My d-i-v-o-r-c-e became final one year ago today. I use passive voice here not just to echo Ms. Wynette but because the actual event was an anti-climax. After exceeding the one year minimum for parties to be separately domiciled and developing an "optional but highly recommended" Mediation Agreement.
Then came the Complaint in language boilerplate enough to be downloaded. Then the Motion for Summary Judgment and then the judge, having verified the court's determination of no genuine issue of material fact remaining, granted the mutually agreed Absolute Divorce.
Doing things amicably was right--spend a little save a lot nobody wins but nobody should, not financially. I still believe in the power of penance. By the time we reached the paper trail's end our raw edges had sanded down. We'd learned to be civil and even playful.
"I can't imagine wanting to divorce someone more than you."
"Aww! I feel the same way!"
It sounds like a Ben Folds Mashup:
We lived together as husband and wife for two years and three-ish months. She moved out that long ago and more. And obscured by all the reasoned, detached, measured words was a crushing load of conflict anger and guilt that caused (and was further created by) the wreckage I created. Because the end result had to be better.
She's remarried now, I think. Haven't seen her since the day before our Absolute Divorce was decreed. One of her early worries--one she repeated that last Sunday--was that I would erase her from my life. I assured her otherwise, and added I was looking forward to it being finalized, so she could be around me if she wanted to, not due to legal requirements or because she still had stuff in my house.