I miss my little white dog. I miss his boundless affection and companionship, his burrowing under the covers early in the morning, his sweetness and loyalty. Having been a rescue, he didn’t deserve another separation.


I miss the woman I married now nearly five years ago. I loved her, and I believe, at that moment, she loved me. Or she wanted to believe she loved me.

I do not miss the woman she became.

A year into our marriage she withdrew all intimacy and affection. It wasn’t replaced by rancor or anger or even ill feeling. It just disappeared, without much explanation. When I would hold her hand walking down the street she would quietly slip it away. Our bed became the place only where we slept.

Four years into our marriage she declared her intention to end our marriage. No rancor or anger, only a deadening fog of distance, deeper withdrawal, and sad loneliness.

That woman I do not miss. I’ve searched for meaning, for some explanation that would absolve her, and me. Last night a friend asked me, knowing what I know now, what would I have done differently? Would I have asked her to marry me? Would I have accepted her early withdrawal with the same equanimity? Would I have been content to go on living with not good enough? Would I have expressed myself more, my desires, my fears? Would I have said anything?

All of that is past, and not helpful to recount. It’s just what happened. As she told me, we were never trudging the road of happy destiny together. There was never a together.

More important matters concern me now. As I write, Adam is undergoing his first chemotherapy infusion. My close friend Ray is napping following his yesterday’s chemotherapy infusion. These are real life issues, not the artificial pain of divorce.

My former wife fades into a distant background, isolated in the clarity of her vision. May she be in peace.


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