“But I want to go to YOUR house, Sissy.”
“We can’t, baby.”

“Why not??”

That question tipped the scales and brought on a tidal wave of emotions. Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, and my throat smarted from the struggle to contain my heartache. How do you explain to your 6-year-old nephew who remembers your house that you can’t go home because you and your husband are separated?  

But I’m the grown-up, even if I’m not the parent, so instead of falling apart, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and simply replied, “We just can’t,” hoping against hope that his attention could easily be diverted by other subject matter. To my knowledge, the word “divorce” hasn’t entered my nephew’s vocabulary, and no matter the direction my life has taken, I don’t intend to be the one to introduce him or his brothers to it. It isn’t shame that binds my tongue, but there’s no need for them to fear the loss of stability in other marriages. I won’t be that aunt who saddles my little ones with my own baggage, just to leave my sister and brother-in-law to handle the collateral damage.  

Divorce is hard, no matter the length of your marriage and whether or not you have children. It is the literal tearing apart of two lives that have become one and realigning your hopes and plans to an entirely uncertain future. No doubt that life is always fragile, yet marriage, at least in my book, betokened having a built-in best friend who would still hold my hand when we were eighty. Now I’m “single again,” experiencing something nearly akin to death. My ex-husband is still very much alive, and yet that love, that intimacy, that happiness – all dead and gone. This loss wreaks absolute havoc on your heart.

Not only did I lose my lifelong companion, I lost another niece and nephew. Our niece was born while we were engaged, and I held her in the hospital on her birthday. After having three nephews, I was delighted to have a niece to spoil, but even that relationship quickly became defined by the hurdles my husband and I faced. The further we drifted, the more he excluded me from involvement in his niece’s and nephew’s lives, and my nephews became just that: mine alone. He wanted no part in their lives either.

After my husband and I separated, it was over a year before I saw my niece again, and she was still so young that she didn’t remember me at all. My heart was broken. Later still, I found myself spending time with her just once more, and as we were playing, she looked to her mom and said, “I like her!”  I choked up. This was yet another ramification of my divorce. I would have been their only aunt, but now I am gone and they will likely no more remember me than my own nephews remember their erstwhile uncle.  

My nephews may never remember having been in my wedding, and it’s not likely that I’ll remind them that their penny banks from me were gifts on that day. The two oldest boys haven’t mentioned my ex-husband’s name since I can’t remember when, and if I never mentioned my marriage again, they all might remain oblivious to my past. My hope, however, is that one day they might glean some iota of wisdom from the paths I chose. If they listen to my story, may they have the maturity to recognize the resolve by which I strove to reconcile my relationship with my husband. May they understand their own internal value enough to limit the heartache they allow others to impose on their lives. May they perceive that, with great pain, desolation needn’t be the final outcome. May they understand that divorce – or any other devastation – does not define one’s identity although it influences it.  May they see in me a life filled with grace and quiet confidence that has resulted from this struggle.  

During these past several years, their precious souls have reminded me to laugh, to love deeply, and to persevere. At a time when most folks would offer the alternative to sink or swim, I resolved to walk on water by faith, believing that by the abundant grace of God, anything is possible, whether that had been the ultimate reconciliation of my marriage or the final redemption and healing of my broken heart. They may never remember the immediate aftermath of my divorce, but my prayer is that one day their hearts will be glad to know that their aunt found strength to forgive, to refuse resentment in her heart, and to press on in her faith, even when it seemed her entire world had crumbled about her. 

Published: May 13, 2014