Sometimes, most times, you wish it was the love story. They say it was learned from Disney but then my niece looks at me and says that she still wishes we would get back together. Even she knows marriage was never supposed to end. I gave him back the wedding rings. It was the right thing to do.
I went to church with him on Sunday. Then it happened. An automatic plea,”God if there is any way to salvage this marriage, Please heal this. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want to be with him. Please help!!” Tears dripped as they often do. After church the guy who baptized my now no longer husband came up to us. He knew nothing of the divorce. He smiled, “If you learn to say yes dear to your wife and if you learn to respect your husband you can make it.”
“How long did it take you?” I asked.
“Ten to fifteen years.”
We went back to the trailer. We sat on the bed. I turned to him, “You have had nearly six years of my life. You were my husband. Every day when you got home I was always excited to see you. I never minded you working all the time. It was just something in you when you got home didn’t seem to want me. Sleeping by seven pm every anniversary. I know you tried. I know you loved me in your own way. I wish you had set more boundaries with me.” A sigh of silence, I continued, “When I leave this time I will be believing this is totally finished and it just makes me sad.” More tears. More sighs. “The path has changed.” More tears. “I believed or I think I believed we would be together the rest of our lives.”
He took a breath, “I think you do need to think it is over. Memories are there but they are just there. Things change. Next year will be a new beginning. Its time for you to go now.”
He left the room for a moment. My heart hurting and questioning everything. I was ready to leave but wishing I wanted to stay. A prayer, “God did he even love me at all? Did he ever? Show me the truth please?”
He walked back in the bedroom. He had written out a check to a dear friend of mine. A person who could use some financial help. A person that he had no real attachment too. He handed it to me. “Think this is enough?” He did love me in his own way. I walked out of the trailer.
I got in the car to leave. I looked up. He was smiling at me from the porch. The porch that he built. The porch that I sat under when it rained. The place where the children would come and tell me their secrets. The porch that he was selling. He was selling the trailer.
I got out of the car smiling back at him.
“I have to do something, I have to kiss you. We have too!”
He giggled a nervous laugh.
“We can go inside.”
I was facing him. The Mexican prince. His brown skin and black eyes. His slim build. The scars behind his eyes.
He was still giggling, “No, here is okay.”
I kissed him. He kissed me.
I felt nothing.
He felt nothing.
I got back in my car and drove away. My heart hurt more but there was a peace.
“God I am leaving this behind. If I left my life partner, do all in your power to bring us back together and if not give me high discernment on the next man in my life. I am trusting you with this.”
As I left the city and my car hit the highway, a desire began to bubble that I had never felt before, “Maybe I will travel the world.” The next day I came across a few sentences from a journal back in 2013:
“I saw him this weekend. We didn’t talk much. Is it just me for wanting things? Do I want too much passion?”
I can’t believe my marriage is over. It is sealed, complete, over.
It is dead…