Love and death

"Sushi. That's what my ex-wife called me. Cold fish."

I think that my ex-wife might have a few other choice words for me, other than sushi. Yesterday was one year since my divorce became final. When I tell that to people, they say "Happy Anniversary!" I can understand the response, as in many cases, a divorce is a happy event to many. It represents freedom, new beginnings.


For me, it was a death. Death of my marriage, death of my life as I knew it, death of my inner self, as I knew it. There was no cause to celebrate this ending of things. I had to bury it. The papers I received from the court, processed by the county clerk's office, attesting to the final divorce decree, were the headstone on the grave of the first part of my life. My lawyer wished me congratulations and good luck. I cut him a check, and that was that.

At the same time,  the yin/yang of things was showing me the way to the second half of my life. It guided me back to an old friend, and someone who has allowed me to feel good about myself again. getting into a relationship so soon after my marriage ended was not what I was looking for, but it found me in spite of myself. What it has done has helped me survive the emotional terror that I was enduring, and keep me focused.

It has also taught me how to love again, without conditions.

Where this is ultimately headed, I have no idea. I'm just rolling with the current.