To Those Who Departed:
True understanding of pain often eludes us until we find ourselves in the midst of it, grappling with its weight and eventually emerging on the other side. At the onset of my separation from my now ex-husband, my life was in utter disarray—literally unraveled. I was emotionally shattered by a pivotal decision I had made. The fallout on my family? Well, chaos doesn’t truly capture it.
I recognize that I made a choice, one that you might not support. I understand that my actions may have hurt you and others in ways you may never fully grasp. Some of you might read this and think, “I didn’t abandon her; she turned her back on all of us!” Perhaps that’s a valid perspective, depending on how you choose to interpret the situation.
If you ever knew me, you likely remember me as a good person. If you once held affection for me, you know I possess a warm heart. If you cared for me, there was probably a time I supported you through challenges (without judgment). If we shared laughter, you appreciated my sense of humor. If we cried together, we forged a bond. If we engaged in deep conversations, we were open and vulnerable with one another.
But now, you may feel like you no longer know me. And I sense your anger. Anger at my transformation. Anger stemming from the hurt I’ve caused. Perhaps my choices have inadvertently affected you, leading you to label me selfish, manipulative, or even a villain—whispered judgments reaching my ears through the grapevine. I see you, and I hear you.
You’ve evaluated my decision and formed your own narrative about my life, my marriage, and my departure. You’ve come to the conclusion that I’m unworthy of your time and energy, deciding to walk away.
Everyone processes grief differently. Before I could approach any of you to share my struggles, I needed to first navigate and comprehend them myself. I sought companions who would extend patience and understanding, who wouldn’t craft their own tales about me but would await my own story. I craved unconditional love, not to be cast aside. I needed you to not take my situation personally. I required time—time to gather myself before reaching for those who extended their hands, who stood by me without faltering.
Yet many of you chose to let me go. And that’s okay. I’m not upset with you. I understand.
However, I want you to know this: I will always remember you. I’ll recall being present at your wedding, tears streaming down my face as I stood beside you. I’ll cherish the moments we shared over glasses of wine, helping each other navigate our lives. I’ll remember our time as roommates, dancing together until dawn. I won’t forget your birthdays, nor the significant life events we experienced side by side. These memories will remain etched in my heart, a bittersweet swirl of emotions. I’ll smile when I hear about your marriage, your new baby, or your happiness.
But I’ll also be right here if life throws you a curveball, if you face upheaval, or if everything seems to fall apart. I’ll be here without judgment. I won’t speak ill of you. I’ll listen and strive to understand. And if I can’t grasp your situation, I’ll still be there for you. If you don’t return my messages, I’ll persist in reaching out. I won’t take your pain personally. I’ll create a safety net for you, should you ever need to rely on it. I will be your safe haven, without question.
Because I could never erase what we shared or the experiences we had together. I will always hold love for you, unconditionally. Regardless of the choices you make, I will forever remember the essence of who you are.
And you are good.
I will always remember that you are good.