My Disappearing Family

September 25, 2017
By Anonymous

The family. It’s gone. My mother works, cleans, and makes sure my sister and I have everything we need everyday; my father just sits there and watches it all in action. I thought my parents were going to be together forever. Unfortunately, that changed when I was in 5th grade. I was about 11 years old, with little knowledge of how marriages work. Everyday seemed different. I got this feeling that something was wrong between my parents. They slowly started to skip “good mornings” and “good nights.” They didn’t talk much when they got home from work. If you talked to one of them one on one, both of them would seem upset like a certain thing was bothering them. Soon, it was to the point where they didn’t sleep with each other anymore. It was until that point that I asked, “what the heck is going on?” My mom blew it off which made it worse for me. I constantly worried about what it could be and the first thing that came to my mind was divorce. I thought to myself “no this really couldn’t be happening right now.” Day by day, it bothered me because I wanted to be in the know of whatever was happening and I could only think of the worst. After bugging both of them, one day my mom set me aside to talk without my five year old sister around. She seemed happy, so I was like okay maybe it isn’t bad news. The next thing she said was, “your father and I are getting a divorce.” I looked at her in disbelief, not knowing what to say. I didn’t do anything besides sit there and cry. I didn’t know what to do. Should I say something? Should I walk away? Should I scream? All those questions were going through my head. She then told me that she wasn’t going to tell my sister quite yet. I told her to leave me alone and that I would tell my sister. I really wasn’t going to, but I wanted to make her mad because she made me mad and upset too.

About a year after my mother filed for divorce, my father was still living at the same home as my family and I. I was really confused because I thought they had gotten a divorce, so they automatically split up and didn’t ever see eachother again. In my mind, I didn’t know the divorce process took so long. All I did was hope and pray that it was all a dream and nothing was true about any of it, or maybe something had changed.

As I grew older, my dad told me that my mother was the one who filed for divorce. He was the “good” guy and my mother was the “bad” guy. From then on, my mother and I had the worst relationship. I was very upset with her because she was the one who filed for the divorce and I didn’t understand why. I asked but no one told me. My father was the one who tried to fix everything but, it was too late. We got along because at that time, we both hated my mom for what she had done and put our so called family through. My father had always talked crap about her behind her back, to me. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I didn’t know whether to agree with him and talk crap too out of anger to make him feel even better, or should I tell him that it truly does bother me. For the first couple of months, my father and I criticized every action of hers. During this time, my father and I were also doing bible studies and morning and evening devotionals. My dad just did it to show my mom that he was willing to work things out through Christ but, this was the way my father and I bonded. I was confused on why he was teaching me all this Godly stuff, but basically turning around and turning to Satan for help to criticize my mother. One day, on the way to school, he was talking to me about my mom. Saying rude things about her and criticising actions she has made. I finally spoke up. Screamingly, I told him that it wasn’t right of him to talk about my own mother, to me. And better yet, talk about her to anyone because last I knew, you married her and were once in love with her. He shut up, told me I was right and that he was sorry, and never said a word to me about her again.


When the divorce was finalized, my dad moved out of the house, and I became the devil. I kicked and punched walls, doors, threw objects and was verbally abusive to everyone I saw or talked to. I was always so upset and sad that my nana was the only person who could calm me down. A couple years passed and I lived with my mom full time. As a result of that, we became best friends. I forgave her and finally had the guts to put myself in her shoes for once. When I was about fourteen years old, she told me the many reasons she filed for divorce. When she told me everything, I told her that I wouldn’t have done anything different and that she did the right thing even if it didn’t seem right in the moment.

I remember the day she told me she was interested in a guy, who wasn’t my father. For some reason, I couldn’t wrap that around my head. I was hurt and confused. I didn’t even want to meet him but, once I did I disliked him even more. Michael wasn’t the guy I expected my mom to be with. He was rude and selfish and didn’t help with anything. Looking back at it, my head was just trying to trick me into thinking those negative, untrue things about him because he wasn’t my father. I began to start liking him more and more as the time passed but, I still wasn’t sure about him. I had told my mom the concerns I had about him and their relationship. But, she didn’t budge or seem to care. So, as a result of that, I tried to stop caring as much and just let her be happy. Whatever that happy was.

My mom and Michael came back from a cruise in 2014 and the first thing I saw was a rock on her wedding finger. The first thing that came to mind was “oh hell no” and I reacted to it way too fast. I started crying, ran to my room, and when she came into my room I started screaming at her, cursing at her, and throwing objects. It took me awhile to realize that she has the right to do whatever made her happy. And that at the moment, was Michael. I got over it and just let it be because I wanted her happy, she deserved it. I started to become closer with Michael and he started to act more like a dad than my biological father. Surprising right? Ha, no.

At that moment, I actually wanted them to get married. I wanted them happy. So, as curious as I could be, I asked when the wedding was. “August 24th of 2017 on Mackinac Island” my mom said excitedly. Score!
My mom chose my sister and I to be her bridesmaids. It was a small wedding, that only consisted of about 40 people. But, it was the prettiest wedding ever. The Mackinac bridge was the scenic background. On that day, the sun shined strong like our love for one another as a family.

With my parents divorce and my mom getting together with another guy, and then getting married was tough on my sister and I. It all has taught me to walk in someone else’s shoes, or interpret things that could be happening in their life that caused that event to happen. It also taught me that living life without a father it possible, even though I thought it wasn’t.

The author's comments:

The way I have grown up from the time this significant impact happened, to now, has inspired me to write a memoir about what happened and my feelings during that time frame. 

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