This weekend, though, I decided to push my way though the emotions. The weather is gorgeous, and I'm only home for two weeks before I "move" to Seattle for work. Here at the marina, though, the spring boaters are just starting to make an appearance. The rest of us are starting our annual maintenance; cleaning, shining, waxing... shaking the proverbial winter dust off our sails and opening the portholes to the spring breezes. I decided to join them and return to what used to be my normal life, til it all went awry.
I drove down to marina, screwed up my courage and committed to spending the night there. I made my way to the boat, chatting and catching up with all the neighbors along the way. I changed into shorts and a bikini top, got out the teak oil and fell into my springtime routine of refinishing the woodwork- something I've always loved. My box of oiling supplies- sandpaper, brushes, rags, teak oil- was still where I'd hidden it last spring when he had insisted on taking all "unnecessary supplies" off the boat. On deck, my handrails were still partially sanded, when they'd been abandoned last spring, slightly more gray for the weather. The sun shone above, voices and faint music floated over the water, and I settled into a blissful state of non-thinking.
Hours later, hands cramped and arm muscles burning, I retired inside, turned on some music and made myself at home were I'm happiest: in the kitchen. But slowly, as the night darkened and despite my best efforts at avoiding, the echoes of the past floated through the air, "my beautiful bride" was whispered by the ghost of his memory, and his presence -as overwhelming as it always was- seemed to permeate every nook and cranny of the boat. I dreaded going to sleep, the v-berth seeming cavernous and empty. I crawled into bed, lost in the emptiness, and rearranged the pillows snugly against me- both as a barrier against the past which held me firmly in its grip, and as a comfort, a replacement for a lover that once held me close here.
Memories -both good and bad, for I'm no fool wearing rose colored glasses- held me hostage 'til I finally surrendered the past to sleep.
I normally sleep the sleep of innocents and babies on the boat. Last night, I slept the sleep of the tortured. Finally, about 530 this morning, I fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion, and when I woke late this morning I was tired, but somehow lighter.
Whether it was subconscious or not, I had taken off my ring yesterday before I went down to the boat, for the first time in 13 months to the day it was put on, and exactly four months to the day he left. I didn't realize it in the moment of taking it of. I just did it. I left it on my bathroom sink, and it sits there still. But I'll admit I have noticed its absence.
The hard part is knowing he left by choice. It was intentional. Planned. And a complete surprise to me. So I don't know how to grieve, really. How does one grieve for something they only thought they had? Because I realize, what I believed was there, what I changed my entire life for, what I opened my kids to... was not actually real. It was not healthy, it was not real, it was utterly devastating and almost destroyed my family.
He cheated, he lied, he made promises knowing he'd never keep them. I can't believe I ever trusted him, but now I'm here on the other side, having survived. Stronger. Smarter. And more aware of who I really am, and where I want to be. And the kids and I came through it, closer and stronger as a family.
So despite your pathological character, and your selfish ego that supersedes all else, we survived you, Trevor. And all I have to say is good luck- karma is a bitch and usually comes when you least expect it.
