Oh, the irony.
“I’m so jealous of all my friends getting married”.
“I really want to live with my partner”
The bombshell hits.
“I’m leaving your father”
After more than 30 years of marriage, my mother decides to walk out. My father says nothing to stop her.
All things happen for good, he says. Romans 8 v. 28.
But I’m seething with rage. Rage because of the way in which she walked out, having been untruthful, and unfaithful to my father for a number of months, and having been so using presents that my brother and I bought our parents for a wedding anniversary.
Anger at my mother for putting me through the last fifteen years of incessant off-loading re: how feckless my father is, of expressions of suicide ideation, the constant worry. The numerous decisions I’ve taken – big decisions – to try and keep my mother happy and to keep the peace with my parents. Emotional manipulation. Guilt trips. The refusal to get help or to leave the marriage when it was so clearly in trouble. The thunderous rows and arguments that needn’t have happened.
I’m exhausted, and hurting so, so much. And the rows were mostly about church and God, and being godly, so maybe God has torn our family apart, but on the other hand he hasn’t, my parents have. Good from this doesn’t seem possible, and I don’t know why God let them marry, to see them put asunder. I’m in bits.