The end

Six months, four days.

It felt never-ending at times. Like an entire lifetime was passing by. Hamsters running, running, running yet going nowhere on a wheel that spins in place.

But it only took six months, four days to end fifteen years.

I could feel his head turn, his eyes - heavy with sadness - set on me, waiting to hear my answer as the judge asked me one last time:

"Do you see anyway that the two of you can resolve your issues?"

I felt weighted with guilt as though both our futures rested on my answer alone; as though everything that had led up to this point had been up to me and me only, when really, if I could have fixed this I would have. I couldn't. We didn't.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him. Things I wanted to tell him. To let him know that I was sad too. But anything I could possibly say or try to explain, well, it just wouldn't count anymore.

It wasn't what I expected - to be willing away tears and choking back emotion - when hearing the judge dissolve what took us fifteen years to create. Despite the moments of lashing out and anger, tense arguments and disgreements, the finality of it all felt heavy and sad. While at times throughout the emotionally-wearing process I yearned to hear those words - The End - the truth is, I never imagined having to hear them at all. I didn't get married to get divorced; I never expected to go from Man and Wife to Petitioner and Respondent and what went from intimate and ours instantly went to separate and strangely cold with the stamp of a judge's seal.

It isn't about regret or remorse over ending what couldn't continue; it is grieving over the fact that it had to end at all; that those whimsical - perhaps naive - ideals that we started out with turned out to be impractical and unattainable for us.

The judge was waiting for my answer.

I stared at the microphone, my vision blurring and making it two and I felt claustrophobic in my own skin.

"No, Your Honor."

His head turned away from me. He never looked at me again. Not as we left the court room or awkwardly shared an elevator with our attorneys down to the lobby or as we exited the courthouse. And for the first time, it truly felt like the end.

Comments

[monstergirlee]

Hugs. Hugs.

[Carmen]

I'm so sorry.

[Shnerfle]

I'm sorry it had to end, that you had to say the words, that such things happen at all, bit for your sake, I'm glad the proccess has concluded. Turn your eyes to the horizon and begin anew, my friend.

[Mom2jazz]

((HUGS))

[avasmommy]

Oh babe. I so get every single word of that. So beautifully written.

I know that all the heartache, and pain aren't worth becoming a better writer, but you've really grasped the emotions with words so very very well.

Hugs to you, love. And it may be the end of one thing. But it's the beginning of something else.

[MsDarkstar]

This:
"It isn't about regret or remorse over ending what couldn't continue; it is grieving over the fact that it had to end at all; that those whimsical - perhaps naive - ideals that we started out with turned out to be impractical and unattainable for us."

Totally encapsulates why I cried after I left Court on the day of my divorce.

Facebook quote-worthy in my opinion.

I'm sorry you've had to go through this and wish you the very best life has to offer going forward.

[Lesley @Avalea]

Beautifully written. ((Hugs)) xoxo

[briya]

love you <3

[Kater]

So sorry Megan. I've quietly followed you for years and hate to see you at this point in your life. I can only hope that the future hold a buttload of happiness and surprises.

I have to say that I contemplate this very course myself. Almost daily. And to hear the reality of it does make me rethink and rededicate myself. So thank you for sharing your journey.

[Sassy Pants]

My heart aches for you today.
My Ex and I had the very same feelings, the heavy sadness of letting go of what we dreamed we would be...

I actually think this pain is very very common, but if someone had tried to warn you, to explain it to you, you never would have believed them. I know I didn't.

So, divorce surviver to another, my heart aches for you today. Tomorrow, it will celebrate!

[Issa]

A million hugs darling.

Here's to your new beginning. *raises up ice cream*

[Lex]

Love you, Megan.

[PrincessJenn]

I'm so sorry. HUGS

[brianne]

Wow! Amazingly written, u had me welling up and with tears flowing, I am so sorry but this is the beginning of something new, xoxo

[Corey]

Thank you for sharing this. It is beautifully written... I'm so sorry that you have to be intimately acquainted with this pain.

[OHmommy]

Hugs.

[~a]

Hugs.

[NoObviousWrong]

Beautifully written. Made me imagine that this is what my parent went through.

[Chibi Jeebs]

So, so much love and big, fat, squooshy bewbie hugs to you.

Love you, lady.
xoxo

[neena]

I am hugging you right now.

[Kelly]

I wish I could give you hugs and cappucinos in person. I just wanted to tell you that you're one classy chick! There are a lot of things you could say about your situation and you've taken the high road. I hope you're able to start healing and heading down your new path.

[Nancy]

Hugs. It gets better.

[foradifferentkindofgirl (fadkog)]

This? And you? Beautiful. I'm sorry this is something you've gone through. This is never the conclusion we want, true, but the new starts can mean new adventures. I hope you find them worthy and wonderful.

Finally, this bounced around my brain and made me cry. I read it hours ago, but couldn't come here until now to say that.

[Rachel - A Southern Fairytale]

Oh sweetheart -- <3
so many hugs and so much love

[nic @mybottlesup]

hugs and peace and comfort to you as you grieve.

[BHJ]

Fist bump.

[Sandi]

I'm so sorry. Here's to a new beginning.

[Avitable]

I know exactly what you're going through. You know how to reach me any time you need to talk. xo

[Michelle]

Beautifully written. Sending good thoughts your way.

[lonek8]

I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this, but this was beautifully written, and the photograph is stunning