"I'll be leaving soon.", he said.
"Ok...", was all I could muster in response.
Leaving. Not to go to work or to the store but for good. He was leaving me. I suppose some would find the choice to do this on Mother's Day a rather crappy move on his part, but the reality was that I saw it as just another Mother's Day gift. It was time. No matter how much I tried to wish it wasn't true, to pretend there was some hope, the truth was it was definitely time. The year prior had been sheer hell trying to exist inside the same space as him. So, in a sense, by leaving that day he was giving me a gift. One final gift.
He left without fanfare less than an hour later. I stayed on the third floor while he said good-bye to the kids and then watched his car drive away from a window. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday. I felt a complete sense of... nothing. At that moment I was simply numb. I turned away from the window and went about my day on autopilot.
That was nearly a year ago. Back then I assumed (foolishly) that this year I'd be doing oh so much better. And I guess, to a point, I am. It's less intense than it was then. But I still feel a sense of loss and pain, though not as acute as before. I still cry, often at the most inopportune times. Sometimes there's no reason for the sudden welling of tears in my eyes, other times it's a song or sound or a smell or something that sparks a memory and I'm settling in for a good sob fest. But these episodes are fewer and further between as time goes on. Maybe next year I'll be over it all together.
Someone told me that they'd heard or read that it takes four months for every year of a relationship to "get over it". I have no idea where they found this tidbit of information nor if there is any merit to it but if it does hold any merit I have a good four years of this crap ahead of me. That doesn't exactly make me feel hopeful.
I think there should be a period of time after a couple with kids splits up when they don't have to see each other. At all. Beep at the curb when you arrive to pick the kids up and I'll send them out. Make sure I get child support every month and leave me alone. Don't call me, don't look at me, don't text me. When I come to get them I'll do the beeping and you can send them out. Don't come with them. I want to pretend you don't exist. Because each time I'm forced to interact with you I feel like it all comes rushing back at me. Then I get in a funk and it settles in for several days. If I could just have, say... a year during which I never had to be in the same air space as him I'd be fine. Actually I'd prefer I never had to lay eyes on him again, ever, but I realize that, with six kids, is unrealistic. So I'd take a year. With minimal contact after that.
Logically I know I won't always feel this way. But for now it's my reality. I don't expect anyone to understand it but I do expect that my feelings be respected. He seems to think that because he doesn't understand where I'm coming from he shouldn't have to cater to me. Personally, I think he owes me that much. I'm not going to tell you he's been a complete ass for the last year. He's been an occasional ass. As most men will be from time to time. Just like women are bitches from time to time. He does what he's supposed to do most of the time. He screws up some of the time (as do I). And he tries to be a good Dad. We have moments we get along so well I wonder, to myself, "Why are we getting a divorce???" And there are other moments when I could cheerfully smack him across his smug face. I'm betting he's felt the same way. Touche'.
I've survived the first year. They say that's the hardest. Right? Let's see what the next year brings...