Week 37 – 01 June 2012
Last weekend my husband and I had a coffee and said good-bye.
I had previously written how after he left me my husband had wanted to remain friends. I was finding that difficult. Eventually I had told him that I could not, that he would have to let me go. The process of telling him of this involved detaching emotionally from him and disentangling myself from the coupledom we had had and the life we had shared. Over the following five months I learned through the children that he was finding lack of contact with me as a friend difficult and he pined for a last coffee with me. As he was due to leave for a 12 months stint wandering the globe and as I had healed to a degree, the week before he left – although too early in some ways for me – I agreed to that last coffee.
We met at the scheduled coffee shop and we were respectful of one another, whilst agreeing to disagree on some matters. It was, however, still very sad and there were tears all round. Then we said good-bye as a couple……. forever. Life would never be the same.
As I drove away I thought that maybe I was wrong. I was wrong to assume that he would want the happy-ever-after illusion like me because in the end it was just that – an illusion. I was wrong to assume that what I wanted – the growing old of two people, remembering together all the triumphs and tragedies, of sharing the children and grandchildren, of caring for one another and helping each other in their golden years, of going on new adventures together – I was wrong to assume that that was what he wanted too. I was wrong to assume that what we had was worth fighting for when he didn’t. I was wrong to assume that what we had had and what we could have in the future was worthwhile in order to save our marriage. I felt that it was. He chose otherwise. His choice. Not mine.
As I drove home, I accepted that my assumptions had been wrong. I let go of my assumptions. I let go of the illusions. I let go of us.
I returned home … alone again.
The day was strange for me because I thought that I would become overwhelmed with heart-breaking sadness and I did not. I readily busied myself and generally potted about. I made contact with my mother and some close friends and there was excitement in my voice as I spoke with them.
The pain was gone. That heavy ache that had been weighing me down had been lifted from my shoulders.
Is this closure?
Or is it freedom?
Later in the day I got stuck into some trivial domestic chores …….. and one thing I noticed
……..I was singing.