Tears from above

Yesterday, I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. I divorced the man to whom I'd been married for most of my adult life. A man in whom I'd placed all my trust, love, and devotion. When we got married, I knew it would be forever because we both understood the importance of working hard to keep a relationship strong and healthy.

Unlike all of the other couples waiting in the courtroom for their time before the magistrate, we sat next to each other. We waited together while others exchanged sneering, snarling looks across the room. We took turns crying while the other held it together.

When called to the front of the court room, we stood next to each other at the podium, rather than on opposite sides of the aisle. We provided the court with a dissolution agreement. Nothing was being disputed; there wasn't anything for the judge to sort out or settle.

"Ms. Lavell, since you were the petitioner, will you please tell the court why this marriage can't be saved?"

I began to cry. "Not without crying."

The judge looked like she, too, might cry. Doug was way ahead of her. "Irreconcilable differences?" she asked with a sad smile.

I nodded.

Less than two minutes later, it was over. The judge told us that sometimes people turn out to be better friends after divorce than they were while married. We walked out together, just as we'd walked in.

Outside the courthouse, we were greeted with a torrential downpour. I'd left my car windows open. My cloth seat was a soggy, wet sponge upon which I sat while I cried all the way home with the windows still open.