Like most adult children of divorce, we often have the opportunity to tell parents how we feel. It is usually difficult.

For some reason, in my family, we have been writing letters back and forth lately. The following are letters from me, one to my mom and one to my dad. Maybe someone out there can identify with something I've said!

Hi Mom...

I am so sorry that you have been feeling this way. I didn't realize you are suicidal over our problems.

As you said, Judy and I are both in our twenties and we are devastated. For whatever reason, we can't get it together right now. I don't hate her. I have felt that this past two years, no matter what I do, in her eyes, it is not good enough and I am wasting my life, wasting it on bad jobs, bad men (well, not far off the mark sometimes), bad decisions. She has even told me so on the rare occasions we can talk about things.

Despite this, it is my life. I have to live with the decisions I have made. To be honest, I would have done things differently, but that doesn't mean that my decisions were bad ones. I would not have given up the past year with you for anything.

I can understand that it upsets you to see us arguing as we are. All I can say is that it has NOTHING to do with you, and you should not take it personally. What is going on is between me and her. I will not rant and rave out loud any more about it, if you are around. I hope that that will make things easier.

I don't think, for what it's worth, that any of the four of us realized how much the divorce would affect us (by that, again I mean all 4 of us). Dad doesn't seem bothered by it at all, and as you have made decisions to move on with life which you are excited about (and rightly so), Judy and I are left to be the ones who are most outwardly devastated. We have tried to mask that too. We have tried to be excited for both of you, in your new homes, in your new relationships, in your new plans, in everything. But all it means to us is that we are being left to pursue dreams that no longer include us. Not that we won't be around to see things, hear about them, but the fact of the matter is, our plans no longer seem exciting to anyone but us, individually. And when I have needed to talk, I have tried to reach out to her, becuase she is the only one who understands how I feel. Unfortunately, you and Daddy can't understand. And Judy won't talk to me, so I feel really alone. It is impossible to begin to explain how uncomfortable it is to hear about you with another man or Dad with another woman. How hard it is to visit Dad in another apartment, or to listen to the both of you talk about the other or have to relay messages or convince someone to do something the other wants. I thought Christmas was wonderful under the circumstances, and not even a month later I find out it was terrible for some unknown reason. Now we are losing our home. I never thought it wouldn't be here. I never thought that it wouldn't be waiting for me to come to, to bring my children to. I never thought I would be at the point where I would feel that I would not want to visit my parents in their respective homes because memories in both places are too difficult to deal with. In fact, I never thought I would be a "child" of a broken home.

I hurt to the depths of my being, Mom. I know that you hurt to the depths of yours. Suddenly all my ideas about everything are dead and buried. I don't know if the life I grew up with was the one I thought it was or if it was all a lie. I don't know if I wrecked your life or Dad's life by making you settle down and be parents and not go out and do something extraordinary. Sometimes in both of you I hear resentment when speaking about what might have been. I don't know if I could have prevented what happened or changed the outcome.

This much I know: I love you, I love Dad, and I love Judy. I have never said that I hate her. I am sorry that I have hurt you so badly. I have done the best I can. Hopefully with no one home this summer, you will find your center and be able to resume normalcy on whatever you perceive it to be. In 18 months full of upheaval, when we've all been grasping at things that we thought would bring us happiness, nothing has, except the love of my parents and the hope that I may someday regain the love of my sister. Until that day, as our family scatters to the four winds, I treasure the happy memories, and hope that someday we may come together to make a few more as a foursome. As Don Quixote once said "To dream the impossible dream..."

I love you... I will send a copy of this to Dad and Judy.

Your daughter...

Hi Dad:

I know that you have been devastated by all that has happened :o) You just don't show it outwardly, that's all. I guess the time I saw you the worst was Mom's first trip to see Jim. Every time I come over, you seem pretty upbeat. I try to be upbeat too, because I don't want to waste our precious time together just being sad and blue together. I just want to say you don't always have to pretend to be happy and that's ok. Sometimes it helps me to see that you hurt about this, that it's not all wonderful to you and that you have a new house and a new life. You and I wish for the same things, that everyone could be back together at 7 River Road. It rips my heart apart to know that this house will no longer be here. I can't explain it, Dad, but it's just like so many things from the past... it seems like the past was all built on sand and is washing away and nothing in front of me makes any sense. I have spent an entire year crying to myself while helping everyone else feel better. I am so scared sometimes, Dad, because sometimes I think that Mom's problems are bigger than what I can possibly handle. She talks about suicide a lot and then says she would never do it. I don't know how to help someone like that. I don't want you rushing down here and saying anything about it, because I think it wouldn't do any good, and I'd probably "be in for it." But I am so scared to leave her alone to go to Boston for 2 weeks. I worry constantly when she goes away like this that I'm not going to see her again. I don't know who I can call for help. Maybe it is you. I just don't know. I know that I need time for my own feelings, whatever they are. I feel like someone has died, yet everyone is still here and at least outwardly everything is continuing to happen. No one is dead, no one has gone away, but I'm still losing everything.

The time is coming when I'm leaving this place. I honestly don't know when I will ever come back. I don't know how to not see this house as our home. I don't know how to drive past it and try to forget that it is here, that mom isn't going to be here, that I suddenly will have to pick and choose. I don't know how to pick without someone's feelings getting hurt. I don't know how to do anything that is being asked of me. I know that you and Mom had a rough time after her parents died. I don't know, nor do I need to know the particulars. It just seems so hard to believe things could get so bad so fast.

I love you very much. I think that sometimes I forget how much. You remind me so much of PopPop, strong for everyone. I love you, Daddy. I will see you on Thursday if not before...

Your Big Cheese