This could possibly be the most difficult thing I have ever written. Waves of grief, guilt, and love wash over me as I sit to compose this post.
After 23 years of marriage to a wonderful man, I declared that I was unhappy, and told him it was over. In doing so, I nearly destroyed him. He is a good man, he played no part in our demise, other than perhaps taking for granted the fact that I was not feeling fulfilled. I had spent the majority of my life caring for all of those around me. My cup was empty….and when he finally vowed to pour into it, it was too late.
He was my best friend. My roommate. My rock. We raised a family together and I do not regret one moment of the many years we spent together. The only regret that I have is the pain that I caused him in leaving….
Although he was not perfect, I am the villain in this story. Once my heart decided that it was done, I allowed my body to follow. Before my divorce was final, I lived life as a single woman…only adding fuel to the fire of hurt and betrayal. I own that, and I am sorry for it. For 22 years, I was a loving and devoted wife….but none of it matters…because for that last year, I was not.
I will forever love him, and I know he feels the same way. I am glad that we were able to maintain our friendship through the pain and the goodbyes. I wish him nothing but happiness.
Sometimes, when life gets hard, I think of returning to him…to our little farm and our old life….but that life is gone now…that version of me long drifted away, Going back to him because he is a safe place, would do neither of us any favors. There is only one way to go now….forward.