Introduction, April 2016

Introduction

'He always had a woman in between.'

“It’s the first time we’ve ever been able to see him alone...He always had a woman in between.”

This is what David said when he first came to visit from New Jersey right after Dad went into the nursing home.  I can never forget these words Such a profound statement of reality. Daddy never had been alone since his first marriage to Mom on May 1, 1945. Actually, I don't suppose he'd been alone much before that either. He was so good-looking and talented and popular and delightful, how could anyone not want to be with him?

So there was always “a woman in between.” We kept on losing him, again and again. We kept being called upon to adjust again and again to each new woman. But, finally, at the nursing home, we got to see him alone.

David told me how he had asked him shortly after he left, first if he could go with him and second, why didn't he just stay. I just remember being caught sticking my tongue out at the (first)  new woman's picture. That was a risky situation. It was bad enough to be sentenced to seeing him only on certain days of the week. Risking estrangement from him because of any perceived insubordination would have been unbearable. Maybe talking about it now will bring some healing.

He was always with the woman, whoever she was. He was only really with us when he was married to Mom for 11 years. Then he was married to Irene 11 years; Judy, 15 years; not married to Anne 8 years; married to Peggy,18 years. He really tried to get it right, and maybe he did with the last one.

But I truly believe that the way it turned out was not the way he wanted it from the beginning. Had Mom not divorced him, I don't know if that would have meant unending infidelities or perhaps if she had given him another chance they could have made it work. Of course now we'll never know. But I do know now he didn't mean to ruin our lives.

Honestly, I was never mad at him; I was always mad at Mom. She was the one who filed. Of course there was a time when I blamed Irene, but by then blaming had become pretty pointless. It does seem crazy to me now that I could never blame him. In my eyes it was never his fault. Nothing was ever his fault. He was my hero. End of discussion.

I still find it hard to believe that Dad was seeing Irene for years on the side before the divorce but it must be true because Peggy said Dad was seeing Irene while Peggy was working for him when I was just five years old!

Dad had married Mom in England after serving in the U.S. Naval Reserve on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. We went to the Episcopal Church because it was probably what Mom wanted – the closest thing to the Church of England. Dad was raised a Methodist. When he was married to Irene, Irene didn't go to church, so Dad didn't go to church. And when he was married to Judy, she went to the Episcopal Church with him. And when he was living with Anne she didn't go to church so he didn't go to church, and when he was married to Peggy, she went to the Christian church, so he went to the Christian church. Dad was kind of like the male version of the woman at the well, I think. One woman after another. But at least he stayed with them for a long time. See how I always give him the benefit of the doubt.

A yellowed, undated newspaper article, written sometime between 1951 and 1957, called “Judge Cogswell Lists Major Points in Rearing Children,” tells me he once cared about church and family. In this article he listed “making home and church, combined, the center of family life” as one of five major points in rearing children. I think he really believed that, because he told me he “got saved at a Baptist revival when he was 16” and I believed him. But still we became a broken family.

We don’t have to remain stuck there anymore, but that is what happened. I think that's the reality we grew up in, and naming it what it was is an important part of healing, and I believe we are still healing. And we are still dealing with it. It never goes away. And on the other hand because we experienced this, we can be compassionate and help people who have been through something similar. That's the good part.

If there are people reading this who are hurting because of any kind of dysfunction or brokenness in their childhood or even in the present, I pray that you will find hope in these pages. It is my belief that “(God) comforts us in all our tribulation, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

I finally forgave my parents for ruining my life, but it didn't happen overnight. We tried but could not put Humpty-Dumpty together again. We could not unscramble eggs. We could not bridge the troubled water. We could not and cannot, no matter how much we tried and no matter how much we still try to fix ourselves from the damage that was done. It really is a job for God. And he is very capable.

I still grieve their divorce. It was a very sad event and set in motion a series of sad events. But the pain has subsided, and in that brokenness I have learned that Jesus did come to heal the broken-hearted, because he healed me.  I do not say that I have “got” it, once and for all, but at least I know where the healing is. And it is always available.

I have the memories of the times spent with Dad and Peggy near the end, just before he went into the nursing home, sitting on the side of their bed with the TV on, looking at him smile and roll his eyes. But now he’s gone and I can’t reach for him anymore. I am having to learn to reach higher. Where the everlasting arms are.

Mom and Dad’s divorce changed the course of our lives. David and I went from being the first born and only daughter and the first born and only son in an intact family to what was known then as “products of a broken home.” The term “broken” seems to have come back into the popular use lately. For a while it seems to have gone out of fashion, the “experts” preferring to refer to this as “changes in family structure.”

In a way, the divorce defined both of our lives forever, and even though we shared a lot of it, I know we went through our own separate suffering and still go through suffering that can be traced to the breakup and subsequent issues surrounding the divorce. As children, we did not have the resources to support one another, only to struggle for our own survival. But now that has changed. Now we have resources. Now perhaps we can complete the grieving process and move on.

For most of my life, emotional pain had been my constant companion, threatening to pull me down into its stranglehold forever. I didn’t think I would ever get over it. Fifty years after my parents' divorce, I told God I couldn’t get over it. It was a horrible admission. Until this very moment, I have thought I had gotten over it until it raised its ugly head again and again.

But the amazing thing is that each time I face it again and honestly admit to myself and to God the problem I'm having, I can feel emotional healing taking place. Sometimes there will be tears and the feeling of being cleansed. Sometimes I have to, once again, remind myself that I have forgiven them, just as Christ has forgiven me. Maybe this is kind of like the Apostle Paul's “thorn in the flesh,” so that God could keep reminding him, “My grace is sufficient for you.”

I don't believe there is any healing in denial. I believe people can remain slaves to their hurt and become bitter if they refuse to acknowledge the truth of what is going on inside them and release it somehow in order for healing to take place in order to bury the past and go forward into the great things God has planned for us. For me, that place of release is in my personal relationship with Jesus. He doesn't turn me away. He doesn't say, “Oh, it's you again; well, just get over it.” People might say that, but God never does.

So, where is Dad Now? Will I see him again? It may sound crazy, but on Father’s Day, I believe I heard the words, “He’s safe with me.” Was this just my imagination? Wishful thinking perhaps? Is Christianity simply some crutch to get you through this life, imagining there is something on the other side and some fictional belief that we will see our loved ones again in heaven? I don't believe that.

I have lived the first half of my life not knowing God and the second half of my life knowing Him. It makes a big difference. Whatever I have lost in this life God has made up for by His constant presence in my life.

God has given me abilities to enjoy: being able to create art, play music, learn languages, express myself with words somewhat. But those things are no longer life itself. I no longer have to use them to justify my existence.

 I used to think I was pretty gifted and talented and ought to be able to be rich and famous some day. That's pretty much what I thought should happen. Then I met my Maker, and somehow over the years he has made nearly everything irrelevant but my relationship with him.

Everybody who knew me before knows I've changed. It must be a mystery to them how this kind of thing could happen. I don't understand it completely myself. But here it is, the story of losing Daddy and finding my Father. The story of being his daughter and His daughter and forgiving our parents for ruining our lives. And, finally, moving to a place of happiness known in some circles as one's “sweet spot.”

Dad used to ask me, “Did you ever see the farm in Pretty Prairie?” And I'd say, “Not that I remember.”

“Well, we'll have to take you there,” he'd say.

“I'd like that,” I'd say. But no, I never did see the farm in Pretty Prairie, Maybe someday I will because with God nothing is impossible. And meanwhile I can dream. Come, dream with me. Let's talk about finding that sweet spot.