It’s been two months since we officially filed for divorce. We’ve had two meetings with the mediator so far, with a third planned for tomorrow. It’s all been very smooth, very professional and from all appearances, amicable. I think that we’re going to be nominated for the “most amicable divorcing couple” by the end of this – just ask our mediator. He doesn’t know what to think when he sees us walk in together, riding in the same car to the appointment.
That’s on the outside, of course.
On the inside there is a tug of war going on daily, and in our meetings. On the inside my brain and my body are fighting against my “better judgement” and want me to break down, lash out, get angry. But I can’t. Maybe I have a clogged heart? Or a backed up emotional outlet? Is that a thing?
I wish that I could be more angry. I wish that I could cry and wail. I wish that I could miss him. But I don’t. I honestly don’t miss him, at least not the version that I know of at this point in our lives.
I miss the old him. That guy that wooed me with a smug smile, glib answers and a Miller Lite in a smokey bar after a wedding party that first night.
I miss that guy that wore Levi’s 550 jeans (the baggy butt jeans) with a worn t-shirt or a flannel. He went fishing, played 16″ softball and basketball with his buddies, then went to the bar that sponsored the team to drink Budweiser. He laughed a lot.
I miss the guy that thought of me when we were out. He put gas in my car the first night that he met me and drove my friend home in my car while I was asleep in the front seat. He slept next to me that night, hands to himself, just to wake up with me the next day and eat orange popsicles for breakfast.
I miss so many things and moments that I remember, but that’s all I can do now. Miss them, and miss him, the old him. He’s not that guy anymore. He’s not wearing Levi’s or flannels, he rarely fishes or plays basketball. He doesn’t spend a night on the couch with me watching a movie and eating ice cream Snickers bars. That guy checked out a long time ago and I’ve been trying to live with this new (improved?) version, but he doesn’t want to live with the regular, slightly improved (or is it aged? Like a fine wine) version of me.