All Good Things
I guess the detail which surprised me the most was the genuine compassion in the judge's voice. I knew going in that in dissolutions of marriage the judge is supposed to make a token attempt to preserve the union, but this guy made eye contact, and really seemed like he cared when he asked us if there was any way he could help us work things out. I wasn't expecting that; I almost lost it.
But really, what could he — what could anyone do? Marie and I were together fifteen years, seven before marriage, and nearly eight years after. We tried, in our own twisted ways, we really did. Maybe in the end we were both too independent, too proud, too stubborn, too unwilling to compromise — but I don't think so. I suspect that our marriage died because it had been so very, very good for so long. I'm not looking back on this through the mists of romantic nostalgia, either - we had terrible fights, and petty situations would drive us to incredible anger. But we were so different in complementary ways that we always rode out the storms, and ended up even closer as a result. Love conquered all.
When the trouble came we were both blind sided, didn't really know what to do, how to handle it. We had just gotten married! How could there be trouble so soon? So, we did what we always did, tried to talk about it, and rode it out, waiting for this storm to pass, just as the others had in the past. After all, we were special, we were unique in all the world, we were in Love, and we could work this out, given time enough. But the storm passed too slowly, and we grew apart before the trouble ended. Honest to god, we tried for years, but hurt had accumulated on both sides, and it was going to take an extraordinary effort from us both to fix things. And we blew it.
And now it is over, with the granting of a petition for dissolution of marriage. There's no rancor, no hard feelings between us, and I hope that eventually we'll even be close again. I find myself fending off the attempts at levity from uncomprehending friends - "Wow, finally! Where's the party?!" — or the well-meaning but clumsy offers of solace — "Well, at least now you can get on with your life." The hardest for me to deal with, though, are those who use this occasion to expound on their own theories of How Things Work: never live with someone before marriage; honesty ruins relationships — just lie and the problem will go away; love is not important in a marriage, money is; and so on. Every single person has their idea of what it must be like, and how they'll get it right, and every married person knows that they have the answers, and every bitterly divorced person knows it is all shit, anyway.
Fortunately, I'm not bitter. I know better than to even say something as foolish as "I'll never love again." Hell, I fall in love at the drop of a hat; there is something so marvelous and special about humanity that I can't help myself. Nonetheless, the finalization of the divorce has hit me hard, harder, actually, than I had even expected. Some people are saddened when they hear a song which was special in a past love, but Marie saved my life; I can't look in a mirror without seeing her impact on who I am. I don't have the answers yet, and I've been thinking about it for years. Somehow I doubt that I'll ever have any real answers. Relationships grow, change, and eventually die, without anyone ever really understanding why.
I just know that for a brief, shining moment I was a part of something extraordinary; now I'm left with a melancholy remembrance of something beautiful irretrievably lost.
