Monday, August 8, 2011

Mourning the loss

Psalm 71:20-21
20 Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
   you will again bring me up.
21 You will increase my honor
   and comfort me once again.

It has rained at almost every funeral I've ever been to.  I was only seven years old at the time, but I can still remember the day of my mother's burial.  My mind can still picture being inside the black limousine, watching the rain fall in sheets outside the window.  There was a dark grey sky and a cold chill in the air.  Depressing, and rightfully so, because my mother was only 38 years old.  She was a wonderful, godly woman and loved by all those around her.  My sister and I were only five and seven.  It wasn't fair. No mother should miss out on raising her children and no child should miss out on having their mother around. 

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!


  1. Thank you, Sarah.
    Although it hurt me to read this post, I was so encouraged by the opening Scripture. I love your last sentence: "Hard times and happy times are on the horizon for my kids and I, and we are not staying at the cemetery!"

  2. This is what I continue to remind myself each day:Hard times and happy times are on the horizon for my kids and I, and we are not staying at the cemetery!
    Thank you for sharing Sarah. Your words are more than powerful and always seem to touch me.

    ~Elizabeth Sullivan

  3. Dearest Sara,

    You are an AMAZING person and I am truly blessed to have you as my niece.

    The future holds many blessings for you and your children.

    we Love U and the kids........

  4. Once again brave brave woman on God you are! I know you mama is looking down with all of heavens host very prod of you and cheering you and this gorgeous kids of your on.

    I know what you mean on that you will still have sadness and mourn for what you have lost when the marriage "died". My mother and bother and I still do just isnt the same, but God thankfully is always the same, and he has been my strong hold of my life.

    routing for you guys! un abrazo fuerte!

  5. I totally understand everyword. It's like I woke up one day and was living in my worst nightmare! I many a times spoke those same words- it's not fair. This isn't what I planned for in my life. Ending a marriage is hard. Especially when you have small children. It took me along time to see things the way you described in your blog. If it wasn't for God grabing ahold of me and healing all this wounds, I can not say where I'd be right now. This is a great thing your doing here as others can see a light at the end of the long dark divorce tunnel. God bless
    You and the kids.

  6. Putting things 'to rest' is hard, even when it's for the best. You're allowed to mourn this loss. How could you not? And as always, you end on a positive note - inspirational! (hug)


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