At 24, while dealing with my own life dramas, they sat me down like it was an intervention and dropped a bombshell: they were getting a divorce.
I almost choked on my coffee.
“What?!” I spluttered, trying not to spill my drink everywhere. “But you guys are like the epitome of ’til death do us part’!”
Dad just shrugged, wearing his usual sheepish grin. “Well, even poster children need a change of scenery sometimes.”
Mom, with her familiar scowl, added, “Your father’s snoring is driving me to an early grave.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you wear earplugs to bed!”
So, they parted ways.
Dad moved into a bachelor pad on the edge of town, surrounded by sports memorabilia, while Mom joined a book club that focused more on yoga than literature. Dad’s place became filled with ESPN memorabilia, and Mom’s book club became a social hub for retirees.
Then, out of nowhere, Dad shows up at Mom’s doorstep one day with a bouquet of flowers and a confused look on his face. “Um, hi, Diane,” he starts, scratching his head like he’s got fleas. “Do I know you?” Mom squints at him, equally puzzled. “You look kinda familiar. Are you selling something?”
I’m standing there with my popcorn, watching this awkward reunion unfold like a scene from a sitcom.
Turns out, they both got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Yup, both of them. And they forgot they were divorced. And married, for that matter. Talk about a plot twist.
So, there they were, these two forgetful lovebirds, rediscovering each other like awkward teenagers on a first date. Dad would bring Mom flowers every day, and Mom would eye him suspiciously until she remembered he wasn’t a door-to-door salesman. Their interactions were straight out of a comedy sketch. Dad would try to woo Mom with his best dad jokes, only to forget the punchline halfway through. And Mom would try to shush him every time he got too loud, only to forget why she was shushing him in the first place.
And me? I’m stuck in the middle of this circus, playing the role of the exasperated daughter trying to keep her parents from burning down the house.
“Dad, you can’t barbecue in the living room!” I’d yell, snatching the lighter out of his hand.
“But Sarah, I thought I was making a special dinner for your mother,” he’d reply, looking confused.
From the other room, Mom would add, “I did smell something burning!”
Despite the chaos, there was a sweetness in their interactions. Witnessing my parents find joy despite their forgetfulness reminded me that love has no boundaries.
We hope this couple have a happy old age together. After all, divorce is always a serious ordeal.
Preview photo credit Negativespace
