Tag Archives: divorce

SO APPARENTLY, IT’S BACK TO SQUARE ONE

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About a month and a half ago, I received a notice “in the mail.” It was from my husband’s lawyer. My husband had filed for divorce. We had recently celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary. To say it was a shock is the understatement of all times. I had no idea, none, that he was unhappy or discontent. He was away on a business trip, and I had expected him to come home by the end of the week. He hadn’t contacted me since he left four days ago, which wasn’t unusual. He traveled quite often. He didn’t always know exactly when he would be getting home. 

I called him on his cell phone. He didn’t pick up. There was a message saying he would be unavailable for the next several weeks. Leave your number, and he will get in touch with you.

I slowly placed the phone back, I had an impulse to slam it down hard, but I didn’t since I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine headache in the top of my head. I felt a tear run down my cheek, followed by an avalanche of tears that followed it.

I sat there frozen in place, unable to think clearly. It felt like the end of the world to me. I could not comprehend that my husband, whom I loved dearly, did not love me anymore and wanted a divorce. This is the man I had intended on spending the rest of my life all the way to our golden years.

I kept going over in my head everything that had happened between us recently. I couldn’t think of a single word or event that would have given me some warning that Howard was discontent or unhappy in our life together. But, obviously, he was, and somehow I had remained blissfully unaware of his feelings and his intentions.

It just blew my mind. And even on the evening of our twenty-fifth-anniversary party, he never let on. It almost feels as if I’m living in some alternate reality. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Do I get a lawyer, should I ask my husband if he’s willing to see a marriage counselor? I don’t know. I talked to several of my woman friends who have experienced divorce, and they all gave me the name and number of the divorce lawyers they had used. Sally, my best friend, cried along with me. And told me she would be with me every step of the way. And she was. What would we do without our woman friends?

My husband’s lawyer and my lawyer scheduled a meeting for us all to get together and discuss the details of our divorce. Who gets what etc., etc. It was brutal. My husband sat across from me and never looked me in the face. It was like he was negotiating one of his real estate contracts with a total stranger. His face was without expression, and he never made eye contact with me. He looked through me as if I was invisible to him. I was having a difficult time paying attention to what was being said. I hoped my lawyer was doing his job because I felt like I was in some other dimension.

The next thing I knew, my lawyer touched my shoulder and said, “These are the papers you have to sign. You keep the house, and the two of you will evenly divide the investments and any monies that remain in your joint bank accounts.” I stared at him and shook my head up and down a couple of times. And then he shoved the contracts in front of me and held a pen up in front of my face. Since I wasn’t reacting to what he just stated. I took the pen, and my lawyer pointed at the decree and said,” Sign, here, here, and here. It’s final. We can be on our way.”

My husband got up from his seat, shook his lawyer’s right hand, and then turned and left the room without a word said to me at all. It was almost as if I didn’t exist in his reality anymore. And I guess I didn’t. It was surreal. I tried to take it all in. I guess it was going to take a long time for me to accept my new reality, even if that reality was a complete and unbelievable nightmare.

After we had signed all the papers, the lawyers shook each other’s hands. I stood up and immediately felt dizzy. I sat down again, and my lawyer gave me a glass of water to drink. He said, “This is a difficult experience. Many people have a negative reaction to divorce. I promise you that in time you will adapt to this change. You know how to contact me if you need to for any reason.”  He shook my hand, and I think I shook his as well, but I couldn’t sware to it. I felt lightheaded. I slowly rose from the table, picked up my purse, and headed out the door and into the foyer. I didn’t even bother to look back at my husband, I mean, my former husband. I didn’t know how I would take my next breath, let alone continue on with my life like nothing happened. When I couldn’t think of a single reason to keep breathing or living. I somehow made it home safely. I don’t know how. I don’t even remember driving home.

But, one good thing did happen I decided that I was going to get a dog as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear the idea of living alone. I wasn’t ready to think about selling my house. But, it was in there at the back of my mind. Selling the house I had lived in for the past twenty years with my “husband.” And starting over, somewhere new. I had always wanted a dog. But, my husband said, “What for?” Unfortunately, we were never able to have children, and doctors were never able to diagnose the fertility problem. It just never happened for us. He didn’t want any part of adopting. And he even rejected getting a dog.

