All day long on the 12th, the date was nagging me. There was nothing going on, nothing I missed, no one's birthday. I couldn't put my finger on it but it felt like *something* more significant than it was just the day after the 11th. Finally, at 8pm at night, while skyping with A I realized what it was.
September 12 was my former wedding anniversary. For seven years in my twenties, it had been a big day. The seventh year was the biggest because it was also the day we split up. Our divorce was supposed to have been final on September 12th of the following year, but the attorney was a bit lax on getting the paperwork in so we weren't finalized until mid-October.
In counseling, we'd call this lack of recognition progress and healing. Which I guess it was. But it feels just as strange to have lost what was once such a significant day as it does somewhat awkward to remember it when I'm (happily) married to someone else.
We had met in High School; in the band. We dated, moved away to college together and eventually got married just short of the 6 year mark. I was 21 and he was 22 and at the time, it just seemed like the natural progression- we had no reason to break up, so why not get married? After college we moved back to CA and started our real lives. I was immersed in a job surrounded by women and moms. I decided I was ready for a family. He was immersed in a job surrounded by techies and yuppies. He wanted that life. We had Kidzilla and while things were never bad, they were never that great either. About two weeks before that final anniversary things came to a head where we knew they had to change somehow. Those weeks of misery and tears ended when we decided to split for a while and he moved out. About six weeks later he ended up meeting the woman he is now married to. About six weeks after that, I met A. I don't think either one of us was expecting to meet someone else so quickly, we were still mulling over the get back together options at the time, but it seems to have worked out for the best. Even though it alternately delights me and freaks me out that he (and the new wife) are still fairly close with my parents. Like my parents invite them for dinner and attended their wedding close.
Even though I *KNOW* that I am happier now than I was in that marriage there is still one thing that I'm not sure I can ever forgive him for and that I'll always wonder about. He never put up any kind of fight to keep me. Why? Was our family really not worth it? Never did he say "wait, this isn't what I want" or anything like that. He just kind of blithely accepted it all. I think at the time, it gave me the strength to power through what had to be done, but still, it will always hurt to know that he didn't think enough of us or want his family enough to fight for us. At all.
Looking back, I have no regrets about the decisions I made and where it's led me to now. But I think the unanswered questions will always be there. I'm not sure I would want to know the answer though.