I am a child of divorce. I wasn’t little when my parents divorced, so there was no custody fight, parenting plan, or alternating weekends. I was 40 years old. I can’t remember how I found out...whether it was by phone or in person...and I can’t remember which parent told me. The details aren’t important.

What I do remember was being a sophomore in high school. It was a Saturday night and my mom made a special dinner for the family...steak. After dinner, we all sat around watching TV, my brother and I oblivious to the bomb that was about to explode. I remember wanting to run away to my room, but I stayed sitting and tried to stop the tears from flowing.


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