9.06.2011

D-Day: It happened

I'd like to say I have no regrets, but that's just not true.

The divorce was final last Friday, the 2nd.  The day before my birthday.  I didn't make a big deal about it; I only called my mom, sister, and a friend or two after the fact; even less knew it was happening that day.

The entire thing took about 90 seconds.  Rooster came with me and my lawyer because, as he put it, "I've been a part of everything else in this marriage.  I should be a part of its ending, too."

He remained seated in the tiny courtroom, my lawyer and I stood in front of the presiding judge.  My heart pounded and I yelled to myself to calm down and to remember to breathe. 

I didn't cry.

When it was done, I turned around and walked back to Rooster.  His face was fallen, his eyes searching.  He quickly stood up and joined our exit.  Now we had busy work: papers to file, streets to cross, more papers to file. 

We shook hands with Rosemary on the corner outside the courthouse and she went right and Rooster and I went left.  "Where'd you park?"

"Over there," I pointed across the park where a dozen homeless people were milling around beside a white-washed pavilion.

"Wow. That was surreal."

And my throat closed off and my eyes welled up.  All I could do was nod.  "Yes it was," I managed to squeak out.  "See you tomorrow morning at the docks."  We hugged and I lingered in his embrace for a moment longer than I needed.  I'd see him tomorrow to go stand-up paddling.  This wasn't a Big Goodbye.

"Hawk woke up this morning and said he missed you," he gently offered.

"Thanks.  I needed to hear that."

And now I went left and he went right and as I walked by the homeless people at 9 am in 95 degree weather I noticed a rather large topless man with black underwear hanging out of his low-slung pants.  His pale skin dewy with sweat visible from the sidewalk.

"No," I suddenly decided to text Rooster, "What's surreal is seeing a 300 lb, half-naked man glisten with sweat at 9 in the morning and being divorced."

He chortled back and I went and sat in my car for an hour and let hot tears leak down my face as I tried to untangle the vortex of emotions inside of me.  Happy?  Sad?  Relieved?  Numb?

Yep.  Pretty much.

It's done.  We're friends.  We have Hawk.  We survived.

6 comments:

  1. bleh. it moves onward. you move onward, against your will. life is bizarre.

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  2. Thinking of you, Jess. Thank you for continuing to write about your experiences. Similar stuff going down over here too.

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  3. Holy shit. I need a valium. I will share it with you. So many wordless hugs to you, my courageous friend. I stand here in silence to pay homage to your heart that is filled, emptied then refilled with new stuff (good chocolatey indigo cloudy stuff) It's already happening. <3

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  4. ok..first, between work, kids, pregnancy, etc. i have not kept up with my blog reading (and writing has been spotty at best). i am floored. i just spent an hour catching up...i am so hugging you right now (even though we've never met in person). onward and upward, woman....

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  5. Love, I hear you, I've been following this for a while * wish I could meet you, I am going through the same thing, divorce papers being mulled over right now, it will take a while. Geez, it is surreal sometimes. I am really with you, so so much, even if I have never met you. Rebekah

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