Single Again For The First Time 18: Anniversaries

Vincent Truman

The major difference between death and a divorce is, in the latter case, one is obliged to carry around the tombstone.

It was in November 2011, immediately following my wife and I visiting my family in New Mexico, that I was given the news, all in one conversation, that we were having problems, or maybe should consider a separation, or maybe should consider getting divorced.  There was no indication that things were terribly wrong in New Mexico, other than the missus spent most free moments playing Second Life and engaging in some October scavenger hunt for virtual gifts.  I do remember watching her twaddle away at the keyboard under that magnificent night sky, grey with stars yet richly black as only semi-rural areas are, and thinking, ‘what is wrong with this picture?’  Despite that, I never thought we were in mortal danger.  It was only later, when I learned problems with our marriage were being shared with other players on Second Life and not me, that I realized that marriage mortality was assured.

Now, two years later, I am left with a series of anniversary echoes, which are probably not dissimilar to those who lose a loved one through a drawn-out disease.  I imagine those folks avoid eye contact with their calendars when they reach an anniversary of the first diagnosis, the first treatment, the last good day, the waiting, etc.  As far as I’ve come from the dismal days of 2011 and 2012, certain dates bring with them a dull ache, a silent pain and a vaguely persuasive sorrow.  After all, these anniversary echoes are all I have left of a relationship with the woman I loved more than anyone in my life.

For this installment of Single Again For The First Time, I wanted to juxtapose the occasional depressed me that lives in the present day with the nervous but anxious fellow I was in the days prior to my wedding.  I avoided the easy track of being remorseful – because to this day, I don’t regret my time with my ex-spouse, although some days I miss it – and instead added some humor and encouragement, the two emotional food groups that guided me out of the hell of watching my marriage crash like a Second Life sim.