The Broken Pieces

It was one of those evenings when our family of five had to be in three places at once.  I felt pulled many directions that day, and made every effort for things to go smoothly.  It was all worth it when my husband and I finally got to the party that evening, a surprise party for Scott's 40th birthday.  My friend Laura had made every effort to to add meaningful and personal touches to the celebration.  Pictures were everywhere that bespoke years of happiness together.  Scott and Laura with friends, Scott and Laura in college, Scott and Laura when they were married, and when they adopted their little girl.  Scott and Laura.  ScottnLaura, really.  And yes, names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the guilty.

While we laughed and enjoyed our time with friends, I have to wonder what was going on in Scott's mind.  Yes, he looked a little sheepish, but I chalked it up to being the center of attention, and to being the butt of so many jokes.  Maybe he was thinking that we were all blind fools.  Or maybe he had a moment of clarity and realized that he was the fool.  We laughed all evening, and by the time we went home, I was hoarse.  How blessed we are to have friends like them, I thought.

One week later, let me repeat that, ONE WEEK later Scott did what only he knew was coming.  Well, he and another woman who hadn't been invited to the party.  He left Laura and their daughter, giving the tired old line of not being in love anymore, going through the motions, blah blah, blah.

Now Laura and her daughter will move to be closer to the support of family.  Her daughter Baily is best friends with my daughters, and the tears have been flowing at our house.  Just adding up the losses is astounding: marriage, family, home, identity, community...  How unfair for him to inflict this on Laura and Baily.  Yes, I am angry and shocked.  I know that divorce is common, but statistics are one thing, and people that you care about are quite another.  I grieve for them, and I grieve for my own children as well, because a piece of their innocence was shattered by this too.  My son asked, "If Daddy leaves us, who would take me to Cub Scouts?" 

There is a small subplot that almost gets lost in this sad tale.  While we were at the party, Baily stayed at the house with my daughters.  The girls made a tent, and tied one end of a blanket to a shelf in their room.  This careless mistake caused the shelf to fall, and with it a collection of ceramics.  Things the girls had painted, souvenirs, etc.  Every one of them broke; not one was spared.  They wrapped their collection of broken treasures in a blanket, and realized how foolish they had been.  I was quick to dismiss it as a worthwhile lesson to them, but even I've opened the blanket and fitted the pieces together wondering what can be saved and what must be tossed.  Through this week of tears, I've reconsidered these broken, childish treasures.  I think I need to give it another try, and maybe look for just the right glue to fix them.  Some things in life can be fixed.  I want my kids to know that.