For my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I collected quarters from each of the 25 years they had been married and created a custom art piece for them. Dad loved it. He raved about the creativity and thoughtfulness it exhibited to his friends and colleagues. Apparently, the number twenty-five stuck with him more permanently than the marriage it represented. My father has been having an affair for over a year with a woman who was born when he was twenty-five. She is my age. After going home last night and telling mom he wanted to try to work on things, tonight he revealed the affair.
I'm angry. So very, very angry. This man is not my father. This is not the man who raised me.