The Quiet To Come

Tonight I realized that something is going to change.  Something that's already changing incrementally, like first roots from a seed, curling and clinging to dirt in the dark.  It's out of the way, small, something you can't see.  But it's there, hidden in the cool damp.

I have known that one loss is coming:  the loss of the Professor from my life.  It has been slow and painful, and I have been making my new life my own.  I have settled into friendships with strong, smart and loving women, and realized for the first time in over a decade how much I need those bonds.  I have also settled into the house, started making it my own in the smallest of ways.  Months ago, I took down photos from our life together because they were too painful to see.  More recently, I put away a sweet picture of my father and me at my wedding -- the last wedding photo I had out -- not because it was painful, but because I was ready to let it go.  I bought new patio furniture, red stools for the kitchen, purchased a few small pieces of art.  All things I got because I liked them, because they made me smile.  It felt kind of sad, and kind of good, to make those decisions myself -- for myself and no one else.

Tonight, in the quiet of my house, padding by my new red stools on the way to the kitchen, I felt for the first time that this really is my house.  The Professor is still on the title, and will be for a while, and it's our joint asset -- but it's my home.  Something in my heart said this is mine.  And that made my heart happy, because I love this house, and I love it in a new way now that I've let go of the old way.  Or mostly let go.

And, then, something in my heart said it will be even quieter than this once the divorce is final.  And it struck me and I stopped walking.  Because I'm not just losing the Professor.  In some bizarre way, I'm losing the divorce, as well.  The stress and anxiety and limbo, with which I really am ready to be done, will actually leave an empty spot in my life.  I have been making my way to this point, making my way to accepting the loss of my marriage, the loss of the Professor.  But I realized in that moment that the loss will be even bigger than that, and the quiet, even quieter. 

It is something that it sad and scary to know, but in a soft and peaceful way.