A few days ago, I'd stumbled upon an old Photobucket account that houses my wedding pictures. (Notation: Beware of Googling thyself.) It's a link that I'd thought long lost so to see it was a bit of a shock.
I am, of course, now divorced. It was an amicable split, even as it was painful. Very few marriages dissolve without there being SOME heartache. My divorce was no different.
It signaled the end of a ten year relationship with a man I'd known since I was 17. I've since said that the failed marriage was entirely my own fault. And it was, for reasons that remain locked in my Livejournal even now. I remember feeling as if I were an anomaly, as if divorce were a midlife cliche and I, at 27, had no business filing for divorce. But what was done was done - a fact that even now I have to remind myself of.
We remain friends, seeing each other once a week or more. It's a testament to his grace and the span of our friendship. For better or for worse, we have been integrally woven into each other for over half of our lives. Thankfully, that did not fall apart simply because our marriage did.
But seeing the pictures gives me pause. I suppose in some small way it always will. Perhaps it always should. I've heard that it takes roughly half the time of the relationship to completely move on.
10 years together. Four and a half years apart.
Almost there.
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