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Kids with divorced parents have to do what they can to feel good. I was a little different. I already felt good about myself. I never thought the divorce was my fault. It never even occured to me to think otherwise, until some well-meaning grown-up decided to put the idea in my head by repeatedly telling me, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." Well of course it wasn't. I knew that. It was my father's idea to suddenly come to terms with his sexual preferences and choose to come out of the closet. I'll admit that when I was only 11, I didn't fully understand why he made that decision. I questioned in my mind whether he really loved us, why would he want to leave, what's wrong with staying with us. I understand now that it was a major and horrendously difficult decision for him to make. He loved me more than life itself but he couldn't continue to live with his current situation. I know it tore his heart apart to see me upset and he was probably feeling guilty until the day he died.
Life was different after my parents' divorce, but I made due with the crappy hand I was being dealt. I clung to family traditions and embraced the new ones created by having parents in two different homes. That was kind of cool. Suddenly we were able to have two whole separate Christmas celebrations, two separate birthday parties, and two Easters. Twice the fun! What kid can resist that?
One particular Easter was exceptionally challenging. It must have been one of the first ones after the divorce. My father was with his first lover, Bob, a man that hated us but involved himself happily with us anyway. We had fun with him and hated him right back. That created a weird, ambivalent set of emotions within me. On this Easter, I had worked very hard on coloring my Easter eggs in new and unusual ways. One of my eggs had turned out exceptionally well and I was particularly proud of it. I left it as the last one to be eaten. That was my own personal little tradition, save the best for last. I was sitting in the breakfast nook across the table from Bob and I was taking one last appreciative look at my egg before I cracked the shell. I set it down on the table in front of me and smiled at it, possibly waiting for Bob to comment on the good job I did.
Lightening fast and seemingly out of nowhere, Bob's fist came crashing down on my egg, smashing it into little pieces. I sat stunned for a few seconds with my mouth hanging open. I couldn't believe that anyone would do that to me. In just that one wordless action, Bob conveyed the following message to me: I don't like you, I don't care about you, I don't want you around, I don't want you to be happy, I don't want you to be proud of yourself, I'm sick of listening to you, and I want to hurt you. I gathered up a fistful of egg and threw it at his face with all the strength my little arm could muster. Then I ran from the kitchen, up the stairs, into my sister's old bedroom, and slammed the door. That was a biggie with Bob. No one was supposed to slam doors - ever. I slammed that door with the all the power of my hurt and anger. The whole house rattled. As I fumed and cried upstairs, I could hear Bob yelling at my dad downstairs. He wanted him to come upstairs and punish me. I held my breath and listened.
My dad didn't come upstairs. He stayed downstairs and defended me. The words were muffled through the floor but the tone was clear. So was the wordless message my dad was sending to me: I love you, I care about how you feel, I'm sorry that my friend hurt you, you were right to be hurt and angry, and I'll defend you and protect you forever. His unconditional love for me was crystal clear that day and I reveled in its warmth. I still get a mischievous and satisfactory smirk on my face everytime I recall the moment when Bob sat there with egg on his face.
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I'd be interested in hearing from other people who have a gay parent. Most of my experiences were positive, but 25-30 years ago, I couldn't find the open support that is out there now. I couldn't talk about it back then, but I'd like to now.
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