The first of September.
The first day of spring.
The symbolism of reawakening, rebirthing, renewing. New beginnings. New hopes. New purpose. Arise, awake, anew.
Today I would have been married 8 years.
When I planned my wedding, I chose this day specifically for the symbolism embedded within this season. It is my favourite day of the year. Symbols and signs have such a significance in my approach to life, and I wanted one of the most important days of my physical existence – the transformation from girl to woman, woman to wife – to be awash with such imagery and significance.
Over the last week I have been distinctly aware of the impending arrival of this day. The energy surrounding the memories, the moments, the stories, the feelings are overwhelming; a building tempest of emotions darkening on the horizon of my consciousness.
I turn to face this storm today head on.
I am passionately aware of the choices I have to create both happiness and sadness in my life. And today I actively choose to approach this day with light, acceptance and love. This is not to say that part of my soul is not crumbling. Which it is. This is not to say my heart does not ache in sadness and the scars that I try to wrap in bandages of positive self talk and gentle acceptance are not threatening to break open in a crimson wave of pounding pain. Because they are. What it does mean is that amongst this all, amongst the threatening tsunami of tears, I choose to breathe out, find stillness, locate the unseen sun that always shines above the blanket of clouds and smile. And be thankful.
I am thankful. And I will cry. And both of these emotions are ok.
For how can I allow a tsunami to pass through my soul without some of the waves escaping from my eyes?
I have experienced love.
I loved the boilermaker as best I could for the period of time our souls agreed to tread the steps of this life together. And I remain firmly in the belief that he in return loved me with all he was able.
I am so thankful for the time I have been able to spend with him. He is one of the most innocent, beautiful, hardworking men that I know. He taught me, pushed me, revealed to me both my strengths and weaknesses. Within and through each other our souls ebbed and flowed, pushed and pulled, connected and released. I experienced the most pleasure with him I have ever felt. I experienced the most pain with him I have ever felt.
We loved each other. We hurt each other. We grew through, together and apart.
For the period of 12 years we learnt what it was to be one with another; emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually.
Our souls splintered in euphoric release, found the tendrils of each other, entwined, and birthed two beautiful boys. And for the continuation of my life on this Earth, I will be forever thankful for the gift that has been. Forever I will hold a part of him in my heart when I hold my children in my hands.
I am distinctly aware of the importance of the decision I have to chose anger and hurt, or happiness and love, at this moment. For my choices will become the memories my boys will take with them into their own future as children of divorce. These choices I make today will become the reflections in their eyes. I do not want regret to mirror back to me when I look into the pools of their souls. Every day it will tell them I love them, and through them my love with extend to the love of the soul that created them. For the Boilermaker is within them as equally as I am.
I choose not to focus on the hurt of the past but look forward to actively participating and creating the path ahead; a path I am finally, consciously, choosing to walk.
Today, the first of September no longer symbolises the reminder and celebration of a marriage I live within, but instead it is a symbol of a relationship now evolved beyond a husband and a wife, and into a woman and a man who have agreed to remain a part of each other’s lives for the continuation of their breathing moments. We have two children, at the foundation of this relationship we move forward with the knowledge that we will always be a family. A separated family; but a family all the same. Our relationship has not ended, but in truth, has progressed to another stage; that of separated parents with its own difficulties, challenges and moments with which to look forward.
If we can move forward with this knowledge the hurt of loss and grieving becomes more bearable as we realise we have not lost something we once had, but in fact, transformed into something new.
Is that, then, not something to celebrate?
I look back over the past decade with compassion, forgiveness and a heart asking for forgiveness itself. I look back with thankfulness and joy at the moments we shared. I embrace the blessing that these memories have given me, the strength that the struggles we endured built within me, and the countless lessons I have learnt.
Thank you, Boilermaker, for loving me as you did.
I look forward to the future with an open heart, and a deep breath.