I call her a younger girl, but she was older than me by a few years. I was 18, and she was 21 when she met my 56 y/o Dad.
But let me rewind the story and start at the beginning. Well, at least at what I saw as the beginning of this drama.
I grew up in a pretty traditional household. Dad (56) travelled a lot for his sales job, and my Mom (42) was always a work-at-home type. She cooked for us, kept the house comfortable and in order, and spent a lot of time decorating and gardening and spent a ton of time on her kids. While my dad's work managed to keep him in pretty good shape, my mom was pretty much the opposite. More of a couch-potato book-reading type homebody.
Things were going really well, dad doubled his income that year, and everything seemed alright (or so I thought) until one day I came home from school and heard someone crying. Mom was on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably as if someone had just died.
I rushed towards her, to try to comfort her and hold her. "What happened?," I asked of her, imaginging the worst possible scenarios.
"Your dad called. He said he met someone in the city he was working with, and that he is in love and that he a divorce", she sobbed out in between wiping up her tears.
Mom pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of the new girl and her husband. Apparently she found her noseying around twitter and found pics of Dad and her embracing and spending a lot of time together. She was aside herself trying to make sense of it all, just as much as I was.
I could tell Dad had been calling less these past few weeks but didn't think much of it, I assumed he was just busy with work.
