Tonight while readying the boys for bed, our eldest boy burst out with resentment at the hours his dad worked. P often worked 12 hour days and at least half of the weekend, which upset our boys long before we separated.
But tonight T railed against the unfairness. The unfairness of having a dad who chose to work long hours. The unfairness of having parents who are now separated.
I understand his pain. He has a right to be angry, especially when he has been such a trooper about the new living arrangements, finding excitement in all that is new about it.
I understand the unfairness of it. We have all been placed in this situation that none of us, except P, wanted.
So tonight I sat on the couch reminding T that his mum and dad loved him very much. Defending P's decision to end our marriage, when it still breaks my heart. Watching T slam the door on me as he runs out of the room. There are times I want to be honest with people. To say that P didn't want to work on our marriage. That it was P who wanted to end the marriage. That P had fallen out of love with me, and in love with someone else. But I don't. I bite my tongue. And tonight I did that again. Because I love my kids.
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