A year ago my life was normal.
A year ago my wife and I slept in the same bed.
A year ago I rode in the same vehicle to church with my family.
A year ago I didn't know the horror that lurked around the corner.
A year ago I was days from disaster and didn't know it.
If I knew a year ago what I know now, I would change everything about everything to make everything better.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Elevator
At work there is an elevator. You can choose UL (Upper Level) or LL (Lower Level). Not much of a choice. Not much of a ride. But it gives me a few moments alone. I have learned I can cry or release a sob of anguish and recover as if nothing's wrong before the doors open. I've got it down to a science... timing my grief just long enough to get the effect of my anguish without jeopardizing my feelings in public.
Sometimes, it's just the simple things in life where private meets public life that makes it all worthwhile. The ability to release the grief into the atmosphere unobstructed and unobserved in a public place where I spend much of my time.
It's almost a naughty way of saying, "I can cry at work if I want to. I can think about you if I want to. I can be insanely sad if I want to and you can't stop me with your new life of separation from me."
Just me and my elevator. Who would have thunk such a simple device would create such solace, albeit brief and sporatic?
Perhaps if I had a longer elevator commute, my grief would develop to the unbearable stage. As it is, the brevity affords insulation from debilitating breakdowns and the cumbersome climb to stability and normalcy which follow.
Sometimes, it's just the simple things in life where private meets public life that makes it all worthwhile. The ability to release the grief into the atmosphere unobstructed and unobserved in a public place where I spend much of my time.
It's almost a naughty way of saying, "I can cry at work if I want to. I can think about you if I want to. I can be insanely sad if I want to and you can't stop me with your new life of separation from me."
Just me and my elevator. Who would have thunk such a simple device would create such solace, albeit brief and sporatic?
Perhaps if I had a longer elevator commute, my grief would develop to the unbearable stage. As it is, the brevity affords insulation from debilitating breakdowns and the cumbersome climb to stability and normalcy which follow.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Delayed Divorce Decision
Sunday before last my family left for church and I was getting ready to leave for work when I came across something that struck me like a gunshot wound. "The court hearing is at 8:30 a.m. Wednesday and John doesn't seem interested," I read my wife's handwriting.
Doesn't seem interested? I had no idea my divorce was coming up within 72 hours and I hadn't known!
I scrambled out the side door like a wounded animal, howling in agony as the family dog, familiar with my pained expressions, ducked out of the way. The tormented cadence of my cries rang sent my shoulders to lurching with each heave of emotion. The wailing and tears continued as I drove to work, punching in anguished texts to those closest to me.
God, the pain was too much. It was as if the weight of depression and hopelessness drowned out everything else.
I made it to work, but got caught in spasms of hyperventilation. At times I had to walk away. I was on the phone with my brother in Colorado, pouring out my heart as my guts went queasy with disbelief. I was getting divorced, she was pulling the trigger, and I wouldn't have even known!
Monday I asked her what was going on. She told me she hadn't heard about the hearing until Friday when she called her lawyer. When was he going to tell her?
What is this guy, collect the money and run? I got notice in a certified letter last year about a small claims deal; I got notice when my sister thought I was a threat to her a year ago, but I don't get notice of my own divorce?
I called her lawyer Monday morning. Twice. No answer. Until 3:06 p.m. when I was out. The kids came home from school and I went somewhere with them. When I got home at 7:15 p.m., I discovered the message from the lawyer's secretary.
Nice. Too late for a response, even though I called just in case.
Tuesday, I got hold of the law office. The secretary confirmed the divorce was set for the next morning.
Thanks.
Wednesday, I called my best friend Marv. I needed his support. He said he'd meet me at the courtroom.
I went in and found my wife, the one I adore, the one I pledged to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, til death do us part, forever and ever Amen.
She looked good. She was reading a book on the Kindle I bought her for Mother's Day.
I sat near her, one empty seat between us. Only one other couple in the waiting area, far away. Their woman lawyer came up and was talking to them.
"Where is everyone?" I asked Shannon.
"They'll be here," she said, as if she came here every week for a divorce.
We made small talk about her Kindle, two people without a care in the world, by the looks of us. I wondered if she would go out for lunch with me afterwards. I didn't dare ask.
It just felt weird, her being there and me being there, supposed to be getting a divorce after 18 years and four kids.
Her lawyer showed up. Nice of him. "There's the man of the hour," I breathed.
He went to the courtroom, motioning for Shannon to stay put. He returned momentarily, motioned her in, and came back momentarily, and motioned me in.
