It was a dream. It was a stupid dream, but it was my dream.
We had the kind of love most people can only dream about. When it ended there was blame to go around. Finding out he was involved with another woman was a relief; I knew then that my efforts to keep the family together never really stood a chance. How much did I love him? I offered to be sister-wives.
He rid himself of me. My feelings went into cryonic suspension. He was someone else's husband now and my love was no longer appropriate. I was cordial but distant with him (and her) as the children grew. When they became young adults, something lovely happened -- his "new" wife and I developed a genuine bond. And I thought ... they are older now ... perhaps I'll spend holidays with the family, become, in some way, part of it again. I dreamed of turning to him, someday, and saying, "I am so weary, I have waited so long, wandered so long without you, can't I please just come home?"
We would be sister-wives. An odd little elderly throuple. We used to joke about it -- even when we were old and senile and didn't know who anyone was any longer, "I know I'd still pick you." One of the last things I said to him before the divorce was, "When you are an old man, who will cut the hair in your ears?" Because I never thought that would be anyone but me.
I'm allowed to grieve the boy and the man I loved ,with every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart, every strand of my soul. Who loved me so much he'd tell me about it for long minutes in the dark, thinking me asleep. never knowing I heard every word.
There's so much I want to say, so much it would help to discuss. I don't think I have ever felt so alone. But there's a non-zero chance he will see this. I will be respectful, always, but I can't refrain from putting these words out into the world.
I have grieved him once, in the wake of the divorce. How to deal with the happy memories, the recollection of our joy? I chose to pretend he had died, still loving me, and that made it possible not to erase fifteen years of my life.
So, I will mourn him again. I'll mourn a dream that was never really anything but just that, a dream. It's time to let it go. To let him go, again.
Savage grief.