Divorced

Seriously, what's really been going on is that after nearly two years of being separated, I got officially divorced on April 29th. It's as close to a orchestrating your own funeral as I've ever come. It's car-crash-frightening on some metaphorical level, and I ask forgiveness of those who've suffered real car crash loss, since divorce is only a paper crash and nothing near what they have experienced. So I guess I should say "it's tumultuous" as a better way to describe it. But actually, to be fair, there's no good way to describe it. And I haven't wanted to describe it. I've wanted to move on.

The white chalk lines of the bodies of a family are drawn on hard black asphalt outside the Cambridge Courthouse, and I pray for days of rain and some sun to wash the whole mess away. We had an accident. We all got injured. I try to understand what happened, was there something I could have done at the last minute, some way to drive the car of my marriage more expertly to avert the whole thing, but I think not. Credit where credit is due, the divorce was something I initiated, and still do believe it had to be done, but that seems like a long time ago -- a time when the idea of divorce made sense and seemed a better way to stay alive than suffering on in a marriage that was dead. Still, I know it hurt a lot of people, including me, and only wish for healing all around.