A marriage is irretrievably broken "where either or both parties are
unable or refuse to cohabit and there are no prospects for
reconciliation." Harwell v. Harwell, 233 Ga. 89, 91(1974).
I stared at those words on the divorce paperwork. They shone hard into my eyes, blinding me. The cry that came out of me was a sound I'd never made before outside of seeing his words to her two weeks before. "Is this what we are? Are we irretrievably broken?" It's definitely how my heart and head felt. I just didn't understand how he could waltz about in seemingly fine spirits, like none of this was actually happening. We had spent over 10 years together, made three beautiful babies together... I had thought up until THAT day that he was my best friend. I had zero clue that he'd been seeing someone else. Irretrievably broken. While I didn't want to reconcile at this point, I didn't want to lose my friend. The person I thought knew me as well as I thought I knew myself.
My Husband died that day. I grieved for what seems like years in the matter of a few weeks. My chest hurt like it would cave in on itself night after night. Wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other, my head propped up in the crook of my own arm... tears and sharp jagged sobs would rip through me. The feeling like the rug had been completely ripped out from under me and I could no longer trust whether I was up or down consumed me. Neighbors would stop me in the grocery store and ask me what the Hell happened. Nobody stopped him. Nobody stood up to him in my defense except for me.
This shell of a man, this imposter dressed as the man I loved for so long... I finally pulled myself up from the heap of flesh and bones I'd become and stared him straight in the face for the first time in weeks and handed him the completed documents to look over and contest if he needed to. As I stood up off the stoop of the front porch and brushed myself off I said, "I'm not afraid of you. MY children are not afraid of you. I don't know who you are, but I want you out of MY house. You are the ghost of my Husband, the man I loved and trusted and I cannot have his ghost haunting my house."
My Husband was dead. And this man, this person dressed in his flesh, was an imposter. He was a liar and a thief. He was a self proclaimed "healer" and fully believed in this black magic he'd turned his heart away from God for.
My Husband was dead. My Husband was dead and the two months it took to exorcise him from MY home felt like an eternity.
I stared at those words on the divorce paperwork. They shone hard into my eyes, blinding me. The cry that came out of me was a sound I'd never made before outside of seeing his words to her two weeks before. "Is this what we are? Are we irretrievably broken?" It's definitely how my heart and head felt. I just didn't understand how he could waltz about in seemingly fine spirits, like none of this was actually happening. We had spent over 10 years together, made three beautiful babies together... I had thought up until THAT day that he was my best friend. I had zero clue that he'd been seeing someone else. Irretrievably broken. While I didn't want to reconcile at this point, I didn't want to lose my friend. The person I thought knew me as well as I thought I knew myself.
My Husband died that day. I grieved for what seems like years in the matter of a few weeks. My chest hurt like it would cave in on itself night after night. Wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other, my head propped up in the crook of my own arm... tears and sharp jagged sobs would rip through me. The feeling like the rug had been completely ripped out from under me and I could no longer trust whether I was up or down consumed me. Neighbors would stop me in the grocery store and ask me what the Hell happened. Nobody stopped him. Nobody stood up to him in my defense except for me.
This shell of a man, this imposter dressed as the man I loved for so long... I finally pulled myself up from the heap of flesh and bones I'd become and stared him straight in the face for the first time in weeks and handed him the completed documents to look over and contest if he needed to. As I stood up off the stoop of the front porch and brushed myself off I said, "I'm not afraid of you. MY children are not afraid of you. I don't know who you are, but I want you out of MY house. You are the ghost of my Husband, the man I loved and trusted and I cannot have his ghost haunting my house."
My Husband was dead. And this man, this person dressed in his flesh, was an imposter. He was a liar and a thief. He was a self proclaimed "healer" and fully believed in this black magic he'd turned his heart away from God for.
My Husband was dead. My Husband was dead and the two months it took to exorcise him from MY home felt like an eternity.
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