Heart Attack or Heartbreak

They say heart attacks are the silent killers of women, I disagree, I think its heartbreak. A piece of me wilted when you told me you had an affair but a piece of me died when you left.

Its 6am and “last night, I didn’t get to sleep at all, no no no….. “ That song is applicable on so many levels but this level makes me the saddest. I hope you had better luck sleeping… no, that’s not true, I hope you were miserable, more so than me, and at the very least, a bit uncomfortable.

I thought hearing the news of your affair was the hardest thing I would go through but the hardest part was yesterday… watching you come back up the stairs after your bags had been collected and dropped off.  I stood in the doorway and handed you your helmet and keys. You had to go. You knew it and I knew it.

It seems like forever since you told me and it’s only been 10 days. I wonder if I’ll ever stop measuring the days by that “one”? I don’t know if it was a blessing or curse that you had a planned vacation which would give us a week apart but it seemed to give us both some perspective to be away from each other. Those first few days of your vacation, I prayed so hard that would come back and ask me to love you again and tell me you were sorry for what you had done and that it would never happen again. I replayed over and over again our conversations from that night and the next. I heard myself manipulate the conversation to get you to give me some tiny shred of hope, a thread of possibility that you could love me again but you had already “checked out” of our marriage and the affair was your way of “paying the bill” for your stay.

Over the next couple of months we’ll plan our futures, plural… never again to be one. I have so many memories and yet not enough of them. I’m so thankful for the firsts that I experienced with you… our fun adventures and even in the not so fun times, the fact that you were who you were and I loved you.   Our future now will be handled very matter-of-factly… with pieces of paper and the separation of “stuff,” the same stuff that just 4 years ago we were trying hard to keep. Four years ago, packing up the remnants of our home after losing it all and looking to start over again, four years ago moving across country in one car with two dogs to live with in a basement apartment. And now, in just a few months, instead of celebrating our eleventh anniversary, we will likely be signing divorce papers.

The house is so quiet, just the hum of the air conditioner and my fingers on the keypad. No soft snore coming from your side of the bed. Your side… will I stop having a “yours and mine”? Maybe I will just sleep in the middle for a while so that it doesn’t feel so real. I have been alone in our home before but it feels especially empty now. I don’t think I can stay here. I thought that I could and very easily dismissed others’ comments about being around memories — but its true. It’s not the dresser that is still in the corner or the flat screen TV that was the center of Michigan football season… it’s the laundry that I won’t be folding and putting into that dresser, it’s the armchair coaching sessions that you used to give me during game time. Yep, definitely can’t stay.

I look at my fingers as I type this… I put your ring on my finger and then my own to keep yours in place. I slept on your side of the bed last night, trying to will the scent of you to stay with me forever. The pot of spaghetti that I made for us still sits in the fridge. It’s been there 3 weeks. I know I need to throw it out but it’s the only thing I have left to remind me of what was once normal. And even that day wasn’t normal. We had just put little “Peanut” to sleep. I think I’ll throw it away today, but check with me tomorrow just to be sure.

I want you to understand that you hurt me- truly, badly, deeply, and I will never ever be the same… for better or worse. But mostly, I want you to know that I loved you, probably badly but definitely truly and deeply, for better or worse.


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