Here is the strange part. I didn't see my exhusband. I saw someone I used to call, "friend." He looked content, and the lady with him glowed of happiness too. I found myself smiling at his happiness, and I said a prayer to wish them well. Now, here's the really strange part: I meant it.
One knows these things will happen, but it isn't possible to predict reactions. Somehow, it was good for me. I felt weights fall off of me. I never had to, but the notion that I had to keep thinking of him to somehow be there to take care of him fell off of me like so many scales. I believed all along that the Universe would look after him, but seeing this lady, made me trust it more. I'm glad she's there. I know he'd have been ok anyway, but I feel more at peace.
Now, lest this sound too wierd, I've never been one to be able to muster jealousy. I never wanted to waste my time or the other person's. If they could be happier elsewhere, then I probably would too. Such is the case, infact. The relief is in while he never was *my* problem, my worry or mine to care for, I somehow let that notion go only seeing a few photos. Small miracle, to me.
Ofcourse, I didn't friend the ex-family member. Best to walk in peace, no strings.
It's been a journey this healing from divorce. It's been near three years now. I painted during the last months of the marriage of my own internal censorship falling away. I'd blamed him, but it was mine.
"Emancipation of Corpus Stradivarius"
Oil on Canvas
Directly following the separation, I painted headlong into the feelings. Embracing them helped me walk through them.
Oil on Canvas
It seemed fitting to close this chapter with another painting, so I took to my solace of canvas, and found freedom there. What came was more than the butterfly with delicate wings of those three years ago. The heart that bled was left behind. I felt myself opening, unafraid. I showed it to a friend, and interestingly to me, they thought the wings looked more like those of a locust. Fitting, I thought, how they come every seven years, appear to die off, and reemerge stronger and more whole. I don't know what's ahead. For now I'm letting the sun warm my wings, and forgive a little self admiration, but I've grown, and I think they are glorious.
Acrylic on Canvas