The other couple with the woman lawyer were the only other ones. We were first. Marv wasn't there yet. I thought it would be crowded and we wouldn't know how long a wait to expect.
Our case was first. I sat at the opposite table from my wife, who sat by her lawyer. I waited, wondering what I would actually say.
Her lawyer asked to speak with Shannon privately and I sat back in the pews. But this was nothing like church.
The other lady, who turned out to be with her father, came forward with her woman lawyer. The judge came in and the court recorder followed.
The woman was sworn in and testified that her no good husband was in the Greene County Jail and she was gonna get a divorce. She got one.
Then it was my turn.
Shannon's lawyer got first crack. He handed me a notice of divorce with pages of writing.
He told the judge my wife "desperately wanted a divorce so she could get on with her life" and that I hadn't responded in the 30 days allowed and was therefore in default.
I told the judge I hadn't responded because I was working on reconciliation, not termination. I told him I believed reconciliation was probable and I hadn't put energy into the terms of divorce, but that I didn't agree with the parenting plan and my wife's request for sole custody.
The judge granted me a 15-day continuance, telling me, "You've got another bite at this apple. I suggest you seek legal counsel."
I thanked him and left the courtroom ahead of my wife and her lawyer without a word. Marv wasn't even here yet, and it was already over. For now. I was glad to not be divorced, but I felt like a dirty dog for getting what I wanted. I felt like I somehow had betrayed my wife by not granting her everything she wanted. Weird.
Doesn't seem interested? I had no idea my divorce was coming up within 72 hours and I hadn't known!
I scrambled out the side door like a wounded animal, howling in agony as the family dog, familiar with my pained expressions, ducked out of the way. The tormented cadence of my cries rang sent my shoulders to lurching with each heave of emotion. The wailing and tears continued as I drove to work, punching in anguished texts to those closest to me.
God, the pain was too much. It was as if the weight of depression and hopelessness drowned out everything else.
I made it to work, but got caught in spasms of hyperventilation. At times I had to walk away. I was on the phone with my brother in Colorado, pouring out my heart as my guts went queasy with disbelief. I was getting divorced, she was pulling the trigger, and I wouldn't have even known!
Monday I asked her what was going on. She told me she hadn't heard about the hearing until Friday when she called her lawyer. When was he going to tell her?
What is this guy, collect the money and run? I got notice in a certified letter last year about a small claims deal; I got notice when my sister thought I was a threat to her a year ago, but I don't get notice of my own divorce?
I called her lawyer Monday morning. Twice. No answer. Until 3:06 p.m. when I was out. The kids came home from school and I went somewhere with them. When I got home at 7:15 p.m., I discovered the message from the lawyer's secretary.
Nice. Too late for a response, even though I called just in case.
Tuesday, I got hold of the law office. The secretary confirmed the divorce was set for the next morning.
Thanks.
Wednesday, I called my best friend Marv. I needed his support. He said he'd meet me at the courtroom.
I went in and found my wife, the one I adore, the one I pledged to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, til death do us part, forever and ever Amen.
She looked good. She was reading a book on the Kindle I bought her for Mother's Day.
I sat near her, one empty seat between us. Only one other couple in the waiting area, far away. Their woman lawyer came up and was talking to them.
"Where is everyone?" I asked Shannon.
"They'll be here," she said, as if she came here every week for a divorce.
We made small talk about her Kindle, two people without a care in the world, by the looks of us. I wondered if she would go out for lunch with me afterwards. I didn't dare ask.
It just felt weird, her being there and me being there, supposed to be getting a divorce after 18 years and four kids.
Her lawyer showed up. Nice of him. "There's the man of the hour," I breathed.
He went to the courtroom, motioning for Shannon to stay put. He returned momentarily, motioned her in, and came back momentarily, and motioned me in.
The other couple with the woman lawyer were the only other ones. We were first. Marv wasn't there yet. I thought it would be crowded and we wouldn't know how long a wait to expect.
Our case was first. I sat at the opposite table from my wife, who sat by her lawyer. I waited, wondering what I would actually say.
Her lawyer asked to speak with Shannon privately and I sat back in the pews. But this was nothing like church.
The other lady, who turned out to be with her father, came forward with her woman lawyer. The judge came in and the court recorder followed.
The woman was sworn in and testified that her no good husband was in the Greene County Jail and she was gonna get a divorce. She got one.
Then it was my turn.
Shannon's lawyer got first crack. He handed me a notice of divorce with pages of writing.
He told the judge my wife "desperately wanted a divorce so she could get on with her life" and that I hadn't responded in the 30 days allowed and was therefore in default.
