Divorce really is like a death

I knew it was coming. You can feel the end of your marriage coming.

I remember when my Great Aunt passed away. We went to the hospital because she was sick. She was really, really sick. Then she got better for a few days. Then sick again. It was a little while into her hospital stay that we knew she wouldn’t make it.
My point is, it wasn’t sudden or a shock. There were moments when we thought it would get better but ultimately it didn’t. There was nothing that could be done. My marriage was the same way. Moments that made me feel like maybe things would get better. Maybe.

He was my best friend. My partner. We were a team. I was loud and outgoing. He was quiet and kept to himself. We balanced each other out. Except we didn’t. We loved each other. But I was lost. I think he was too. I’m not really sure we were truly in love but I do know I loved him more at 5 years than at 1 and even more at 7 than at 5. Maybe we were too young to understand what a marriage really was. No one tells you how hard it is. No one tells you the struggles you’ll face.

So there it was. The end or the “death” of my marriage. It was right there. Life as I knew it was dead. And let me tell you, I felt dead. I lost half of me. I lost the only man that ever wanted to snuggle up behind me when I had the flu. I lost the man that knew every little bit of my heart, of my past, he knew every secret I ever had. And he still loved me. He accepted me fully. He saw my crazy and my sad. He saw my depression and my laughter. He grew up with me. He held my hand when that Aunt passed and cried in my arms when his Granny died.

When your marriage is ending all of the wonderful, happy memories surface. They all come flooding back like someone lifted the gates. It’s overwhelming.

The thing with divorce though, is that it doesn’t get to that point because you had such wonderful memories. It gets to that point because something was very wrong. Something was missing. Something made your marriage terminally ill. I’m not going to use this blog to bash him. I was just as at fault as he was. I was tired. I gave up. I felt like I had failed. Miserably. I failed my kids. I failed myself. My family. I should have kept fighting.

Except didn’t he and I deserve to be happy too? And we weren’t. We weren’t happy. I love the beach, he hates the sand. We had settled. At 30 years old we had settled.

So that was that. It was over. Someone that I laid next to every night for 12 years was gone. Gone. Gone.

Divorce is really like a death. The death of one life and the birth of another. And birth is a beautiful, magical, indescribably wonderful thing. Thank God for second chances. Thank God for new beginnings.



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