So here I am at the husk of a new life. Where I alone determine what is right for me, it has given me hope that, under my own power will make myself happy and eventually content. I will bring myself to my ultimate goal. And that is happiness and contentment. Is this too much to ask, you may say? “No, no, it is not.”

After weeks of vacillating about what I should do to turn my life around, I finally made the decision to hire a realtor and sell the house. I no longer considered it to be “my” house. It was just “a house.”

At this point, I wanted a complete change of scenery. And the night I woke up from a dream and realized that what I wanted to do was buy a house on the beach and get a dog. And spend the rest of my days in a warm climate walking my dog or perhaps dogs on the beach. At some point, I would have to find a job to help pay the bills. But, not right away, I wanted to have to accustom myself to the new home and perhaps make a friend or two.

As soon as I found “my” house, I would get myself a dog. And then my new life would begin. In the next three weeks, I spent all my time going from one house to another with my realtor, looking for that perfect home. About three weeks in, my realtor took me to a two-story home in Wildwood, NJ. And I immediately fell in love with it. I realized that it was big enough that I could rent part of the house out to make some extra money and still have plenty of room. I would live on the lower floor. Once I went to the settlement, I started hitting the local shops looking for furniture and everything else I would need. And within a month, I thought it was absolutely perfect.

The following week I took a trip to the local pound to get a puppy. There were quite a few dogs to choose from. But once I saw the little ball of fluff, I knew I had found my dog. The woman who worked at the animal shelter told me that he was actually a grown dog and he wouldn’t get any bigger. He was a must, but she wasn’t sure what kind of mix he was. As soon as I met him, I fell in love. And I knew he was the dog for me. I took him home that day. I named him Buddy because he had quickly become my best buddy. It took him a few days to become accustomed to my house. But, soon enough, he felt at home. Oh, and he absolutely loved walking on the beach and letting the waves wash over his feet at the shoreline. We were a match made in heaven.

Every day we started the day with a walk to the beach and back, and then we had a light breakfast. I had fenced in the backyard and put a doggy door in the kitchen door so he could go out back to the yard when he needed to relieve himself. He soon befriended our neighbors, who all turned out to be friendly, but not too friendly, if you know what I mean.

As a matter of fact, I began to make friends with some of my neighbors who had befriended Buddy. I started planting a garden in the front yard. And my neighbors came over to admire my handiwork. Some of them even asked me for gardening advice. I was happy to advise them, although I informed them that I, too, was a novice gardener and just learning myself.

Before I knew it, I had been living there for six months. And I couldn’t remember a time when I had felt more content and relaxed. In my free time, I decided to start writing some short stories about what was going on in my local area. And one of my neighbors suggested I send some of my stories to the local newspaper. Believe it or not, the paper said they would pay me to write stories about what was going on in the local area. And I was a little reluctant at first, but then I thought, “Why not?” 

And so, now I am a paid writer for the local newspaper. I’m not making a lot of money, but every bit helps. Who knows what I will do next? The skies are the limit.  I am quite content living in my house with my Buddy and so happy to live in a neighborhood where people care about one another. So, I guess my divorce wasn’t all bad. And who knows what good things are coming my way? I look forward to the future and what it will bring.

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YOUR PURPOSE IN LIFE IS WHAT GIVES YOUR LIFE MEANING

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It has been six months since I signed my final divorce papers were signed. This could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on whether you want a divorce or not. I was not the one seeking a divorce. It never even occurred to me that I would ever get a divorce. I married for life.

And then, two days before our twenty-fifth anniversary, my husband sent me an email from work. An email, can you believe it? And it said, sorry Cassie, but I can no longer live this lie. I haven’t loved you for a long time. Life is short. I’ve found my true love, and I have filed for divorce. I hope you will find “real” love and happiness in the future. I know this is the best thing for both of us. My lawyer will be contacting you.

Divorce papers

 

My first thought was, oh that Charlie, he’s such a joker. And then I laughed and laughed. I kept laughing up until I decided to go upstairs to our bedroom and check his closet. It was empty except for his old slippers that had a hole in the sole of the right slipper. I must have stared at the empty closet for fifteen minutes. Until I finally realized that if this was one of his jokes, it wasn’t funny at all. Then I grabbed my cell phone and called Charlie’s cell. The message said, phone number disconnected. I called his boss’s office and asked, “did Charlie come to work today? “Oh hello, Cassie,” no, of course not, didn’t Charlie tell you he was transferred to the Milwaukee office. Today is his first day there. But, you knew that already I’m sure.”

