to sleep.
