December 2002 - There is something wrong with Dad

Looking back now, I know it wasn't the first sign of the problem. But it was the day that my son Kevin and I knew, for a fact, that there was something wrong with my husband Dick. To someone looking in from the outside, it might not have been so startling. But within families, people know each other so well, and they sense changes in each other much earlier than anyone else can. Anyway, here's the simple story of what happened:

It was the morning of Christmas Eve 2002. Kevin, then 12 years old, and I were in the kitchen baking Christmas cookies together. It was going to be a wonderful Christmas holiday. My mother and stepfather, my brother and his wife and his young kids, were all coming over to spend the day together, opening presents and just being together. The next day, Christmas, would be a quiet day with just our own little family. And the day after Christmas, our friends from Germany were due to arrive to spend 10 days with us on a vacation in Mexico. So this particular morning was to be the start of a relaxing 10-day holiday away from work with all of the people I loved most in the whole world.

While Kevin and I baked cookies, Dick watched TV in the adjoining family room. I was slightly annoyed that he wasn't joining us in the kitchen, but this had become more normal lately. Dick had been watching more and more television. He was 62 years old then and seemed to have found one excuse or another not to play as much golf as he used to. Instead, he watched television constantly. Well, today, I was not going to worry about that. I shrugged off my annoyance and focused on creating a lovely, memorable holiday for my only child, the true love of my life.

Just as we were putting the cookies on the cookie sheet, I saw Dick stand up in the family room and reach for his car keys. "Where are you going?" I asked. "Yeah, Dad, you can't go anywhere now; the family's on the way over to open presents," Kevin added. Dick just glared at us and said something along the lines of, "I'm leaving and I'm never coming back." Thinking this was some kind of sick joke from my husband, who had always been a teaser, I said, "Come on, Dick, where are you really going? Can't it wait? We've still got a lot to do before the family arrives for Christmas Eve." Dick just walked out the back door.

My heart sank. Outwardly, I remained calm for Kevin's sake (the first of many times in the last six years that I have put on the outwardly calm mask). But inside, I was in turmoil. No marriage is perfect and we'd had a few times when we hadn't seen eye-to-eye on everything, but in our 16 years of marriage, there hadn't been a sign of trouble that would cause him to talk about leaving. This made no sense. Kevin, on the verge of tears, wanted to know, "Where's Dad? Will he get back in time?" So, for Kevin's sake, I laughed it off and told him his Dad would be back in plenty of time, not to worry. But I was simply hoping I was right. I heard every single second tick off on the clock, trying to figure out what to do if he didn't come back in an hour, or two, or whenever I would not be able to stand it any more.

Then, an hour later, I saw his car pull into the garage, as the last of the cookies were coming out of the oven. With a mixture of relief and fury, I asked him where he had been. Kevin and I both remember clearly his next words. "Home Depot. I just had to get some light bulbs. Why?" He said this with a look of such innocence and perplexity. He had no idea what he'd just put us through. I pulled him into the bedroom and demanded that he go apologize to Kevin, and he just looked at me and said, "Why? All I did was go to Home Depot." He sat down to watch more TV.

When I went back to the kitchen, Kevin said, "There's something wrong with Dad." And I knew he was right.