Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

I left my husband in September of 1983. I was 28 years old, had two small children,  and absolutely no idea what heartache I was in for by the time Christmas rolled around. For their sake, I tried to put a good face on things. I put up a little Christmas tree in our apartment, bought gifts for them, cuddled and watched all the holiday cartoon specials.

This photo is at my parents’ house. They did not approve of my pending divorce and now that I’m older than they were then, I know why. It’s those two little ones off to the side–now that I’m a grandparent, I understand how protective you feel about your family, especially its smallest members, the ones who have no say so at all in what happens to them and to the people they love. All security is shaken and even though they have smiles on…