My husband and I had separated after eight years of a not very happy marriage. Our children migrated from my house to his, until he and his new wife moved to California and they wanted to go.
They went. They went and never came back.
I’d visit on occasion, but to say we had grown apart would mean that we had once been close, which wasn’t true.
I had a great job which demanded so much of my time, my Ex had a crappy job which he lost. He became the mommy. He stayed home, I went to work.
Eventually, he got a job, a girlfriend who was willing to take care of him, and moved out. The kids loved to be with him because they ran rampant.
As I was rarely home, I couldn’t argue.
So I got an empty house, he got the children. By this time, they weren’t children. They were teenagers, moody, angry demanding teenagers.
I felt I got the better deal.