For Jimmy

To my husband;

Today, for the first time in over two months, we sat in the same room. I was not under any illusion that things would or could change. I know God can do anything, if your heart is willing (or mine), but my point is that I was not in that room, sitting next to you, hoping for a change. I talked quietly with you while others went about their business. I made wise-cracks, made you laugh, and asked a concerned question or two. Those are the things you saw.
What you didn't see, as you leaned forward in your seat, nervous and fearing some kind of confrontation, was how my eyes would drift over to the back of your head, or your shoulders, and I would have to consciously choose not to touch you. Just to place my hand on your arm or back, or touch your face. I was so surprised by that, even though I know not a whole lot of time has passed since the end of us began, I truly did not expect to want to reach out to you. Partly out of habit, partly to comfort and calm you as I could see exactly what you were feeling in the way you held yourself, and partly to comfort myself.
Everything was so casual and so unreal, I am glad I didn't have time before today to wonder ahead of this moment, to think about where my heart would be. I feel no shame in admitting that I still love you, and will probably always care about you. How could I not? I loved you through so much hard stuff, and for so long, and as far as I know, I don't have a switch handy that I can just flip, to turn this off. And no matter what you've tried to convince yourself of, I know that you don't have that switch either.
I know things will fade, and that time and God will both heal my heart. But I also know that it should hurt, it should not be so easy to move out of the oneness of marriage. So I sat by you, with my deep thoughts and light conversation and hands tucked into my lap. And before I knew it, we were standing in front of another man. Only this time we were surrounded by strangers, not family and friends wishing to celebrate with us. And we were repeating words, taking an oath, and answering such personal questions. It went so fast, much like that other day, so fast I could hardly absorb the details or think to stop and slow it down. We stood before a man, unknown to us, who took apart what we had previously stood before our trusted pastor and friend and God to join together. In a matter of minutes we undid vows that we had made six years and one month ago. And, while I am trusting God with every moment and day, and have felt more peace (from Him, only from Him) than I thought possible, this ending was never in His loving plan for us, and it was never His will for us.
So today, my love, my heart, my best friend, I feel no shame in saying that I grieve this deeply, as I should. There was nothing right or good about today, but tomorrow, oh tomorrow, I have much hope in what He has for me tomorrow.