Late summer of ’92. Bent over, arms on knees, resting, trying to recover from a long hard row against the tidal current. Pleased with this not-so-easy accomplishment. Too bad there wasn’t an audience, someone to do the clapping, to deliver accolades. She is no longer here, my wife. Perhaps she is with him right now. Having a morning coffee, or sharing a shower.
Back then, before the recovery, I was adrift and afloat in self-pity. Wondering for the hundredth time. What did I do to deserve this? Why me? Why did our friends abandon me too? The questions unanswered, floating out to sea, then sinking.
It’s was like this for a while, owning this deep feeling of loss and hope. Still expecting her to show up at our favourite dock-side restaurant, her smile radiating, her arms open. At home the deck lights were always on, waiting her return. Sitting at the window, watching the rain, waiting for the taxi.
The emotional steps leading from the first shock of betrayal to the cleansing action of divorce is similar to the steps dealing with death. And in the early stages I sometimes preferred death. Friends tried to help with their...
To view and download this full PLR article, you must be logged in. Registration is completely free. Once you create your account, you will be able to browse, search & downlod from our PLR articles database of over "1,57,897+" on 1,000's of niches and 200+ categories without paying a penny. Click here to signup...
