I occasionally wonder if I get overly cutesy trying to coordinate dates and perfectly time events. But today, that accomplishment is totally out of my hands. Exactly six months after moving out, I am officially divorced! In some ways it doesn’t feel real yet, and in others it’s just the final stamp on the life I’ve been living since I left.
I finally cried about the end. I started going through my boxes and belongings today to get ready to move. I divided my books into favorites and those better left to someone else’s shelves. I threw away my teaching materials after years of stockpiling. Then I came across the various documents that signaled our relationship. While I could put some off for the moment, into a pile for another day, the save-the-date announcing “some things are meant to be” along side two people dancing with lampshades on their heads brought a longing. Reading Dad’s wedding speech brought tears. I didn’t just imagine all of this. We made each other happy once. And other people saw it, felt the love between us. Knew something special existed between these two individuals.
But it’s gone now. I haven’t felt it for years. I look at him and can’t believe I once did, but I did. It was wonderful then. Now it’s over.