I was having coffee with Liz this morning and  I noticed Julie’s book  “Please Excuse My Daughter” on her coffee table.

I’ve read it more than once but not for years. It’s particularly dear to me because it’s all about my family. I picked it up and started to read it again.

Early in the book Julie is on her way to visit my father. She talks about the fact that my mother had died recently and his 4 daughters and 11 grandchildren were taking turns visiting him.

I am my father. dave didn’t die but he might as well have and the family has kicked in to comfort mode.

All this time I thought I was so unique. I really did. The fact that I thought I had a happy trustworthy spouse and got blind sided made me think that this was a first.

Didn’t most divorces happen when the couple were fighting and angry at each other?  Weren’t there a million signs before the break up? Didn’t couples go to therapy and try to work it out before moving on?

When dave said at 5 a.m. while I was making him poached eggs “I’m in love with a japanese woman”, I knew it was too late to fix anything.

dave wasn’t a talker. I used to joke that if I said I want a divorce it meant that that was the first time I thought of it since I usually said whatever came to mind. Therefore it could be fixed.

If dave said it there would be no turning back since he did all his thinking in his head so by the time he finally voiced it it would be his final decision. I’m laughing at my smug self now.

I know I was just flapping my lips and coming from a place of complete confidence  but I wonder what he was thinking when I said this.

I felt like dave and I were one. That’s pretty much how I loved.

I remember when I was in college I was so in love with my boyfriend, Jerry, that I didn’t know where he left off and I began. I even felt like it was strange that he had a penis and I didn’t because it suggested that we were different.  Now that I think of it it didn’t ‘suggest’,  it screamed it.

Another chink in my unique armor comes from the comments to my blog. People are identifying with it because it’s similar to what they are experiencing.

All I can say is that I hope I behave as bravely as my Dad did. I know he had setbacks. He told me that he could actually hear my mother’s voice calling him from the kitchen months after she died.

But he worked to keep busy and make a life for himself without her. He wasn’t always successful but he did pretty well.

I’m my father’s daughter.