Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.
I wrote your mom a letter. You said you didn’t mind if I told her goodbye. I feel badly about sending a letter but to talk to her would mean that I would have to answer questions that should be answered by you. Your sisters wanted to talk to me but I told them that couldn’t happen. If you are not completely honest with them about what happened then that’s between them and you. Your family will always be on your side and rightly so; and no matter what I would say, it would only be self-serving.
What would I say? I think it would depend on what they asked…but at the very least it would be the truth, not a half-truth. I’m not sure why you feel it is better to say that we mutually grew apart, let me be clear—there was no mutual. You made a decision for both of us. And now we have begun the divorce process. My friend, L said that it would be most intense because the date of the divorce would likely butt right up with the date of our anniversary. If I could get them to be the same date, I think it would be easier. At least then I would have a great answer to the question about the happiest and saddest days in my life.
I will be sad, I am sad. You were my love walking around outside my body, I’m just sorry that you didn’t realize that. I search my memories for times when you and I were happy and I find them. You told me that you didn’t want me to think that there were only bad times, that you had good times too. And I wonder why you didn’t draw on them to remind you of the love we shared. Was I that easy to dismiss? Was this marriage that disposable?
One day I hope (selfishly) that you will look back and realize that I was a good wife to you, that I was a good friend to you, that I was good, period. I am still not sure about keeping my name. I’ve had it for ten years. I like it, it feels familiar to me and that familiarity brings comfort. For you familiarity brought restlessness and you sought something new.
I can’t help but think of the wedding poem and realize that the something blue comes at the end for a reason. This blog title is meant to honor the last connection you had with your father but it also is the color of my broken heart. As for the rest of the poem… my old life will become new because another woman borrowed my husband.
It’s not as catchy but you get the point.