Today, Aug. 8 was for many years, the anniversary of my wedding. I was aware of this all day. I felt agitated, resentful, wistful, anything but settled and serene. This evening I found myself alone and then I looked at my e-mail. Sure enough, my former spouse had sent an e-mail, frivolously marking the occasion. He’d sent some headlines of things that had happened on this date in history. I thought ‘What is he trying to say?” Does he just not know how to leave it be? If you kill something – have the decency to leave it buried. This trite reminder is disrespectful. But how much it is in keeping with the way he treated me at the end. Is this then how we treat the memory of something dear that has died? Then I thought that a marriage really doesn’t die. Nothing so final and formal. It fades like the colors of some old shirt. Like the joy does, like the hope does, fades like the respect and the love do. Like a plant, without watering – it shrivels and soon it’s just a dried husk of what it used to be. What hope is there for dead plants, and dreams?
And what would I have if I could have what my heart desires? God knows that I don’t even know. Do I have a heart? Desires? Tonight I want only to wrap myself in the black shroud of this aloneness, to feel it and let it chill me to the core so that some tomorrow I can emerge into the sunlight.
August 8th. It used to mean a day of promises and dreams. Today, August 8th is “Yesterday.” “Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play, now I need a place to hide away.” Well said, Paul. A day, or rather, a night to mourn. August 8 – may you fade and shrivel into something of a size that I can handle. Tonight, you are too much for me. Yet I know God’s mercies are new every morning. Lord, if You wake me, please give me new perspective on my yesterdays and if You are willing, my tomorrows. Good night.
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