It's Your LIttle Red Wagon

My husband is divorcing me. My husband is divorcing me. My husband is divorcing me.

I have to keep telling myself this so I don't call him by a pet name or buy him something at the grocery store or put on my wedding rings.

My husband is divorcing me. It's a done deal, my friends.

I have loved him for so long.

And now? It's just details. Debt. My name. His things, my things. Even though we have no children, I always thought of us a family and he thought of our marriage as a millstone, some kind of obstacle to his becoming.

There was nothing I wouldn't do. No lengths I wouldn't go to.

As bad as it was at times, as empty and scarred as I felt, I never would have walked away from him. I would continue to try, every day, to unlock him. To make him into a real live boy. To light a fire in him, to inspire him to reciprocate.

Someone I love is dying, and I can't save them. That's what my heart is telling me. Someone is dying.

I thought I had been heartbroken before, but those in retrospect were just bruises. I am heartbroken. I am out of my mind.