I'm not sure how it happened or what triggered it, but as I was on my drive to my route today an old, painful memory hit me square between the eyes. I guess I was wondering how it is that I have made it this far; how it is that I was able to carry on.
Most of the memories surrounding the last days of my marriage are a blur if anything at all. Most, that is, except those two or three minutes that it took for the U-Haul to disappear from sight as it drove away. I was standing alone in the driveway of the house we called home for the past 7 years--where I would 'live' alone for the next 2 weeks--and out of the passenger window all I could see were those three little hands frantically waving goodbye. It was then that I knew my life would never be the same. It was then that I knew a whole new pain. I don't know if there's a way to describe that kind of pain. My heart was so heavy I could scarcely move a muscle, but I knew I had to wave to let them know I loved them.
In an effort to live fully from my heart, sometimes I have to open a door that I painted shut. You have just been given a brief peek behind one such door.