Although we had been separated since September of 2006 and I had always felt like it was over the moment I stepped on the plane that flew me back to the United States, on Tuesday, November 25, my marriage officially ended with the finalization of my divorce.
The actual court date and proceedings were quick and simple: We had neither children nor property to divide so once I had sworn to tell the truth and confirmed my name and a few other details, the judge signed the papers and I left the courtroom. In less than 10 minutes, six and a half years of my life essentially became null and void.
As I walked home from the courthouse I wasn’t happy or sad. I didn’t feel bitter, angry, or numb. I wasn’t relieved or even satisfied. All those emotions had run their course long ago.
What did happen was that I understood that much like the piece of paper that legalized my marriage to begin with, my divorce was little more than a formality because I had already forgiven myself for not being able to save my marriage.
I have come to terms with what happened between A. and me and have forgiven him for what I saw as his shortcomings. I refuse to look at my marriage as a failure because I don’t think we failed. Sure, we grew apart and fell out of love, but we also recognized when it was time to move on and did so.