“Waiting for the Host to Start the Meeting.”
I found myself staring at a Zoom window displaying “Domestic Relations Daley Center.” On the other end of this digital space was a judge I had never encountered, two attorneys I had met only online, and the man who had been my husband for a decade, now feeling like a stranger.
As I sat in the virtual waiting room of the Illinois Circuit Court of Cook County, I reflected on the stark contrast—and surprising parallels—between my wedding day in a Greensboro, North Carolina chapel and the day it ended through a computer screen in Chicago, Illinois. Both were significant, emotion-filled moments in my life, yet presented with vastly different levels of fanfare.
On my wedding day, my dear father stood beside me, heart racing with excitement for the beautiful ceremony and the life ahead. Almost two hundred family and friends had gathered, stealing glances at me in my stunning Monique L’Huillier gown. My husband, wearing his signature grin with sparkling blue-green eyes, looked at me from the other side of the aisle.
Could the 30-year-old me have imagined that the grandeur of that day would lead to a tumultuous ten years filled with ups and downs, three daughters, and ultimately culminate in a half-hour Zoom video call? I clutched the same rosary that adorned my wildflower bouquet on my wedding day, a treasured item I had bought in Lebanon and had blessed by a local priest. As I nervously wrapped the beads around my palms, I was digitally transported in front of a judge, our lawyers, and a man whose legal status as my spouse would soon vanish.
Divorce isn’t something many of us anticipate, but if your thoughts drift to darker places, you might picture a somber courtroom with a judge poised to deliver a verdict. I was grateful to skip the formalities of a courtroom, opting for the comfort of my own bedroom. My supportive parents were nearby, watching my two-year-old, providing the same unwavering love during my divorce as they had on my wedding day.
The judge’s presence was reminiscent of the priest who married us, demanding respect and authority even though she was a stranger, unaware of the emotional journey that led us to this point. Throughout our mediated divorce, my lawyers reminded me that only the judge held the power to dictate our next steps.
As the judge recited formalities I barely understood, I gazed at a cheap plaque that read “This Girl Can” in neon pink, a gift for my daughter that I had borrowed to inspire myself during these proceedings. My soon-to-be ex-husband, now the plaintiff, answered a series of questions with “I do,” affirming the irreconcilable differences in our marriage.
I had recently invested in a new second monitor, realizing my outdated MacBook Air needed an upgrade for my transition from stay-at-home mom to single, working mom. The monitor reflected an empty room behind me, and I silently lamented the absence of witnesses to the absurdity of these “I do’s.” Thankfully, I was only required to utter one “I do,” which still felt like a cruel formality.
Suddenly, my lawyer’s face filled the screen. Previously just a small box among many, she asked if I was satisfied with my husband’s testimony and understood the settlement terms. More legal jargon followed, and the judge eventually confirmed that my maiden name could be restored.
After a pause, the judge smiled faintly and wished me luck. The professionals exchanged polite goodbyes, and one by one, the little boxes disappeared from my screen, leaving me alone in a black square.
“The meeting has been ended by the host.”
After exchanging rings on my wedding day, I had marveled at how I suddenly became someone’s wife, yet now, as I became an ex-wife, I felt surprisingly unchanged—perhaps a bit more jaded, with pieces to mend and a heart to heal, but still very much myself. I took some solace in the old saying, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
Laughter from the next room pulled me from my thoughts; “Sophia” had ended. I inhaled shakily, smiling at the humor of the situation. Here I was, old rosary in hand, new gadgets on my desk, and a borrowed sign from my daughter. Perhaps this new chapter would bring better fortune. After all, I had something old, something new, something borrowed, something… Zoomed?
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Summary:
Reflecting on the contrasting experiences of my wedding and divorce, I navigated the emotional journey of ending a decade-long marriage via a Zoom call. Surrounded by family support, I faced the judge and the reality of my situation, holding onto symbols of resilience. This poignant moment marked a new chapter in my life, blending nostalgia and hope for the future.
Keyphrase: Zoom divorce experience
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