February 2005
The first time my husband left me was a wet rainy February day, the afternoon before the annual "Father Daughter" dance. He was taking his stepdaughters, my daughters, but he called them his own. He was unhappy, I knew. Working out of town for weeks at a time mixed with a couple of days at home trying to unwind and adjust to family life took its tole, to be certain. Two years of this had finally overwhelmed him; the emotional and financial burdens we faced were overwhelming and he snapped.

After several weeks of arguing, mainly over the phone, and mainly over finances and my need for him to be home more often, he announced he wanted a divorce. It was like a blow to my abdomen; I felt the air knocked out. I immediately grabbed a cigarette and the phone and called my mom. "He (gulp) wants (gulp, puff) a (gulp, puff, gulp) a (gulp) divorce (sob, sob, sob)" I cried. She was audibly shocked but very reassuring and went right into the "it's OK, we'll get through this" mother talk. I don't think my parents took it seriously at first, having known the problems we were going through already.

That night was hard. I helped the girls get ready for the dance while he sat in the living room waiting. The atmosphere was tense; neither of us had a word to say to one another. He left with the girls as I sat watching TV. I continued to watch TV and smoked nervously all night, waiting for them to come home. In my mind I was thinking he would come home and we would make up. After all, we always did. The hours rolled by and finally they came home. I tucked them in and came out to the living room. "I'm going to spend the night at the shop," he said. My pride took over. Instead of asking to talk, I took a deep breath, folded my arms and said, "good idea."

In hindsight, I should have expected his announcement. Two weeks earlier, we had been in an argument while he was working out-of-town. I was livid about the behavior of our oldest son (we have 2 sons and 2 daughters), and wanted Eric to come home and deal with the situation. He told me we were out of control and he just couldn't handle it for much longer. I took that as my cue to ask if he meant he wanted a divorce. There was silence on the other end. It just happened to be two nights before Valentines Day. I didn't get or give a call the day after our fight, but on the third day we made an effort to make up - over the phone, as he was driving home. We planned on a romantic

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