Now What?! The great divide

Although I am a lover of words, until I took a bit of a deep dive into the word “divorce,” I had not really stopped to think of the Greek root, “Di.” So many words have been derived from this root, such as ‘dichotomy,’ ‘division,’ ‘dilemma,’ and ‘dissolve,’ to name a few. I chose those particular words because they all stem back to a divide or choice of some kind, which divorce arguably is.

As I have mentioned many times, I am divorced. But what I probably have not talked about is being the child of divorce.

My parents were divorced when I was less than two years old, so I don’t remember them being married. What I do remember is the respect that my mother had for our relationship with our biological father as well as keeping us connected with his side of the family, even when he did not.

My mother did not make things awkward for my sisters and me when it came to our paternal side of the family. We maintained a solid connection to our grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles even from states away. When my Papa was diagnosed with ALS (commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease), it was my mother who would drive us to New York to see him, knowing how much his granddaughters meant to him. I should also point out that my grandparents were not always kind to my mother during their marriage, however, she remained in contact for the good of her daughters. This was before email or text messages, so she had to have continual uncomfortable conversations with them to coordinate our summer or Christmas time visits.

This topic may seem a bit random, but here is why my brain has been hovering over the topic of divorce for a couple of weeks. My paternal grandmother’s sister, Aunt Betty, passed away a couple of weeks ago, and it brought so much gratitude to the surface.

When we visited our grandparents and extended family in upstate New York, their worlds stopped for the weeks that we were there. While I felt like a bit of an afterthought with my biological father’s life, this part of our family embraced my sisters and me with open arms as though we were a missing part of their lives for the other 48 weeks of the year. Aunt Betty made us feel connected to this part of our DNA and we felt as though we not only belonged but were coveted. She taught my mom how to bake cookies and what it was to be valued as a mother.

Although growing up and into my marriage, I did not realize this was a trait I would need, I did need it nevertheless. No one goes into their wedding day thinking of how their relationship with their future in-laws will be after the marriage is dissolved. From what I learned through my mother, you maintain and strengthen your relationship with your child’s family on the whole; not just your side. I am the first to admit that I did not always get along with my ex-husband’s family but they respect(ed) me as my son’s mother.

Divorce creates an invisible line, or divide if you will. Not just the separation of a marital bond, but the division of assets, dilemma of when your child should be with what parent, or the dichotomy of who maintains a relationship with whom.

The fact is, it all stinks. When children are involved, you have to suck it up, buttercup. Your ex’s family is still half of your child’s genetic make-up and history. It is imperative that I always let my son know how important both sides of his family are in his life and that I share stories from both as well.

I know my son and my ex-husband probably think it’s weird, but I don’t ever want my son to think it is taboo to speak about his father, his stepmother, or his father’s family around me. Likewise, I don’t ever want my niece and nephews through that side of the family to feel that I am any less the aunt that they have known their whole lives. Marriages split; families don’t have to.

Rest in peace, Aunt Betty. Thank you for the baked goods, my gorgeous cousins, the tight hugs, many exaggerated stories, and my dimples.