“Oh yes, of course, he did. It slipped my mind. I’ve been so busy. He forgot to give me his new cell number could you give me that. I have to tell him something important.”

“Of course, I’ll text it to you right now. However, he might still be on the road. I was surprised that you didn’t show up for his Bon Voyage party yesterday. We missed seeing you. “

“Oh yeah, the Bon Voyage party. I have been running around like a crazy person trying to get ready for the move. Take care, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

I ended the call, and then I plopped down on the floor and cried like a baby for a good hour. I felt like my heart actually broke. It was beating very hard, painfully hard. I thought I might be having a heart attack. I cried until I ran out of tears. I was having trouble breathing. I think I must have passed out for a while.

When I came to my senses, I was splayed out on the floor. I crawled over to the bed and pulled myself up. The little voice inside my head was screaming, “how could you be so stupid? All the nights that Charlie stayed at work ’till midnight. He slept on the couch all night and told me he had work to do on the computer and didn’t want to keep me up. He barely gave me a peck on the cheek when he left to go to work or for a work trip. How could I be so stupid?” Of course, he was having an affair. I just wouldn’t let myself see it.

Charlie and I were high school sweethearts, the prom King, and Queen. We attended the same university together. Sophomore year we moved into an efficiency apartment together. We were inseparable. We were so happy with just the two of us that we decided that we didn’t want children. We agreed that our lives were complete with just him and me. And now here I am twenty-five years later. No Charlie, no kids, just an empty house and me. And that is when it occurred to me that Charlie would probably hire his best friend Kevin Gipson, the most cutthroat divorce lawyer, to represent him, and I would be left with nothing.

Two hours later, I was sitting in the office of Mary Cunningham. She and I attended the University of Penn together. She attended law school and headed her own top-notch firm. And I majored in Biology, and for the past ten years, I have dedicated my life to saving our environment, and it has been an uphill battle the whole time.

And what this tells you is that I am not a person that gives up easily or ever. I will fight up until I breathe my last breath. But because of my commitment to saving the planet, I am often absent or missing in action, as Charlie says at least once a day. He kept telling me that I was an absentee wife. Charlie doesn’t believe a woman’s career is as important as a man’s. I disagreed.

Six months later, we met at Charlie’s lawyer’s office. He sat there looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He even smiled at me and said, “I hope you are doing well.”

As soon as I looked at him, I felt bile rise in my mouth. I asked if I could get a drink of water. And like magic, it appeared in front of me in less than a minute. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. At least he didn’t try to extend the conversation. I felt like leaping across the table and choking him. I tried to calm myself. I knew things would only go from bad to worse if I lost it, even for a minute. I looked at him again, and he looked like a total stranger to me. The Charlie I loved and cherished just didn’t exist any longer. I knew I was mourning a marriage that had died a long time ago when neither of us was paying attention.

My lawyer, Mary Cunningham, was having a conversation with Charlie’s lawyer. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying to each other. I tried to calm myself. I felt like everything that had happened in the last month was out of my control, Charlie’s departure and the end of my marriage. It was as if everything was fast forward, and I had no way of controlling either the direction or how quickly things happened. I felt lost and empty.

After about a half-hour of debate between the two lawyers, they completed an agreement of equitable divorce.  We each had our investments. I can live in the house until we sold it. Then we will divide the proceeds of all our assets except for those in our possession before our marriage. The lawyers shook hands, and so did Charlie and I. It felt so anti-climatic. As if it was a Fourth of July Fireworks Celebration and all the fireworks were duds. Charlie stood next to me and shook my hand and said, “no hard feelings Cassie, I hope you will find happiness in the future. And oh, by the way, Barb and I are going to have a baby. I thought you should hear it from me.”

“A baby, a baby? You told me you never wanted or needed to have children. That the two of would always be enough. “

Well, feelings change. And besides, Barb wants to be a stay-at-home mom with the baby. She feels that women that have children should raise them and not shuttle them off to daycare and babysitters. She believes having a child is a commitment, not a choice.”

“Oh, is that right, Charlie. Well, good luck to you both. I feel as if I’m talking to a stranger. I don’t know what else to say. Congratulations on the baby. My lawyer will contact you regarding the sale of our house; I mean the house. Goodbye.”

