Break

As one might surmise after reading a few of my blog posts, I am no expert on marriage. As for divorce, I cannot even take a baby step toward understanding it. One of these days, I know that I'll wake up and the hurt won't hurt so much, the pain will be just a memory. Yet, I wonder if I'll always feel sorry for the man who left me behind. Not sorry because he lost such a great catch (although he did!), but because he lost hope in the longevity of the marriage. The day of my marriage was the happiest of my life. It was the first time I made a decision and felt with every part of me that it was the right choice. I am close to 100% positive that he felt the same way. What changed?

At the altar, we stood together, holding hands, smiling. We stepped into our first home, holding hands, smiling. We bought our second house, giggling and giddy, holding hands. We talked about having a baby, and we created one (holding hands, smiling, among other things...). The addition of the baby threw us for a loop - we were prepared, but we didn't know. We still held hands and smiled. How could you not? P was beautiful and happy and a mirror image of our dreams. Then, God blesses us with news of T. It was a surprise, but we went with it, making dreams come true by starting a major reconstruction project on the house. I remember standing outside, watching the construction workers, my belly burgeoning, my butt just as big, holding his hand and saying, "I'm happy. Life is good." A short time after that, I couldn't find his hand anymore, and he couldn't find mine, and our smiles were just memories that we clung to in hopes that one day, we'd get them back.

I still have hope. Not that my marriage will work out. It's over. I've accepted that and there is no reluctance anymore. There was, for a long time, there was. But now, I'm good with the future. I clung to my hope for a long time and I believe in marriage. I always will. But he's different. He lost his hope in the marriage, in me and in the longevity of it - the promise of a deeper love. The "promised land" is defined in the dictionary as 'the realization of hopes.' A promise is defined as a "guarantee for engagement", or in other words, something that you just can't break. A "broken promise" is defined in the dictionary of Carrie, as a pain so deep, a memory so surreal, a severed tendon of dreams...

I feel sorry for him because he lost his patience in getting to the promised land. It was within his reach, and he didn't reach for the hand that I held out to him so that we could walk together, smiling. One day, I pray he finds the hand of something or someone that will show him the path to the promised land, and in so doing, he'll understand the pain so deep, the memory so surreal, the severed tendon of dreams... and never, ever do it again.