Before I Go

When my marriage ended, there were several minor things that took on huge significance because, contrary to popular belief, being the one left is just as hard as the one being asked to go.

I needed anchors. Right away, I bought a kayak, something I'd always wanted, and a patio set for the yard. Daisy the Wonderdog came inside to sleep that very first night and remained there until she passed away in 2005. She even slept on the bed once or twice.

That year I treated myself to acrylic nails and bought a car and a house entirely on my own. And that is how I eased from reliance to self-reliance and became an Independent.

My sons say, nearly 10 years later, how much calmer and more easy going I am now. I laugh good-naturedly at that, so unaware they are of the complexities of raising three rambunctious boys with a demanding job. It was a Team of One plucking them off the roof, fixing the sprinklers, running to the ER with stitches and broken bones, sweating the bills, and monitoring their school. I really missed life BD (before divorce) but it was a Needs -vs- Wants kind of existence and, frankly, I was grateful just to keep all the balls in the air.

There were catastrophically hard choices to make, the consequences of which are still felt. Moving an hour north had a significant impact as did the boys' choices for college and moving away. In the end, each of us had to shed a lot of the past to make room for the future.

As I pack seven years later, I am surprised by how significant those markers continue to be. I am deeply attached to the house and the accessories accumulated along the way. Some of it will move forward: the iron bed Michael made in high school, David's handwoven scarf and Tim's gumball dispensing machine. I linger here in the half disassembled livingroom, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as I memorize each detail. I will miss it.