hollow

The pain doesn’t feel fresh anymore.

It is more of an underlying ache. A constant knowledge that what was is no longer and what should be may never be again. It is the wound turning to a scab and, eventually, settling into scar tissue that will probably remain for better or worse.

For better or worse…

The thing I’m upset about at the moment is the way my…my…wife (I don’t know what to call her now. She doesn’t want to be my wife, but we’re still married. I’m not sure what to do with that.) still won’t acknowledge the cost to our family that her decisions have demanded. The claims of “It happens all the time and the kids will be fine” really don’t hold any water. Our children are in pain. They’re learning to cope in one way or another, but none of them is pain-free.

She tells me so glibly to “just get over it” as though it is ludicrous for me to feel pain and loss and sorrow. As though this thing that I am experiencing is unfounded and without substance. This sorrow is genuine, though, even if it is only one-sided. This loss is substantial even if it is mourned in only one home and one empty bed.

Divorce may happen all the time, but frequency doesn’t lessen the enduring agony of being shattered.

The pain doesn’t feel fresh anymore, but the emptiness is just as hollow as it was on the day she drove away.

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