I haven’t been sure how to approach this, and I’m still not sure. But it’s time.
And the only way to get it out is to do what I often talk to others about doing to “get unblocked”:
I need to quit worrying about the right or wrong way to say something, quit worrying about what everyone will think and just get it out. After all, there’s no “pretty” way to say it. And until I get it out, I’m blocked. I can’t write about anything else. Writers often write what’s in their hearts and minds, and right now, this is all there is.
Only a few people know that in the last month, Stephen and I separated. I’ve spent the last weeks moving from the farm and trying to get settled into an apartment.
Today, we are divorced.
I won’t say too much about it. The issues are between Stephen and me. But I will say how sad I am that we didn’t make it. I was sad today to see how quickly a marriage can be signed away. Sad to wonder why when it’s over, you only remember the happy times. Sad that I won’t see my dogs every morning when I wake.
I find it so curiously, amazingly strange that two life events, on such opposite ends of the spectrum happened within an hour of each other yesterday. First, I received a call my from attorney that the paperwork was ready to be signed and everything would be final. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d already told me the process. Still, it caught me off guard.
Less than an hour later, I received an email from the University of Arkansas Press that The Red Kimono had arrived at the dock. This is the book that I worked on through most of Stephen’s and my marriage. The book that I always dreamed of writing. And it arrived as my marriage ended.
I wondered why the timing happened this way. It really is almost unbelievable to me that two life events could intersect so closely to each other. Perhaps it’s a blessing in a way, for each event has tempered the other. It was certainly a blessing that the good news came after the bad.
Each has been a reminder that life is full of sorrows and joys, that once one chapter ends, another begins.