an adult child of divorce
When Lisa-jane Stratton’s parents split after a 50-year marriage, the devastation hit her harder than ever
‘I couldn’t help but feel pride’
As a child, I loved looking through my parents’ wedding album, and there was one picture in particular that always fascinated me. It was of my mother and father slicing their wedding cake, the British and american flags skewered into the top to represent their different nationalities. my mum looked like a princess in her ivory wedding gown, and my dad her prince.
Seeing that picture, I couldn’t help but feel proud. It was almost like glimpsing at a real-life fairy tale. My parents met in 1950, when my father, Bob, was introduced to my mother, Frances, by her cousin. Dad had been stationed in London with the US Navy. On their first date, Dad picked Mum up in a classic American car, which impressed her a lot.
Within two years, they were married and moved to Florida, where my dad worked in the car business. But my mum missed home too much, so they came to an arrangement – they’d split their time between the US and the UK, and when Dad retired they’d relocate to England.
A year later, in 1953, my brother Robert Jnr was born, followed by me in 1963. Growing up, I don’t think I ever saw my parents holding hands or kissing in public, but they always had a mutual respect and seemed to be great friends. Never was this more apparent than when they were hosting one of their legendary summer parties, where Dad was usually stationed at the barbecue, while Mum whizzed around topping up glasses. When I moved to London to start work in marketing, I always looked forward to my trips home to see them.
The golden years
During their marriage, they travelled the world together and enjoyed going out to dinner and the theatre. And as they got older, their marriage settled into a happy routine of dinner parties and beach walks. The fact theirs was one of the most enduring marriages I knew was a great point of pride for me. Although, I enjoyed relationships over the years, none were as longlasting as my parents, and it was something I always hoped to emulate one day.
By the time they got to their 70s, I thought nothing could topple them. But when my father retired and they moved into a flat in Hove and started house hunting for their retirement home in the UK, something shifted. I’d accompany them on viewings and suggest properties they should go to see. But I’d noticed that Dad was increasingly distant and disinterested, which upset Mum.
A few times I heard them arguing in the other room. At first, I just assumed it was the stress of the move. But as the years passed
‘I felt relief As much As sadness’
and they struggled to find the perfect new home, their relationship became noticeably more tense. Until one day in 2009 the tensions erupted. Mum and I had been out, and when we arrived home, Dad joined us in the living room. ‘I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,’ he said, turning to Mum. ‘You keep the flat and I’ll take the money.’ I tried to calm them down, but in the end Dad left. Taking a seat next to my mother, she didn’t seem sad. Just defeated. It was one the saddest moments of my life, because it was clear my parents’ marriage had been damaged beyond repair.
The split
A few days later, Dad collected his luggage and flew back to America. It was heartbreaking to see a lifelong love like theirs extinguished. I’d never realised how much security and comfort I drew from them being together. Now it felt like my world had been torn up. My closest friends were supportive, but some people didn’t seem to understand. ‘What a shame,’ they’d shrug. I felt I was expected to just get on with it. As though, just because I was an adult it didn’t impact me. But the truth is it did. Perhaps, it would have been easier if I were 14. I could have told myself they weren’t meant to last. But at 52, I knew that just wasn’t true because I had the lifetime of happy memories to prove otherwise. They had been through so much together. It just didn’t make sense that they couldn’t weather this.
Having been a housewife her whole life, my mother had no idea about legal agreements. So it fell to me to represent her in meetings with the lawyers. It meant, as an adult, I wasn’t afforded the neutrality of a child. I had to go into survival mode for her, and put my emotions aside to support her. It was like a role reversal, where I became the parent.
Eventually, the stress got to me, and I started finding loose clumps of hair in my brush. When the divorce finally went through in 2011 – the same day as their 60th wedding anniversary – I felt relief as much as sadness. At least now we could all carry on with our lives, however different they looked from the one before. My mum remained in Hove, where she still lives today and I visit every weekend.
Seven years on, I’ve finally come to terms with my parents’ divorce. I’ve accepted that they are people in their own right, who make mistakes, who can fall out of love with each other. But I haven’t let it impact my own sense of love.
Special occasions are different of course. We used to spend them all together. Now, every Christmas Mum and I tick another destination off our travel bucket list. I still call Dad occasionally. He never asks about Mum though. He knows it would upset me, and I’d rather focus on our relationship. While every adult’s experience of parents splitting up is different, one thing is certain, they can still be hurt by divorce, just as much as children.