The weekend after I moved out, I wrote a note to my soon-to-be-ex. It had been a month since he demanded a divorce. It was a weekend he spent at his girlfriend’s house. I had written him notes throughout that month to try to say things he wouldn’t accept then but might be willing to hear someday. This note was different. He was moving on. He had moved on.
I wrote the note in one draft. I left only one blank on the page. It followed the dash after our wedding date: it would be the death date of our marriage. It’s something I hadn’t seriously considered. The beginning date was our anniversary, our wedding date. The death date would be the date of our divorce. I wrote with no bitterness but a consuming sadness and loss. I wrote of what I would miss, the moments that would never be a part of the dash between the birth and death of our marriage.
I will send it to him one day – when I can write the final date.
Despite that death and the abrupt, hostile way it came about, I appreciate the dash. I would do it all over again – every moment of it. Marriage and doing life deeply with someone is worth it. The dash is full of joy and heartache but it is a journey of growth. My journey was cut short, in my opinion, but my growth wasn’t. I am still living the dash of my life. I am thankful.
