Bob and I were doing an easy, but frigid 10 mile taper run when he mentioned the race next weekend. I didn't know what he was talking about, temporarily had I forgotten we were running the Run for Regis next weekend. He thought that cast me as a total running hardcore when I can forget about such a big race that we've been training for these last several weeks. It's not that I'm a hardcore at all, it's the total opposite, since the training is more core to my well-being than my actual performance on race day. Really, if I can just finish half the race without freezing my digits off, eat chili afterward and get to see my running buddies, then I'll be happy. I'm very grateful to Debi this generous gift of running she gave me for my birthday last October when I was probably going through the worst of my slow Band Aide rip divorce.
I've cycled through the stages of grief so many times now, I've settled into a state of numb acceptance that this is really going to happen and I'll be starting a new phase of my life. I've put the decision to finalize the divorce through a hundred different tests, and most say that I'm stupid and my life will be nothing but difficult, but when I put the decision through the ultimate test of the heart--to thine own self be true--the results are that I need to put closure to this, rip off the damn Band Aide already and get on to letting my wounds heal. I keep busy and that's easier now that I've gone full time at the work cave. Still, every once in awhile, like today, I have too much time to think about stuff. Desperately trying to avoid the neighborhood of my head, I planned things to do to fill up the hours and keep me busy. The kids and the very soon to be ex are off at some family thing I thought better to stay away from. So, I cleaned my apartment and listened to my Ipod. I cleaned toilets and sucked debris out of my dusty apartment corners with the vacuum extension, blotting out loneliness with music from one of my son's playlists. Then there it was: Death Cab for Cutie--two songs back to back, that I know must remind my son of the month his parents separated because we played Death Cab constantly, and now here it was again, these two songs which will forever make me think of the year we acknowledged our marriage was ailing. Mike even stopped me once and told me to listen to the lyrics because it reminded him of us, which was so typical of my very emotional husband that struggled, always, to express his emotions and found it easier to do so through music. He pointed out Marching Bands of Manhattan where, like our marriage Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole Just like a facuet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound But while the debate is half empty or half full It slowly rises: our love is gonna drown
Hearing these songs catapulted me headfirst into an emotional morass which lasted through church, so afterward, I decided to go to the mall and window shop. Now, me and malls usually don't go together. If you read my other blog, Red's Cheap Spot, you'll quickly discover that Red walking down wide mall corridors window shopping is about as typical as a Kangaroo on an iceberg. I didn't buy a damn thing, of course, except for large gyro from the food court Greek guy. I walked around the mall two times and thought about my divorce hearing coming up in a few weeks.
How to bring closure at our court hearing? I hear it's over in 10 minutes or less--the actual divorce. It's dry and cursory. Dead dogs get a warmer parting than most dead marriages. I wish there could be some kind of closure ceremony, but I'm sure the judge would think I'm a loon if I ask to read this. I found this in a book, Life after Divorce: Create a New Beginning, by Sharon Wegscheider-Cruise. I've revised some parts of it to fit our marriage. What do you think? Maybe I'll ask if I can to read it to give the parting of our marriage a little dignity. Let him go ahead and think I'm a loon.
Our Divorce Ceremony
On this day we come together, with some sadness, to accept that our marriage is dissolved. On June 25th, 1988, in Akron, OH, we were married. We thought on that day we were entering a marriage that would be permanent. We had hopes, plans and fears.
What we didn’t know and didn’t plan on is that we each came to our marriage with parts of ourselves unknown. These unknowns prevented us from seeing ourselves clearly and also kept us from getting to know one another. As we have grown and changed, we did not grow together.
We have tried to give each other love, comfort and support. We did not set out to hurt one another. We realize we each made mistakes and in the end wish to forgive each other for the pain that we caused one another.
After 21 years together, we admit defeat. We are not defeated as two individuals; we are simply defeated in making this union work.
We have made a decision to obtain a divorce. Each of us will find a way to heal and will work to forge a new relationship as two effective co-parents to our children, Nick and Olivia, and as special friends who share a long and important history that we do not wish to forget.
We ask forgiveness of each other. We have forgiven ourselves and ask that our families and our friends support our decision.
The Serenity Prayer God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.