I told the judge I hadn't responded because I was working on reconciliation, not termination. I told him I believed reconciliation was probable and I hadn't put energy into the terms of divorce, but that I didn't agree with the parenting plan and my wife's request for sole custody.
The judge granted me a 15-day continuance, telling me, "You've got another bite at this apple. I suggest you seek legal counsel."
I thanked him and left the courtroom ahead of my wife and her lawyer without a word. Marv wasn't even here yet, and it was already over. For now. I was glad to not be divorced, but I felt like a dirty dog for getting what I wanted. I felt like I somehow had betrayed my wife by not granting her everything she wanted. Weird.
Friday, March 11, 2011
I miss you
I miss you when I wake
I miss you when I lie down
I miss you all the times between
I remember holding you
I remember how you felt
I remember more than I forget
Now I live with my regret.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Kiss
It wasn't a Hollywood, "exploitive" smooch. Just a warm greeting of the lips and a suggestion of how she tastes. A warm shiver (can one shiver warmly?) tickled through my being. I knew this was the start of the remaking of the best love story I've ever lived.
I could almost hear a distant melody in the background; birds were chirping, spring springing and flowers blooming. Perhaps this was a euphoric Hollywood induced romantic moment, with the hope of an enchanted forever attached. Whatever it was, I was there and there was no stopping it.
Until I woke up.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Road Kill Count
Driving today along highway 14 for a stretch of 15 miles, I saw the following road kill:
Opossums: 0
Armadillos 0
Squirrels: 0
Rabbits: 1
Dogs: 1
Skunks 12
Not sure if it's open season on the stinky black and whites, but they far outnumber their fellow road kill species. For a five mile stretch in particular, just west of Sparta, they skunk carcasses (carcai?) were thick enough to be within sight of each other.
A nighttime migratory massacre.
Opossums: 0
Armadillos 0
Squirrels: 0
Rabbits: 1
Dogs: 1
Skunks 12
Not sure if it's open season on the stinky black and whites, but they far outnumber their fellow road kill species. For a five mile stretch in particular, just west of Sparta, they skunk carcasses (carcai?) were thick enough to be within sight of each other.
A nighttime migratory massacre.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
"Daddy, can you tuck me in?"
My 10-year-old son wants me to tuck him in with a prayer and a kiss each night. He came to the kitchen where his mother and I were dissolving into a disagreement. She dismissed him, saying, "Daddy will be in in about 5 or 10 minutes."
The little guy went off to dreamland, waiting for me as the argument dragged on. My wife doesn't let me sleep in our house anymore. It's complicated. But the next morning, I am expected to return by 6 a.m. when she leaves for work. This being a Saturday morning, I returned and fell back asleep since the kids didn't have school. About 6:30 a.m., my 10-year-old awakened to go to the bathroom. He stuck his head in and said, "Daddy, has it been more than 5 or 10 minutes?"
Instantly, I knew he had no idea what time it was. It was still dark out, so he may have thought half an hour or so had gone by. Not having the heart to tell him I'd forgotten in the aftermath of an argument the night before, I quietly slipped into his bedroom and whispered a prayer. "Dear Lord, be with Mark. Give him a good night's sleep. Thank you for the fun we had today at Grandma's birthday party. Give Mark a good day tomorrow at his Bible quiz. In Jesus' Name, Amen."
I gave him a peck on the cheek, and before falling back asleep, he asked, "How long has it been?"
I hesitated. "I'll see you in the morning, son," I said, and walked out.
The little guy went off to dreamland, waiting for me as the argument dragged on. My wife doesn't let me sleep in our house anymore. It's complicated. But the next morning, I am expected to return by 6 a.m. when she leaves for work. This being a Saturday morning, I returned and fell back asleep since the kids didn't have school. About 6:30 a.m., my 10-year-old awakened to go to the bathroom. He stuck his head in and said, "Daddy, has it been more than 5 or 10 minutes?"
Instantly, I knew he had no idea what time it was. It was still dark out, so he may have thought half an hour or so had gone by. Not having the heart to tell him I'd forgotten in the aftermath of an argument the night before, I quietly slipped into his bedroom and whispered a prayer. "Dear Lord, be with Mark. Give him a good night's sleep. Thank you for the fun we had today at Grandma's birthday party. Give Mark a good day tomorrow at his Bible quiz. In Jesus' Name, Amen."
I gave him a peck on the cheek, and before falling back asleep, he asked, "How long has it been?"
I hesitated. "I'll see you in the morning, son," I said, and walked out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)