the letter

Yesterday I received a letter from our mediating divorce lawyer. It contained the notice from the judge with a judgment date for the divorce. Just like that, it's final. Just like that, it's over. Some people feel relief when they open that envelope, I'm sure. I was surprised how terrible I felt. That I could let the relationship get to the state it got to. That I selfishly wasn't stronger when I needed to be, in the beginning, and I hurt someone I cared about. That my son's life is forever affected before it barely got started (though many argue it's better that way - who the heck's to say?) I've never been more sorry about anything. Like I said before, I'm threadbare. Emotionally raw. Expending all my energy to suck it up in the face of my relations and coworkers only to sometimes break down at home. Of course, the situation was compounded by his many melt downs that day. Ugh. That night when I put him to bed and I was crying again (nothing serious), he started to mimic me. I put his hand on my eye (the good one) and said, "Wet - Mommy's crying." He knew something was going on, but was otherwise clueless. All I know is that when I'm upset and sad, I don't want him to feel I'm unavailable or he can't talk to me about what's going on, um, when he can talk. So I sat there on the floor with the letter, sobbing, feeling the impact of all the emotions. Pain. Guilt. Shame. Loneliness. Pride. And yes, some relief. Like a funeral, there are procedures you follow and the structure of the event keeps you going. Once it's over, the emotions come down like an anvil on the head. All at once and very hard. Maybe now we can both move on and heal.