“Oh, my husband? I fired him!”

When Christel divorced her husband, she was expected to fall into a ditch and become more than a fulsome, grizzly member of the lemon-lipped ‘divorced women’s club’. Instead, she made a vow that she would stay sane for her children and those around her, uttering nothing negative about anyone and forging herself forward, into a new space.

A quarter of a century had collapsed around her, but the memory of her parent’s failed marriage held her focus - she was not going to embody any bitterness or repeat the mistakes she had witnessed as a teenager. Many waited for her to launch an attack and were disappointed and confused when she was prepared to walk away without retribution, an action that would have blackened every precious memory.

Christel worried: she knew that every step and every word would be witnessed and recorded by their sons; she loathed the absence of thought in parents, creating such heartache in their children whilst absorbed in their grief. Marriage, or in this case, the end of her marriage, was about all of their lives, the lives of four people (and three dogs).

Today, harmony reigns–she recalls her mission fulfilled and a triumph.

You cannot extinguish a family.