New Waters

“Mom, the brothers (that’s my sons’ group name) and I had a conference call and they voted that I should be the one to tell you some news.”

Now I don’t know how you feel, but anytime my kids have a conference call about me, it puts my brain on high alert. Conference call means serious business. With Trey’s first sentence, “Butch is getting married” immediately popped into my mind.

“Dad told us yesterday that he and Nancy are engaged.”

“Oh, wow,” I said.

Long pause.

“When?” I asked.

“March,” he answered.

So I was right. It was the surprise I felt that seemed, well, like a surprise. But there was something else. I couldn’t describe it exactly.

It was about the time that I filed for divorce when Butch told me that he had met a woman during his daily walk. I had known then that he would get married as quick as he could after our divorce. All I said at the time was “Well, then you’re gonna be all right.”

As it turned out, we–Butch and I–had several friends in common with this woman whose name is Nancy. News sifted down to me through the grapevine that Butch was seeing her frequently. He even took her to a party given by one of our friends. I found out about this from one of my best friends was also there. It dawned on me then that Butch’s new relationship wasn’t just hearsay or gossip or a passing thing. He was seriously dating her. I wondered then how long it would be until he married her.

This left the question of our sons. Should I tell them? Was it my place to tell them? Or should Butch do that? I began to notice that sometimes when I was with one of my kids, it seemed that they had something they wanted to say but didn’t. I wondered if they knew about Nancy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to broach the subject. This was all new territory. I felt awkward about telling them that their father was even dating, much less that it was so quickly after our divorce.

Finally one day when Trey was visiting me, he took a deep breath and said, “Mom, I think you should know, Dad is dating someone.”

Well, there it was, out in the open.

“Yes, I know. I’ve known for quite a while.” And then I told him all that I knew.

“When did you find out?” I asked.

“Dad told us at Christmas while we were sitting around the fire at the chiminea.”

That was three weeks after our divorce was final. That shocked and angered me. I remembered how difficult the holidays had been for all of us. Why had he told them then?

So everyone had known for months. But my kids did not know I knew. And I did not know they knew. I had told them very early on that I didn’t want them to tell me what Butch was doing and I didn’t want them to tell Butch what I was doing. He and I would communicate those things ourselves or at least that was my intention. While I was surprised that they had kept the secret so long, I was also gratified that they had honored my wishes.

And so now he was getting married. Even though I knew it was coming, I was shocked. We hadn’t been divorced a year and he was already engaged. On the other hand, I wasn’t surprised. I was sure he’d find someone as quick as he could because he needed someone to be with. Nancy turned out to be the one.

Besides being shocked, I was sad and disappointed that he didn’t tell me himself. We were divorced but time and experience had not yet done it’s work of separating our lives from each other. Yes, it would have been hard for him to tell me just as it would have been hard to hear it from him. But, I asked myself, didn’t he owe me the courtesy? Nevertheless, I hoped he would be happy and that the marriage would work out for both him and Nancy.

As time moved toward wedding day, I ruminated over my feelings. It was hard for me to figure out the why of the hurt. Ambivalent feelings moved along like a roller coaster, up and down and all around, looking for a place to land.

I didn’t understand how building a life with someone new was going to be any easier than it would have been if he had fought for me and our marriage.

Knowing that he had already found someone to spend his life with exacerbated my loneliness.

Feelings of inadequacy because I hadn’t stayed in my marriage peppered my thoughts with what-ifs and if-onlys.

I felt like a dirty paper plate left behind after the party is over.

The closer the wedding day came, the sadder I became. And the more the questions roiled in my mind. Why did he not fight for me? Why did he not care that I was unhappy? On the other hand, I was the one who wanted out of the marriage so why was I feeling so awful?

When my counselor suggested that I think about reconciliation, I didn’t want to. However, Paul explained that this was my last opportunity. Once Butch was remarried there was no going back. A couple of times in the past I had considered reconciliation but the considerations didn’t go very far before I decided that I didn’t want that. However, this time I made a serious study of it. I made lists of advantages and disadvantages, of whys and why-nots. In the end I was certain. I did not want to try again with Butch.

Finally, all the questions and roller-coaster feelings came down to this: it wasn’t important that he was married to me. Anybody would do as long as he was taken care of and people thought he was a good guy. I didn’t know if that conclusion was actually true. After all, it was only a thought. Nevertheless, it fit with my experience of Butch and it seemed right, or at least close enough to right to be satisfying. My obsessive brain finally had something to settle on and that brought calm.

And then, as God does, he arranged for us to have a private interaction. It happened like this:

Butch got our house in the divorce. He was going to sell it and move into Nancy’s house. He contacted me and asked if I was ready for the furniture that he was holding for me. I had just moved into my two-bedroom apartment and I finally had room for it. He also asked if there was anything else I would like to have. So we settled on the items I would get and a date for me to come get them.

As I drove to San Antonio in my U-Haul van, I was very nervous. I knew this was not going to be an easy errand. First time back in my house, seeing my two cats, and being alone with Butch. And, as I expected, it was hard. When I first got there we started moving things off of a cabinet that I was going to take. I was putting them on some other shelves in another room. I was surrounded by the things we had owned together and the memories held in each object and in the house itself. My emotions got the better of me.

Butch noticed. “Do you need a hug?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s really hard with you getting married.”

“I’ll always love you,” he admitted.

“I’ll always love you too,” I confessed.

And that was it. We released the hug. I dried my tears and got back to work. We finished the task pretty quickly. The furniture loaded, I left and drove back to Austin. I was right; even though it was difficult with Butch’s remarriage, I did not want to reconcile. I would grieve and heal. And be all right. That afternoon my son, Joe, helped me unload and I returned the van. Whew! Done and done.

As the wedding day approached, I decided I wasn’t going to sit at home on wedding weekend. I tossed around ideas. Go to someplace fun and exciting and spend the weekend? I was already planning to go to Spain in a couple of months. Planning another trip just didn’t have any appeal. Spend the weekend at a spa being pampered? Lying around having a facial and a massage with plenty of time to think did not seem like a smart thing to do. So I couldn’t quite get excited about either of these options. I played Mahjongg with two girlfriends from high school; we knew each other very well. One of the girls lived in a beautiful house on Lake LBJ. They suggested that we go to the lake and have a Mahjongg marathon. Now that was an idea I could get excited about. Close to home, being with dear friends who understood and cared about me and doing something that used my mind. Finally a plan.

Kathy and I arrived at Kathie’s beautiful house on Lake LBJ—yes, two Kathys and one Kay. It was a beautiful sun-shiny early Friday afternoon, the wedding day.  We played Mahjongg, ate and drank quite a bit of very good wine.  That night we watched a movie, The Way, about the Camino which is where I was going in Spain.  When the movie was over, Kathy checked Facebook.  Butch and Nancy had both updated their status to “married” and posted photos from their wedding.  This was the first time I saw Nancy.  Briefly.  And only because my friends insisted.

At last was over and done. They were married. A new chapter of my life as a divorced woman had begun. I was truly the ex-wife; there was now a new Mrs. Gerfers, new member of the family, not related to me in any way, but related to my kids. Changes were going to take place in our relationships. What was that going to look like? New waters to navigate. Again.

Thanks for dropping by for a read. Doing all right,

Woodpile Kitty