This is a very personal post.  Frankly, I’m only writing this because I think it will be therapeutic.  I’m doing it here rather than in a private journal, because for some reason this is the only place I can, or do write.  I don’t have a journal, and I never have had one.  It is what it is.

I have a cousin who is getting a divorce.  Last I checked this kind of thing happens to about 50% of married couples in the U.S., so this doesn’t qualify as big news.  Still, to me it is very painful to be in the front row watching it happen.

You see I experienced divorce as a kid, back when it was very uncommon to have a single mom.  I’m pretty sure I was the only one in my 5th grade class to have divorced parents.  Of course by 10th grade (1982) I was far from alone.

Funny thing is, the prevalence of divorce doesn’t diminish its impact on the individual or the family.  I still grapple with my parents’ divorce today.  I’m 38.  They’ve been divorced for 30 years.  I can’t imagine them married.  It sticks with me because I still have questions:

• How could my Dad move away (about a 3 hour drive) and see me and my brother on weekends initially about once a month and eventually alot less?  This question was almost rhetorical until I had my own kids, then it became unimaginable.
• Would I still be a Mormon if my parents stayed together?  As it happens I’ve been a utility infielder when it comes to religion, having tried out every Protestant branch until I eventually converted to Catholicism.  And let’s just say that the church’s treatment of my parents when they were going through the divorce made me question the true meaning of Christianity at a very early age.
• How did my Mom do it?  How did she shepherd two boys through their teenage years, then through college and eventually into independent, happy adulthoods?
• Would I be happy now if they had stayed married "for the kids", or would I be a maladjusted heroin addict living on the streets of DC?
• Would I have worked so hard with my wife five years ago to save our marriage if my parents hadn’t gotten a divorce?

That last is the million dollar question.  Five years ago Celeste (my wife) and I were at the nadir of our marriage.  We had lost all respect for each other, had lost sight of the traits that we’d so admired in each other and talked only when it involved household business or the kids.  It got so bad that we talked to lawyers and I found an affordable apartment.  I was a week away from moving out.

But then Celeste asked the real million dollar questions (she is definitely the smart one in this house).  She asked, "Have we really TRIED to fix this?  Have we really tried everything we can to save our marriage?" The answer was a resounding "no."

I’m a typical guy.  The idea of asking anyone for help makes me want to puke.  For years Celeste had asked me to participate in marriage support groups at our church.  For years I said that kind of stuff was for New Age crystal-gazers.  Now we were looking at marriage counseling and I was ready to run for the hills.

My motivation came when I looked at our kids.  At the time they were six, five and three.  If I left, even with joint custody, I thought I’d be doing the one thing I swore I’d never do.  I would rather gaze at a thousand crystals, wear Birkenstocks and attend seances before I putting myself in the position of being a part-time Dad.  I didn’t want to be to my kids who my Dad was to me.  Whatever we did, I wanted to have no reason to say "We shoulda.."

Marriage counseling it would be.

And I give myself credit for going.  It was a big step for me.  The rest of the credit goes to Celeste, to a wonderful counselor and to a very supportive family.  Through their efforts I was able to recognize my own flaws and try to fix them; to rediscover all of Celeste’s fantastic traits and to recognize how insignificant her own flaws were in the grand scheme of things.  Basically we fell back in love.

Watching my cousin and his wife struggle through this I can’t help but think of my own experiences.  My opinion is that they haven’t tried everything yet, and I don’t think they will.  I’ve shared my story with my cousin, but I don’t think it matters.  He’s moved out.  They’re looking for lawyers and talking about how to work out the property distribution.  It isn’t too late, but it’s close.

And yes there are kids involved;  they aren’t biologically his, but he is the only father they’ve ever really known.  I’m pretty certain his wife is keeping the kids top of mind, but I’m not so sure about him.  If he were to distance himself, that would be the biggest tragedy, for him and for them.

My instinct is to feel disappointment that he hasn’t tried everything.  His wife wants to try counseling, either individually or as a couple.  He’ll have none of it.  Knowing that he and I are cut from a similar cloth I understand his aversion to therapy, but I pity his lack of courage.

That is until I remember my own cowardice.  It’s been at least seven years since I realized how deeply my Dad’s leaving affected me.  For all that time I’ve wanted to ask him "Why?" and "How?", but I’ve never had the balls. 

For my cousin’s sake and mine I hope we both grow some soon.