No more “I love you’s”

Oh, sweetie darlings, my heart is breaking. Nothing compared to the pain one of my oldest, dearest, nearest, till-death-do-us-part friends is feeling, of course. Like death, divorce might not come as a total shock and surprise, but once the decision is made and final the torment isn’t over no matter how relieved you feel that the push and pull, the fighting, the on-off-and-on-again misery-go-round is over.

Like in the death of someone close, you are required to keep a level head and start taking care of business when what you really need is a cabin in the woods and some privacy to sort out yourself first. But there is no time, and not all divorces are friendly, let’s-do-this-in-an-adult-fashion affairs; many (most?) are the result of a long period of infighting where the road to reconciliation crumbled along the way and neither partner has the will or strength to begin construction anew. Separate ways, then, new roads and vistas.

She has been accused of being strong (accused! sweetie darlings, as if strength were a handicap; is it, in women? is that what those men were saying?) and will now put all that resilience of hers to good use, I’m sure. But strong doesn’t mean impervious, cold-hearted or flippant. She will need her friends and family every soul-searing step of the way. So will he, and my godson, a family blowing apart.

It happens all the time, I know. I’m just so fucking sorry and saddened it had to happen to them.