Some part of me wanted to reach out and hug him one more time. It all seemed so unreal to me. I felt my lip quiver a bit, and I was afraid I was going to start bawling in front of Charlie and the lawyers. And that’s when Charlie reached out and pulled me close to him and said, “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t plan any of it. It just happened. I felt like you left me a long, long time ago. I wish only the best for you in whatever your future brings to you.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed, and managed to hug him back. I couldn’t believe it would be for the last time. “Goodbye, Charlie. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss you. I will. I do wish you happiness as well. Goodbye, take care.

And I turned around and shook Mary Cunningham’s hand and said,” I’ll contact you when our house sells. I was just offered the lead position with the Office of Global Change in the Department of State. I believe I will finally be able to make a real difference now.”

“Cassie, I wish you only the best. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you. I know that you will do great things in your life. And I will be able to say I knew you when.”

Then we shook hands and turned and walked in different directions. I didn’t hear from him again until his baby was born, and he sent me a picture. I congratulated him. And I was truly happy that he had a life that made him truly happy as he seemed to be.

And I was happy in my work, which was always paramount to me. I knew that whatever happened now would make a difference not just to me but to the world at some level. I got ready for bed because tomorrow would bring me more challenges, and I would meet them.

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THE BEGINNING OFTEN STARTS WITH AN ENDING

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Jessica finishes her early morning walk around Strawbridge Lake. She looks down the tree lined path and over at the beautiful Oak tree that‘s silhouetted by the rising sun.

Every morning she wakes up at precisely six o’clock in the morning. She washes her face, brushes her teeth, and runs a comb quickly through her salt and pepper hair. Then she heads out to her ten-year-old VW wagon and drives about a mile and a half to the park for her walk. She’s a creature of habit.

She used to walk around the downtown section of Moorestown. But she stopped doing that since she doesn’t want to run into anyone she knows. Who either offers her their condolences or cross to the other side of the street or ducks into a store to avoid an awkward meeting with her.

It’s difficult to talk to someone who has recently lost a loved one. Or worse yet to run into someone who was in the process of a messy divorce, and then her or his spouse suddenly passes away. After all, what can you say, should you offer condolences, or congratulations? Dear Abby, would be hard put to tell you just the right words in this situation.

Jessica feels conflicted herself. After all she asked for a divorce. She had been very unhappy for a long time. She keeps reliving that day over and over in her head, the conversation, his incredulous expression, and then his burst of anger. She’s rehearsed the conversation in her head for days before she finally worked up the nerve to say the words.

“Al, I have something to tell you. I want out, of this house, and out of this town. I want to start over, somewhere else. A new life, a new beginning, far from here.”

“What are you talking about Jessica? I have a business, my family is here, and our life is here. I can’t move away, start over, don’t be ridiculous we’re not teenagers. You just can’t run away and start over because you’re bored. Get a new hobby, get a new job, for god’s sake, don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t understand Al. I want a divorce. And I want to get away from you, and your family, with their constant interference, offering their unwanted advice. Second-guessing every little decision and choice we have ever made. I have already contacted a lawyer.”

That’s when Al’s face changed into a face she didn’t recognize, one filled with anger and resentment in a single moment. She never saw him smile again or say anything but words echoing his feelings of resentment and anger. He spent that night in a hotel, and then looked for an apartment to live in until the divorce was finalized.

Jessica starts making plans for her new and improved life. She walks every day at the park, gets her hair colored a more becoming shade of brunette without the gray highlights. She loses weight and goes clothes shopping for a trendy new style of clothing. She begins to transform herself, inside and out.

And then two weeks before the court date for their divorce, Al has a massive heart attack while at work, sitting at his desk making out his quarterly reports. No time to get him to the hospital, or perform CPR, just dead on arrival at Kennedy Hospital.

The next week is a blurry memory, planning the funeral, which turns out to be a nightmare, since all of Al’s family now hate the sight of her, blaming her for his unexpected expiration. She can’t blame them, she blames herself.

In the aftermath, she spends a month just moping around the empty house, packing up his stuff, and then finally just dropping it all off at the Goodwill. Because she can’t face seeing his parents and family again.

She begins walking again after a month. It’s hard for her to believe it, but it has been two months since Al had died. She’s paralyzed. She hasn’t started her new life. In fact, she’s hardly living any kind of life at all.

