The Key to a "Good" Divorce
By Heather DeMint
I walked up to my Grandma’s house not fully understanding what was going on behind me. An eight year old taking the same walk she had hundreds, thousands of times before, but somehow there was some kind of finality in this stroll. My three year old sister was ambling along behind, completely unaware of how are life was about to change dramatically. My mom and dad were splitting up and there was nothing she or I could do about it.
I know what you are thinking, but I assure you, this is not going to be a story crying about how my life was ruined because my parents couldn’t stick out a marriage. Neither the first eight years of my life, nor the 18 I have lived since were any worse than those of a child growing up in a happy, two-parent home. In fact, I think I am better off emerging from my childhood than many of those "normal" kids.
It all began in 1971, when my grandparents moved themselves and their 16 year old son from California back to a small, mid-Missouri town. Here he was, a boy in the midst of his teenage years, uprooted out of his normal life and living in Missouri. Luckily, although he was born in California, both his parents were from Missouri, his mother born just forty miles away. They already had a strong chain of family, friends and acquaintances in Missouri. He met many people and quickly formed a group of friends. Among some of those he met was a teenage girl, two years his junior. His mom and her mom worked together in the high school cafeteria and the two teenagers quickly fell in love. My mom was born and raised in this small Missouri town, so how daring it must have been to date a boy born and raised in California!! They married in January of 1974, four months before she graduated from high school.
Although many people probably thought they married because they had to, they were just young and in love and ready to begin their life together. I have never gotten a lot of details about my parents’ life together through the early years of their marriage. I like to think they were at least somewhat happy. They didn’t have a lot of money, my mom worked at a department store and my dad worked for my grandpa at the family-owned business. They lived in a single-wide mobile home on my grandparents land in the country. Two years later, nearly to the day, they celebrated the birth of their first child. On January 1, 1976, I came into their world.
I was the joy of my parents and both sets of grandparents. A couple of years after I was born, we moved into a much nicer double-wide and built a roomy two car garage where my parents would often entertain their close-knit group of friends. As soon as I could walk, I began going up to my grandma’s house and spending as much time. I was a happy child, no complaints.
My mom often told me I wouldn’t have a little sister or brother and it was going to be just me. This didn’t bother me a whole lot, although, it would be fun to have someone to play with and tease. Then, when I was five, my little sister came into my life. We had a happy time in our lives. My dad would often brag about his "tomboy’s" ability to throw a football and I would often stand at the top of my swing set slide and yell, "Wonder Woman!" My mom would stand in the door way to our house and playfully yell, "Motor Mouth!" I would many times pull my sister around the house in a little plastic wagon, taking the corners just a little too fast so she would topple out of the wagon. My sister and I were happy kids.
I’m not sure when my dad’s drinking got out of hand. As I look back, I see hints of it. Maybe that’s why my mom wasn’t planning a second child (we refer to my sister as a surprise, not an accident!) or maybe that’s why I would get sent up to my grandma’s sometimes. I’m really not sure. It wasn’t the typical (like you see on television) situation. My dad wasn’t physically abusive to anyone (that I could see) and he wasn’t verbally abusive to my sister or I. I just know that at some point, my mom had enough and made, probably, the biggest, most important decision of her life, she left. A woman, who had never been on her own, took an eight year old and a three year old and moved to town and rented a two bedroom bungalow. To me, this made my mom the strongest woman I have ever known. We struggled and cried. My mom spent many hours on the phone with my grandma (dad’s mom, they were very close) trying to tell herself it was the right decision. My father, after two hospital stays from the results of alcohol, quit drinking. He hasn’t drank in over 16 years and THAT makes him the strongest man I know.
It was tough, those first few years. There were some high points. I got to meet and play with neighborhood kids and even got to start playing ball in Little League. (This is something I would probably not have done living out in the country.) My mom was lonely. She met a man and remarried. She had a bigger house built for us all and after a few years, realized she had made a mistake and divorced him. We now had a much bigger house (which my mom had paid for herself) and we were all a little older and wiser. My dad was moving on, as well. He had a place of his own on my grandparents’ property. We visited every other weekend and one day during the week plus saw them whenever we wanted. At this point in life, my sister and I were old enough to stay by ourselves some, so my mom got a second job to help pay the way. I was in high school, playing every sport I could think of and meeting tons of people. My sister was a bright kid, growing up in her own way.
Jump ahead a few years. My paternal grandparents moved to town and are doing well. My maternal grandpa passed away in 1996, but my grandma lives with my Aunt and is doing fabulous. My dad, who bought half the family business from my grandparents, also lives in town in a nice three bedroom house. He has many hobbies and spends a lot of his time fishing and enjoying his life. After many years of thinking men were scum, my mom found her knight in shining armor and is remarried, living 40 miles from her hometown, in a glamorous house. She enjoys landscaping and her husband. Eight years ago, I began college on a softball scholarship. Although I gave college softball up, I graduated from the University of Missouri with a business degree. I live in my hometown with my wonderful husband and a wonderful job and play slow pitch softball competitively. I hope to start a family soon. My sister is a junior at the University of Missouri. She is a bright young woman still trying to find her niche in life. Don’t worry Sis, you still have time!
Divorce can be a very dramatic thing for all those involved. Husbands and wives should try to work out their differences as best they can. However, when you get to the point there is nothing left to do, just make yourself happy. The key to a good divorce is sincerity and consideration. My parents were open and honest with each other and my sister and I. They never bad-mouthed each other or tried to make each other’s life any more difficult than the situation naturally caused. They have always and will always be considerate to each other. For this I thank them.