But life does not get lived on weekends or holidays. Instead it is day to day, and when nothing too important is happening. It does not occur on those distracting and none too real days we call special.
My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Divorce
At the best of times divorce is not good and it gets no better with time. Even when it is the most tolerable alternative it is, and remains, a source of pain. To be the parent leaving home somehow seems even worse. He is, of course, invited back from time to time. He is there to witness graduations, some birthdays and maybe a Christmas or two. He also sees the children on vacations or weekends.
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