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The End Has Come…Finally
Just in time for the New Year
It’s not the zombie apocalypse, to be sure. That would be far more exciting, I expect. This is the result of decades of low, simmering pain, nothing worthy of an IMAX movie experience. The term “slow violence” has been given another meaning. But this, what I have lived and am still living, is that as well.
Because at age 22, he took a sweet, naive, innocent, and happy farmgirl from the Midwest and made promises.
He promised to care for her, be there for her, love her, see her through the good and bad, the happy and sad moments.
He said he was ready…he had done all of the progressing he could on his own and he was ready to see what marriage could offer. I shit you not…he said this. I overheard and was confused. And that confusion followed me for the next 25 years.
Today, it has been 5 days since the final decree. I woke up crying, as I have for hundreds of mornings since the divorce blew up in my face two years ago.
Today, however, I am driving to the post office to send my wedding dress to be made into burial gowns for the grieving parents of stillborn babies. I had a tragic miscarriage a long time ago and can just imagine their pain.