As she gazes at the sunlit tree, she has an epiphany. It’s a new day. It’s an opportunity to start over, and not just today. That every day offers an opportunity to begin anew. She drives home and throws her purse on the floor next to the front door.

Walks over to the phone and calls a realtor, her lawyer, and one of the few friends she has left, and tells them her plans. She packs a bag with enough clothes for a week and walks out the door, and gets into the car.

Forty-five minutes later she arrives at the Philadelphia International Airport. She asks the American Airlines representative for the first-class ticket to Los Angelus, California, and six hours later they touch down at LAX. 

She rents a sports car and drives to the beach in Santa Barbara. She tosses her shoes onto the back seat and walks to the beach and gazes out at the Pacific Ocean.

She’s startled when a flock of seagulls, lands on the railing in front of the sand dunes. There are eleven of them, she takes this as a sign, that she too can continue with her journey in life, finding adventures without her mate.

Jessica’s still sad that Al doesn’t have the opportunity to do the same thing. But she no longer feels the need to blame herself for something that would have happened whether she had asked for a divorce, or not. Her life will go on.

VICTOR

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It’s the fourth Friday of the month, and Victor sits at his usual table at Mickey D’s. His father is late as usual, or he isn’t going to show up at all. It happens sometimes. Victor’s father is unpredictable and unreliable.

Victor’s mother dropped him off a half-hour early. Because this was the only night she had to herself, she was anxious to be on her way. She calls it her girl’s night out. But Victor knows what it’s was all about. Because every fourth Saturday of the month, Victor wakes up to a different “daddy.”

His parents have been separated for eight months, and recently their divorce was finalized. Of course, there were years and years of fighting and anger and name-calling. That went on long into the night before the separation. So, it came as no surprise when his father packed up all his belongings one hot and humid night last summer—after one particularly spectacular knockdown screaming fight between his parents, Tammy and Jack.

That’s how Victor thinks of them as Tammy and Jack. He long ago stopped thinking of them as his parents. It wasn’t that he suffers under some adolescent fantasy that they aren’t his parents. And that one day, his real parents will come to claim him. It’s just so apparent that Tammy and Jack have no business being his parent or anyone else’s.

Victor is staring over at the French Fry Man. That’s how he thinks of him, The French Fry Man, not that it was his real name. The French Fry Man has some kind of problem and yells out weird barking sounds or sometimes curse words for no apparent reason. He also loses control of his arms and legs and the muscles in his face. And they tighten up and flay out without any warning.

The restaurant manager comes over and softly tells the French Fry Man that he must stop making noises. The French Fry Man would promise to try. But it’s obvious he can’t stop himself. His odd noises and yelling irritate fellow customers. And kids used to make fun of him all the time. So, Victor is reasonably confident that if he were able to stop himself, he would have done it by now.

Victor feels sorry for him. He often thought of him at odd times. At the same time, Victor is on the bus on the way to school. When he’s at home by himself, he considers how terrible it must be to be unable to control the noises and words that come unwillingly from his mouth. Victor observes him and can almost predict when it’s about to happen. He can see him tighten up his muscles, trying to prevent the spasm. But he isn’t able to control it.

Victor feels a connection to the French Fry Man. He feels the same loss of control about his life and where it’s taking him. As Victor sits there and watches the French Fry Man, his arm shoots out and knocks his French Fries off the table and all over the floor. This was the only thing that French Fry Man ever eats. Perhaps it’s the only thing he can afford to buy. The only luxury he allows himself. As the French fries fly off the table and are sent on their uncontrolled trajectory into Mickey D’s space, a whooping sound comes out of his mouth.

Victor sits momentarily and stares and listens as the inevitable laughter begins. A tear escapes from one eye and then the other. Victor wipes them quickly away and walks up to the counter and orders two large French Fries with extra ketchup.

Victor walks over to the French Fry Man’s table and stands next to it. He is momentarily tongue-tied. Then he says, “Hi, my name is Victor. My father was supposed to meet me here tonight. It looks as if he isn’t going to show up. I have this extra French Fry, and I’m wondering if I can share them with you? I hate eating alone.

At first, the man stares at him as if he is some kind of apparition, and then a smile spreads across his face. “Please sit. I would like that.”

This is how Victor makes his first real friend who always does as he promises and how Victor meets his “real” father.