Murder of Ravens

So I’m back. Time to get writing again. Time to get on with my life.

As some of you know by now, my recent hiatus from WordPress was occasioned by my divorce. Firstly, she got custody of the computer. But more importantly, the whole ordeal simply left me feeling too depressed to even attempt to write anything.

But I’m still left to wonder: how does a relationship that seemed so good for so many years suddenly go off the rails? As I’ve stated elsewhere, I really didn’t see this coming. Last Valentine’s Day, I wrote about my feelings for her in this post. There was nothing dramatic in our break up, no violence, or substance abuse, or adultery, or anything like that. One day she just told me she needed to move on. End of marriage. End of story.

So now I’m getting used to being single at 45. In some ways, it’s kinda cool. Complete freedom to do what I want, when I want. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of just getting up and doing something for no other reason than it just popped into my head and it seemed like fun. This sort of spontaneity on my part always annoyed her. With her everything was planned out like it was the invasion of Normandy.  A warning sign?  Perhaps.

We had no children with each other, so there’s no pressing reason for us to stay in each others lives, continually annoying each other the way divorced parents often do. But I do regret that her son will no longer be a part of my life.  As a step parent, I have no rights here, and perhaps it’s for the best.  Transitions are very difficult for children with Asperger’s Syndrome, and it probably would do him no good for me to be popping in and out of his life.

No more lawn to mow.

But I do miss her. Or perhaps more accurately, I miss the little things that made up our relationship. I miss the kiss goodbye in the morning, and the kiss when I walked in the door at night. I miss waking up at three in the morning and finding her there next to me, her warm softness making the dead of night a little less oppressive. I miss eating meals together, going shopping together, going on vacations together. I miss things like going to weddings and seeing both our names on the little card that’s always on the table so you know where to sit.

Most of all I miss holding hands. We held hands a lot. We held hands in high school. In the dream I related in the Valentine’s Day post, we held hands. I honestly believed that we would go through life holding hands, and that when the time came for me to pass from this world, it would be she who would be sitting at my bedside, holding my hand one last time.

But now that is all over and done. What I believed to be a lifelong relationship has turned out to be merely a chapter in my life, one that is now over.

Breaking up at 45 is not the same as breaking up at 25. There is a certain sense of panic that comes with the realization that my life is half over (I’m an optimist). Finding a life’s companion is not so easy when your hair is graying, your tummy a bit more noticeable, and your personality firmly in place with all its quirks and eccentricities. There is the very real possibility that I will spend the rest of my life alone. Freedom is great, but I wonder if it is a suitable replacement for companionship.

Right now I have little desire to entangle my life with someone else’s, but how will I feel a year from now?  The idea of growing old alone is a frightening one.  Freedom, or companionship?  I wonder if it is possible to have both.

-Smith