Meet Me at the Mexican Restaurant

2024 - LaFiesta Restaurant

“Let’s take a picture.”

This was my response when I realized we were sharing a family moment. Our family is no longer ordinary. Sixteen years ago, we became a modernized family - the divorce version. 

Smiling from a booth in a Mexican restaurant, our kind waiter snapped a couple of photos of us: me, my ex-husband, and our three grown sons.

It was an impromptu dinner in Nebraska. Three of us had just arrived from other parts of the country, and two already lived there. The event that brought me and my sons together was a family reunion for my side of the family.

I had flown in that afternoon. My middle son, Ben, had driven into town earlier that day. The youngest son, Grant, was next to arrive by plane. We planned on dinner for the three of us after he landed. But as is typical in life, things didn’t go as planned.

Grant’s plane was delayed and Zach was just getting off of work.

Our dinner plans changed to meeting Zach at a restaurant closer to his home after picking up Grant from the airport. Driving to the designated Mexican restaurant, my phone rang. It was the boys’ dad, my ex-husband.

“Hey, Zach said you are all meeting for dinner. I just finished golf league. Can I join?”

A new dinner plan for our party of five was solidified without hesitation.

We laughed and caught up on life over dinner without tension or animosity. The conversation was full of small talk, with the NFL draft catching the boys’ attention on background TV screens. Scott, my ex, talked about his golf game. 

I pulled out birthday cards from my purse. Our boys share birthdays with an April date. Grant’s birthday was the week prior. With his brothers having milestones the following week, I saw this outing as a perfect time to hand-deliver them.

Zach, Ben, and Grant opened the envelopes, laughing over my bonus addition of Pokeman cards. Watching them share their Pokeman favorites brought me back to celebrating birthdays when they were little boys.

“Hey, when was the last time just the five of us went to dinner together?”

I posed this question as I privately reminisced over those many years ago when we were just an ordinary family.

After some thinking and pauses, we concluded there hadn’t been a dinner with just the five of us since the divorce. A similar birthday celebration in April 2008 likely would have been our last hoorah as a traditional family. Years have flown by with our little boys growing into young men, all while their parents were no longer married.

Those years between divorce and today were not all amiable. There was a year or so of separate birthday celebrations and a lot of animosity. I don’t remember a particular turning point when Scott and I stopped acting out of anger and hurt. Our reliance on Parenting Plans and communications through attorneys slowly disappeared.

Somewhere along the line, we stopped getting caught up in the outside noise and internal angst and instead focused on the kids. Although words were never exchanged, forgiveness between us was implied and accepted.

And unlike today, when the norm is asking a waiter to take a group photo, this wouldn’t have crossed our minds before iPhones. Most of the family photos I have from those outings lie in my memory and are joyful. Now that I’m long past the pain of our family coming apart, I can vividly remember the happiness we experienced before.

2002 - Boys’ birthday celebration at our favorite restaurant

…

The first post-divorce birthday outing I remember as a unified parental unit was when Zach turned 21. It was April 2014. As I sat next to Scott at one of our boys’ many athletic events, we discussed how Zach’s first legit drink needed to be a good one. We decided to buy our oldest son his first drink at a nice bar. Zach then chose the noon hour as the best time for a parental coming-of-age outing.

A couple of Zach’s close friends joined, and I provided my credit card to cover the noon-hour tab. The bar had an extensive scotch menu, and we encouraged everyone to order a glass of ‘the good stuff’ before turning to draft beer.

Scott had forgotten his reading glasses and unintentionally ordered a $50 glass of scotch. His eyes missed a zero printed on the small-print bar menu. And although mid-day, in Scott’s defensive, the bar was dark.

Closing the bill, I noticed one drink comprising half the tab. Ready to blame the newly minted 21-year-old, Zach quickly shifted the blame to his dad, my ex. This became a new running joke, ensuring Scott had his reading glasses with him going forward when money was involved.

2014 - Zach’s 21st birthday celebration

After the birthday happy hour, I had a leadership retreat to attend. Thinking my timing was perfect for a boozy lunch, I joined the meeting, with my only worry being the availability of coffee to stay awake.

The first ice-breaker exercise was a question posed to the group: “What is something you’ve done that you are most proud of?”

My eyes brimmed with tears as I quickly knew my answer. As the other leaders shared LinkedIn-worthy accomplishments, I rehearsed in my mind my proudest accomplishment: “Forgiving my ex-husband. It’s the best gift I have ever given to my sons.”

When my turn came to share my moment of pride, the words came out differently.

“Forgiving my ex-husband. It’s the best gift I have ever given myself.”

Although I wanted to proudly wear my maternal medal of self-sacrifice, ultimately, I knew that forgiveness was personal. My ex-husband's forgiving me was an added gift. Our kids were the lucky secondary recipients.

Laughing while sharing a basket of chips, we had come full circle in our evolution as a family. Scott and my marital status had changed, but our obligations as co-parents had not.

…

Arriving home after last month's whirlwind family reunion, I finally went through the many photos taken that weekend. The one that caught my eye was the one taken at the Mexican restaurant.

The relevance in the picture wasn’t that it was just us. We would have loved to have shared the chip basket and conversation with our spouses and the boys’ significant others. It wasn’t about the sentimentality of being back together. The significance was that it wasn’t a big deal.

Having the five of us together spontaneously end up at a Mexican restaurant felt like the most normal thing in our world.  

Reflecting on our sixteen years post-divorce, I remember the phrase ‘time heals all wounds.’ Although I agree conceptually, I believe true healing goes deeper.

Time heals physical wounds, but people heal the emotional ones.