Picking up the Pieces

It was an odd day for me. Yesterday, my car wouldn’t start. I nearly forgot about it till I saw my ex revving my car engine in the driveway. Apparently, he found some jumper cables and got up in the morning to see if he could get the engine to turn over. Without warning, I was struck by grief.

Images of our early relationship flashed through my mind. Like the time he weather stripped the door of my apartment so I wouldn’t get cold or bought new tires for my car because they were bald and he didn’t want me to have an accident. I’m not sure why he bothered this morning to help me. Perhaps it was so I wouldn’t ask to borrow his car again or maybe he is still driven by a long held role to protect and care for me. I’m not really sure.

But listening to him tell me how I needed to let the car run for a few minutes and then take it for a short drive flooded me with a wave of emotion. It was raw. I didn’t see it coming. I suppose this is why they call divorce a roller coaster ride. I started to cry.

I cried for the loss of dreams. I cried because it’s not simple or easy to shut off years of emotion one holds for a person. I cried because if I could, I would rather my marriage have worked. I spent the day with this wave of grief occasionally hitting me. It hit me at odd moments. I would remember bits and pieces of our life together. The good times. The hopes I had he would be able to love me as I needed. The desire for him to change and love and accept my son the way my son needed.

I didn’t know how to handle this grief at first. I suppose this is natural. What I realized by the end of the day was the grief I felt at the loss of the dream wasn’t nearly as painful as the heartache I suffered through our marriage. My dreams for our life together never matched the reality of it. Those glimpses of our past – the waves of grief – never came with the memories of the pain that existed when I was rejected by him. The memories were never followed up with the images of the nights of crying and pleading with him to love me.

To get through it, I had to remind myself today that it was okay to grieve. And that even though I wished I had a magic wand to wave over him and cause him to act and love me the way I needed, life doesn’t come with a magic wand. They don’t exist. So reality must be faced. And life, as is, must continue.

Part of me would like to keep this grief private. But I know many of you are sharing this journey with me. Some of you are or have experienced similar trauma. I want you to know you aren’t alone. I want you to know it’s okay to grieve. It’s just a part of picking up the pieces.