My parents divorced when I was 16.  Contrary to many children of divorce, this was not devastating news to me.  In fact, I encouraged it.  They had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years and fought all the time.  Like any good teenager, I rolled my eyes when my Mom blamed their sleeping arrangement on my Dad’s snoring.  It was not until years later that I learned how well they could actually coexist.

Their marriage ended with a lot of mutual anger and resentment, very common ingredients in the stew of divorce.  I convinced them that it would be easier to adjust if I had my own car; that way I could visit either of them when I wanted.  Of course, this was only partially manipulative.  I figured that they were so busy fighting, I’d be doing them a favor!

As time progressed, my sister and I became accustomed to alternating holidays between my parents.  If my Dad got Christmas one year, then my Mom got Thanksgiving the next, and vice versa.

Overall, it started to feel somewhat normal.  This was my quirky family, and we did our best to adjust.  I knew the details of their financial arrangement.  My mother received some property and spousal support for 20 years.  In my mind it all seemed fair.

Four years after the divorce, my Mother was in a bad car accident when she was rear-ended by a Mack truck.  The truck driver was female, and my mom affectionately refers to her as the “See-You-Next-Tuesday” who rammed into her.  Unfortunately, my mother’s pain won the battle and she did not stick to her doctor-prescribed physical therapy.  She still suffers from tremendous pain 15 years later, and is basically wheelchair bound.

My sister and I have spent years worrying about her.  My mother is a loving, generous spirit, but she was never great with money.  It is so bizarre to visit my father’s waterfront home in Long Island, and then to visit my mother at her apartment complex in Cleburne, Texas.  She lives alone, an hour’s drive from my sister.  The distance makes the occasional pop-in visit nearly impossible.  When I would visit her, the activities schedule often boasted about their bible classes: “Debunking the Myth of Evolution” was a popular one.  This was not exactly the right fit for my mother, who studied A Course In Miracles and enthusiastically purchased my first Tarot Deck.  Tarrin and I knew that someday we would have to face the end of her alimony, and there was constantly a lingering thought of – what will happen with Mom?

However, something magical happens when babies are born.  When my sister had her first child, my parents seemed to lay down their gauntlets and we began spending holidays together.  I always figured that Mom and Dad still hated each other, but having a grandkid trumped those old feelings.  Everyone just wanted to be with the kids.  When my sister had a second baby, that scenario became even stronger.

By spending holidays together, my dad started to see my mother’s condition.  For years he would complain to me:

“When is she going to get a job?”
“I don’t know Dad, ask her.”
“Why can’t she get a job at a hair salon answering phones?  She could stay in her scooter and would not have to walk anywhere.”
“Dad, she can’t work.”

Sometimes their old acrimony would bubble up, and I just always assumed he wouldn’t get it.  It also didn’t feel like my responsibility to explain it.  I could see both of their sides, and I tried not to choose one.

This past Christmas, we were all together for the holidays when out of nowhere my dad said, “I want you to research assisted-living facilities in Dallas for your Mom.”

“But she can’t afford that Dad.”
“Let’s just get the facts first.”

My sister and I called various places in the Dallas area and explained my mother’s condition and needs.  Together we found a lovely facility six miles away from my sister’s home in Dallas that offered independent living in a more suitable environment.

My father presented the idea to my mother.  He would agree to continue paying alimony if she agreed to move to a place that was better able to accommodate her needs.  It was a now-or-never sort of offer.  We patiently awaited her response and did our best to respect her fears.  She hesitated giving up a sense of independence, and was fearful of moving to a much smaller (but nicer) apartment.

My mother finally agreed.

In a show of support, we all decided to fly to Dallas as a family to help move her.  As David and I landed in Dallas, I was overcome with emotion.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.  We spent three full days selling items of furniture, packing up my mother’s apartment, moving her, and then refurnishing the new space.  Out of sheer generosity my father offered to buy some new pieces of furniture, as he understood that the smaller apartment required that everything have a dual purpose.

On Saturday afternoon there was a brief moment where my sister, my parents and I were quietly working on the new space.  I looked around, and a warm feeling swept over me.  I couldn’t recall the last time we were all on the same page about something.  And yet here we were, almost 20 years later working together as a family because one of us was in need.

Being a member of a divorced family, I always assumed that my parents’ marriage was somehow a hiccup in the universe.  That they must have had some kind of spiritual contract that produced two children, but they were never really in love.  This was the first time that I was able to picture a point when my parents cared deeply for each other.  And though it is 20 years later, I feel stronger as a family than ever before.  We are not a “traditional” family, but we’ve come together at important times.  We were together for the birth of my niece and nephew.  We came together for weddings and even funerals.  And now, when my mother needed our help, we came together to support this transition.

It’s funny how we define family.  The images from my childhood depict a man and a woman and two children living in a home together.  As I’ve grown, I’ve surrounded myself with a variety of families.  I also have a newfound respect for my own charmingly unique family.  My parents live apart and in separate states.  My sister, her husband and kids live in Dallas as well.  But deep in my heart I know that if any of us is in need, we will unite again to support and love each other.  As a family.