Two days, two wedding invitations… ‘Tis the season of love, or at least the time of year when Save the Date notices of June weddings find their way into our mailboxes.
With the long-awaited coming of Spring, this girl’s social calendar will see more action. No one really wants to go outside when it’s sub-zero and the city officials advise us to stay off of the roads for safety’s sake. With the spring thaw, my car will finally be free of its icy prison, the driveway (aka skating rink) will melt, roads won’t be as treacherous, and people everywhere will venture beyond their natural winter hibernation.
Spring is the time to emerge. Even now I can hear my snowdrops and daffodils poking through the ground under the drifts of snow in the backyard.
Spring is the time to play in Nature. Getting outside means mowing the lawn, working in dirt, planting lettuce, and picking asparagus.
I’ll also have to face the countdown to my pending divorce. Time stops for no (wo)man.
With my increased socialization, the thought crossed my mind: How can I quickly – and efficiently – impart the news of Husband #2’s decision to leave our marriage? Should I go as detailed as stating we had a difference of opinion in our relationship goal? While he wanted a part-time girlfriend, I was more interested in a full-time husband… Does that raise more uncomfortable questions that I just don’t feel like answering? Especially with those who haven’t earned the right to bear my story?
Maybe it would be better to shrug and turn away, leaving people to fill in their own blanks.
I feel no need to blab to every curious ear, telling some sad victim story about how he done me wrong. Neither do I feel the urge to spill uncomfortable guilt and shame on someone who might not care all that much… I’ve already confessed my sins here, in personal therapy, and to Husband #2. I’m living with the consequences of my actions but, more importantly, I’m actively changing who I am so I don’t repeat past mistakes.
It would be easy. He’s at an age now where heart attacks, cancer, and stroke are acceptable, believable forms of demise. People will shake their heads, sadly murmur that he “died so young” in his early 60’s and let it go at that.
It’s not like anyone will accidentally bump into Husband #2 on the street. He’s far removed, in a small town off the beaten path, not even serviced by a major interstate… the kind of place you end up only if you purposely aim for it. He and I (or anyone else for that matter) will never cross paths like Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn at the end of The Break-up. He’s that isolated.
Telling others that Husband #2 has died will solve another problem – that of well-meaning friends thinking I need to get back on the horse as quickly as possible. For some reason, my desire to hang back, get whole, and continue to improve is looked upon with puzzlement. Why wouldn’t I want to open myself to a new relationship immediately? My friends wonder and push…
With divorce, it seems that healing means jumping into new love as soon as possible. With death, it seems that an acceptable quiet time on one’s own is expected.
With death, those well-meaning souls would understand my respectful period of mourning and not push so hard to fix me up with their second cousin, recently divorced brother-in-law, or perpetually single friend. I’m sure they are all very nice men but I’m not looking to torture someone with a rebound relationship just yet. I’m still yawning into my margarita.
Yes, with 700 miles separating us, what’s another 6 feet under?