Beautiful Death

Something I loved died today.

I woke up and got ready as I would do any other day, keeping in mind that I had an important appointment to attend.  I showered and drank my coffee in silence -- no TV or music to accompany my routine on this day.  I dressed appropriately for the occasion, although I made my wardrobe choices unconsciously.  Donning dark gray pants and a gray on gray striped sweater, I walked outside to find that the world was covered in the thickest fog I have ever seen in daylight.  As a result, I prepared myself for a possibly tense drive over the next hour or so to my destination during the always excruciating Atlanta rush hour.

I began my drive with a local radio station, and found that it was a bit too chipper for my mood.  I instead hit the button to switch to the CD in the player, a collection of piano concertos.  Better.  I tried to keep my mind blank as I drove through the blanket of mist.  But after about 20 minutes of that, I knew I needed to let myself be in the moment of what would happen today, and what it would finally mean.

I was on my way to a courthouse where a total stranger would sign a piece of paper that says what I have known for longer than I care to admit...my marriage is over.  Legally...officially...over.

I have had to fight a battle I never could have anticipated in a million years to get to this day...sacrificed security, sanity, immeasurable emotional energy and thousands of dollars (some earned, but most borrowed) to make this day a reality.  What a strange irony it has been to fight so hard and invest so much in something that I never, ever wanted.

Have you ever noticed that death is sort of beautiful?  You may understand what I mean if you have ever  lingered at the bedside of someone who is actively dying, especially if it is an elderly person or someone who has had ample time to prepare themselves and their loved ones for their passing.   I have experienced this very thing, and I felt so blessed, so....AWED that I was able to witness and participate in such a sacred journey.

It is a very different experience, however, when you are with someone who has not accepted their time to pass, or someone who is being taken before their time because of a terrible event or accident.  In this circumstance, death is a violent thing to watch...so many people fighting to save a body that has already declared that it has finished its work and has nothing left to give.  Sometimes death is cheated; but, more often, it is only delayed.  The body knows when it's time to go -- you can talk to any hospice nurse and they can tell you this is true.  The appetite disappears, because digestion becomes impossible.  Vitals slow and organs shut down.   The person will often claim to have conversations with loved ones who have already passed, or even talk about leaving for a trip, sleeping with their legs swinging over the side of the bed, as if ready to jump up at a moment's notice.  Natural death, when left to its own progression, can be quite peaceful.  Everything inside the body finally just goes to sleep.

It is when we seek to force something that is dying to soldier on in the land of the living that things get ugly.

As I drove, I thought about my marriage, and the dream it represented.   I mentally flipped through snapshots of the day this dream was born -- my wedding day.  Me standing on a soft green lawn in my wedding dress with my father's arm linked through mine, looking down at my grandma's handkerchief in my hand -- it was my "something blue."  Dancing with my new husband, with all the people I loved in the world looking on.

As I watched that young brunette in her beautiful white gown celebrate the birth of her dream, I found myself wondering what I would say to her if I had the chance.  If I could go back in time and tell her anything...anything at all to spare her from the coming pain...what would I say?

The answer came as a surprise.  I would not tell her to stop.  I would not tell her to run away and never look back.  

I would tell her to take off her blinders and see the truth for what it is.  I would tell her that she needs to explore who she is without a man standing next to her.   I would tell her that control is an illusion.  I would say that wanting to be loved and adored are reasonable expectations, and having those expectations do not make her a bad person.  I would tell  her that even when she thinks she doesn't have an ounce of strength left to fight for what she knows is right and true and good, she will find it.

I would tell her that, sometimes, love isn't enough.

Then I would kiss her cheek and send her down the aisle.  Because if I stopped that girl, she wouldn't be the person she is today.  The terrible, wonderful, beautiful mess that she is.  She wouldn't have a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes who makes the sun and stars and planets dim in comparison.  And that would be a far greater tragedy than having to survive every ounce of pain that waits for her.

Death is so painful.  But it is as much a part of life as birth is.  It is also the gateway through which new life emerges.   This theme of death as a means to new life is written into our very existence...in each animal playing its part in the food chain...in the change of the seasons every year...even in the story of our faith.  Doesn't God say that the only way to truly know Him is to "die" to ourselves?  And isn't the pivotal event of the Christian faith - Christ's death on the cross and resurrection - our only means to live eternal life in heaven someday?

I arrived at the courthouse, waited my turn, and with very little fanfare, I was granted a divorce today.  As I sat in my car holding that piece of paper that signified the death of my beautiful dream, I took a mental snapshot of the moment...the texture of the walls in the parking garage, what piece of music was playing on the CD, the dull ache in my chest...and the tears that I expected, but never came.

As I pulled onto the highway toward home, the fog had only lifted to far enough to obscure the tops of the skyscrapers, leaving the last of the fall foliage visible.  In only days, this quilt of amber and sienna covering the city will turn brown and fall to the ground, only to be whisked away by the winter wind.

It is a beautiful death.