Monday, August 8, 2011
Mourning the loss
The day my divorce was to be finalized, I woke up to another dark grey sky, the ground wet from rain. The day was almost full of torrential downpours and powerful thunderstorms. After an over ten day stretch of sweltering hot weather, I'm sure many people were happy to see the rain. I wasn't one of them. I figured a little sunshine would've made the day more bearable. I wasn't surprised by the rain though, since today was the day I was to face the burial of my marriage and all that came along with it; hopes, dreams, promises, lies, hurt, betrayal, etc.
The day I got the first legal papers, a few months prior, was harder than I thought. Something about seeing my childrens' names on a legal document broke my heart. "It wasn't supposed to be this way" I thought to myself. On this day, however, I didn't have to go to court to sign anything. I didn't have to face my ex-husband who, at one time, promised to love, honor and be faithful to me. I didn't have to walk into a courthouse and watch a judge take two seconds to sign away almost eight years of my life; both happy times and sad times. I wasn't going to hear the truth about things that were and are kept secret. I wasn't going to get any answers to the countless questions I had.
The only way I could describe my feelings that day would be to compare it what I think it would be like to have a terminally sick relative. You know they are sick and you know their final breath is imminent, but its hard to wrap your mind around the actual threat. Somewhere, deep inside, you hold out hope. The day they actually die, there is considerable sadness but there is also some relief. That's how I felt that day. Over two years went by between the separation and divorce. In a lot of ways, I knew that the marriage was beyond help and I already felt divorced in a lot of ways. Still, the nonchalant email I received from my lawyer's paralegal sealed its fate:
"Dear Mrs. Xxxxx,
I just wanted to let you know that your divorce has been finalized and I have mailed a copy out to you.
Thanks and have a good weekend."
(To which my sarcastic little mind replied, "Oh, you too!")
That day, I had to make a decision in my heart to once again grieve the loss. This time it was final. Like an actual death, there was some sadness and then there was a small sense of closure. That chapter of my life was now over. I could finally exhale.
Just because I have mourned and buried this part of my life doesn't mean I won't ever feel sadness again. Just like I still cry for my mom sometimes, my kids and I will cry over this. As sure as I know my future holds some sadness, I also know it holds good things! Hard times and happy times are on the horizon for my kids and I, and we are not staying at the cemetery!
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