Poignant Irony

One of the hardest parts of growing up for me was having divorced parents. Mom and Dad split up when I was six years old. Hard for a kid to take and definitely something that stays with you your whole life. Like most kids of divorced parents I longed for a reconciliation so that we would all be a family again but of course it was not to be. My folks always got along well when it came to me and my brother, Scott. They were a model for putting all the other crap aside and doing what is best for the children and for that I am grateful.

My graduation from high school and my wedding were one of the few times that Mom and Dad were in the same place together for any period of time. At my wedding I was hoping to have a photo taken of me and Debby with just my parents and no new spouses. Nothing personal against the steps, it was just the young boy in me longing to have a momento of me with just my parents. Mom did not feel comfortable doing so without her current husband and so it never happened. Too bad, but I understood why and continued to accept that they were no longer together.

Last night, because it is the beginning of Yom Kippor, we lit memorial candles for both Mom and Dad. On Yom Kippor my family has always lit a candle to remember those who are no longer with us. Breaking the fast at my grandmother's house would not be complete without a candle burning for my great-grandmother or my grandfather. It's just one of those traditions that you always remember your family observing and there is comfort in that. This is the first time we have lit a candle for my father who died late last year and I could not help realizing that the two candles burning side-by-side sadly reunite my parents in the hardest way possible for me.