It happened. We got word today that my in-laws are separating. Their 32nd anniversary is this Thursday. That will be an extremely painful, uncomfortable day.

I remember how it was spending my first anniversary in my first marriage. We grudgingly ate a bite of the stale, freezer-burnt cake top my mom forced upon us and bared our teeth for pictures. It was a joke for us to pretend to celebrate anything when we had already had one separation and were well on our way to another one. My mom was determined to prove we were happy and committed by having us choking down old cake. But it takes more than cake, wishful thinking, and religious conviction to overcome a psychologically ill spouse. I will always recall that day with bitter humor. It just so happened to be twelve years ago yesterday.

My first marriage wasn't even a flicker in the dark compared to my in-law's. They have so much history, over half their lives spent in each other's company. All those years don't make the strains any easier though. In fact, it might exacerbate them, when my father-in-law saw all the happy times by looking over his shoulder instead of looking ahead, while my mother-in-law still dreamed of growing old together.

Sometimes I get angry that they don't try harder. MIL seems resigned. She says this is FIL's decision, that he's the one who is confused, so he's the one in control. He is going to a therapist and suggested she do the same, but they haven't sought couples counseling. And even though he is going himself, he still waffles back and forth and spent weeks in the same house without saying a word to her. She says they've been talking more lately, but from what she tells me, it only sounds like negotiations for how this marriage will end. I want her to fight. I want him to care.

But I stay silent and lend what support I can. I know how much it hurts to hear someone say you're not trying hard enough when you're doing all you can. It might not seem like enough from the outside, but sometimes the heart just can't bear to do any more. And sometimes, the heart just isn't in it.

As much as I don't want to think it, I suspect my FIL was lured away by someone fresh and new. It's mostly a gut feeling, and I have kept that suspicion to myself but for John and Kay, until now. It's something I had to get off my chest though. John didn't really want to hear about it, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to hear something like that about one of my parents, so I just said it and left it at that. If I'm right, it will come out in the end. There's no point in announcing what I think to everyone. I don't want to add to the problem. I also refrain from judging my FIL on a hunch.

I wrote him a letter a couple of weeks ago, telling him I don't judge him and that I appreciate things he's done for me. I haven't seen nor heard from him since. I get secondhand information about what he's doing and what he's saying. I think about contacting him directly sometimes, just to remind him that we don't hate him and still want him to be a part of our lives. I fear he will drop out of the entire family, believing MIL is the one we all value and love. But John still needs him, and the kids do too. He won't stop being a father and grandfather just because he leaves his wife. Or maybe he wants to shed everything in this current life. I don't know, so I keep my distance and hope for the best.

That's the way I handle everything. As with any uncomfortable situation, I don't know what to do or say. There are far too many awkward silences when I'm with MIL, and she's talking about this collapsing marriage. It's not that I don't want her to talk, but I don't feel I have anything at all to contribute. I tell her I'm sorry. I listen. It won't help her for me to bash the man she still loves, especially since I wouldn't believe anything I might say. Any input I have on the situation isn't needed either. She's going to do what she wants and needs to do. She has twenty-one years of life on me, and a situation I've never experienced. My ears are much better tools than my mouth.

I haven't really thought about how this will affect us. I ask John how he's doing every so often. As usual, he seems fine, says he's fine. I stay on my toes though. I'm sure we'll fight later, and his frustration about this will get diverted toward whatever our argument is about. I try to keep talking to him as much as I can to avoid letting any feelings of resentment build up, and he's been more attentive. I think we both want to avoid being in the same sad state in twenty years as his parents. I'd rather just end it now if that were to happen.

I've been wanting to write about this for the past two weeks but never felt right about it. Now that the separation seems to be official, and it's not a secret anymore, I felt like I could finally vent here. Not a day has gone by that I don't think about them. It's simply sad to see people you care about go through such things. You can't see it and not feel affected. I'm sure this is only the beginning too, the beginning of the end.

---------------------------------------------