Fifteen Years away from the Pain

On April 12, 2003 my seven year marriage fell apart. That night, i caught my then husband having an affair with a colleague. Confronted, he announced his love for her and his intention to move to Colorado to live with her, which he immediately did.  I was 8 months pregnant with our second child; our oldest daughter had just turned five. The next five years were the roughest of my life and there were times i thought i'd never be able to look back on them without being overwhelmed with sadness. But i was wrong. This was written to my sister, her husband and my parents. 

Back then, you would ask me: "What can I do? What would help you right now?"   I remember saying to you, (and to myself again and again, like a mantra): “I want to be years away from this moment. Please take me years away from this nightmare.”    Nothing could really help me except time.  I just wanted to be years and years away from those angry, scary, sad minutes, hours, days.

And now I am. I woke up this morning in the same house, but not in the same bed.  I woke up my baby, just like I did fifteen years ago, but today she got herself dressed, blew out some candles and headed off for high school. I sit here with my fresh coffee listening to the fountain ripple in the background. I take a good look around -- the woman I was back then wouldn't recognize the woman I am today. She would barely recognize the house.  

It’s funny that this time marks some of the worst days of my life and some of the best. Allie is a hilarious gift, even though her first years were so tough for me, and I’m sure for her too. Her first years were hard for all of us.

Forever I'll remember that first Good Friday- one year out. I remember sitting in a pew at Sugarcreek Baptist, two kids in my lap in the dark, funereal service and as I sang, through tears I told them, “we made it girls, we're one year later.”   I deeply celebrated those 12 months between me and the pain.  With the little bit of clear thinking I had at the time, I invested it all in believing that we three could make it. Back then, I didn't know what “make it” meant and I surely didn't know how, but I did believe.

And you believed.   Your help fortified me; your faith carried me – at times when I was very, very heavy.  For the meals, and the favors, for your willingness to forgive me in my struggle and still sometimes give me hell when I needed it.  For the talks, the laughs, the kid-watching, the everyday stuff and the once in a lifetime stuff –  thank you. Thank you.   

Thank you.

I didn’t know how much time I would need to come between me and those dark days before I could look back on them and not see them shrouded in black.  But I do know it's been that much time, more than enough time. So much healing, bright, brand new time in fact, that those black shrouds are not only gossamer, but memories of those times glow with aging gratitude for the love and the help that you gave me, and for God’s incredible grace in helping me raise my littlest bundle of wonder into a confident, funny and love – filled young lady.   Happy fifteen years, I know you celebrate with me.