This is Us

This is Us

This is us.  This is our truth. We are a family.

It’s been just about three years since Andy and I decided “not to live together as a married couple”.  That is what we said when we sat together as a family and told the kids six months later.  

And, it was true.  A lot is true.  

But kids never need the whole truth, or all the details. In fact they usually need a whole lot less than we habitually give them for most situations. That is probably the best advice I ever received in the process of uncoupling my marriage.  My dear friend, Lee, doled it out to me one morning as we ate breakfast together at a beachside cafe in Jaco, Costa Rica. I sat across from her, and attempted to digest the events of my life that led to the decision for Andy and I to divorce, and then carefully regurgitated them on paper to preemptively release everything I was not to say to the kids. 

Next step, write the script of what to say. 

The memory of the moment my father left our family when I was ten years old leapt forward in my thoughts and I was conscious of what the script would not be.    

“We are still a family,” I wrote.  

Truth

“And also, things will look differently.” I continued to write as Lee and I discussed all the ways life would be different for my kids.

Truth

“Then give them the how,” Lee told me.  They will want to know how their life will change, how it will stay the same. That’s what they’ll need.” 

Truth

The fresh ocean breeze brushed my back as we sat on the outdoor patio, feet from the sand and water.  Visiting Lee and her family in Costa Rica gifted me with time away from life’s regular routine to collect my thoughts.  I felt especially grateful for her compassionately direct approach to difficult situations in my life.  I have always admired her views, her parenting, who she is, and how she lives her life.  She exuded practicality with unconditional love and no drama.  Exactly what Andy and I would need to embody when sharing our decision with the kids. 

“You love them. That’s it. They will ask questions.  Answer those.” I knew she was right and that the words I wrote on the paper were more for my inner child, than my children.   

“And by the way,” she said “you have already prepared them for this.”  

Tears. And probably true.  

Nearly three years later, we are still defining our version of family, creating it as we grow.   Our society has no representation of a “divorced family” or a family whose parents are divorced that we can use as a model.   The word “divorce” conjures up trauma and is associated with lack of family or the “break-up of the family”, even a “broken home”.  Divorce means “to separate or dissociate something from something else.” 

Not always true.

At least, not in our case.  Yes, we experienced a “legal dissolution of marriage,”  and our kids live in two homes.  But we did not dissociate the way that many do, the way that is expected.  When I tell people that we share family dinners, vacation time, and holidays, I get raised eyebrows, looks of curiosity or sometimes awe and admiration.

The over-culture had nothing to offer me in preparing my children for the change in our family structure.  There is no accepted narrative of divorce as something done with love, holding children and the couple through the transition with connection.  Certainly the narrative in my own family of origin was not one of divorce with unconditional love and acceptance. And so, as Andy and I prepared to tell our children what was to come, we also had to create it, define it and seek it ourselves, mostly from somewhere inside of us.  

Andy and I are family.  And with our kids and extended family, we will always be a family. We share meals, time with grandparents, aunties and uncles, cousins, and precious time with our kids. We share moments, memories, a past, a present and a future.  What makes a family is not a certificate from a church, or a civil document or even a shared dwelling.  It is our love and connection, time together and commitment to the truth of who we each are as humans.  It is dinners that include laughing, sometimes crying and an occasional heated discussion.  It is knowing each other, supporting and encouraging each other – with words and actions.  It is repair and forgiveness when we have made a mistake. 

 

This is us. This is our truth. We are family. 

 

A question I carry in my heart is, how do we normalize the changes that occur in people and relationships over time and model these shifts with grace and love, even when they are hard, confusing, or unwished for?  One way is to expand the idea of family, to include one like ours, whose parents are divorced, but love each other, who get along and are consciously raising their kids together.  Perhaps we need to see more families like ours so that the belief about what it can be expands in the collective consciousness.  

Above all else, I want the script I live out to demonstrate to my children that while nothing will stay the same forever, being true to yourself and supporting the truth of others, with love, is life’s greatest quest.  

In this beautiful family photo, we are sharing memories of my dad and the family tradition of carving pumpkins in his honor.  We are sharing laughter and tears, grief and loss, love and joy, for my dad, for the family we were, for the one we are and for the one we continue to become. 

 

This, is us.