Eulogy
With my thumb I find myself feeling for it, absentmindedly rubbing the space where it used to be, like an amputee reaching out to scratch a phantom limb.
The box is a tiny porcelain one Jamie and M gave me this past Christmas. That ring needed, deserved, a special home after spending eight full years attached to my body. This seemed the fitting resting place for it.
I constantly feel as though I'm expected to say profound things about what's happened, when most of the time my brain can't work up a coherent statement about any of it beyond the sadly ineloquent blurting of this fucking sucks. I suspect it's the same feeling that seizes the person tasked with delivering the eulogy at a funeral. How can you sum up an entire life in a way that can possibly do it justice, and do so without resorting to diminishing sentimentality, cliche, or hyperbole? The answer, of course, is that you can't. I suppose the best you can do is try to say something real and honest and true. So.
Those eight married years, and the two we were together as a couple before them, were special and important and have everything to do with who I am, who I've become. I'm grateful for them, for all the good and all the bad of them, and for the gift of our beautiful daughter. But that life is over now. And as sad as the death of that life is, and as much as we may wish it were not the case, we can't bring it back. And so we have no choice but to let go of it and move on, to remake ourselves as a new kind of family in a new life, together and apart. And I believe, I have to, that in the end all three of us will be better than okay. I believe we'll be happy. I do.
On the other side of this fire, seedlings are stirring under the ashes.











It's been 10 months since I removed my wedding ring, and every now and again my thumb still looks for it...especially during times of uncertainty. Even though there's no looking back, there's still a small twinge of sadness there when I don't find it.
I feel your pain, girl. Hang in there. It does get better, I promise.
Posted by: MommaSunshine | 12 July 2009 at 08:03 PM
of course you will be happy again, anew, in this next phase of life. it's darkest before the dawn and other such things that The Dark Knight taught us. ;-)
Posted by: kdiddy | 12 July 2009 at 08:04 PM
Oh Tracey. My heart goes out.
Posted by: Mom101 | 12 July 2009 at 08:04 PM
God.
Reading this ripped my heart out.
There is nothing as amazing as reading words of hope from you while you're in the middle of such pain.
you are amazing.
Posted by: Bee | 12 July 2009 at 08:05 PM
I cannot even imagine.
Posted by: jodifur | 12 July 2009 at 08:12 PM
Love you.
Posted by: Dana | 12 July 2009 at 08:33 PM
If we were at a funeral, I'd probably just put my arm on your back in a sort of silent, "This sucks and I have nothing to say but want you to know I'm here and I heard you." Since we're in the blogosphere and not at a funeral, I can't do that. Although I guess telling you that I would do it is pretty similar.
Still, this sucks. :(
Posted by: Lara | 12 July 2009 at 08:58 PM
You are so strong for keeping a positive outlook through all of this... M will appreciate your clarity of thought someday, mark my words.
Posted by: Naomi | 12 July 2009 at 09:25 PM
Wow.......just wow. Just keep keepin' on honey, that's all you can do...
Posted by: Karina in T.O | 12 July 2009 at 09:28 PM
"And I believe, I have to, that in the end all three of us will be better than okay. I believe we'll be happy. I do."
You will. You will.
Much love.
Posted by: Prosemonkey | 12 July 2009 at 09:46 PM
Hang in there. I'm so sorry.
Posted by: Fairly Odd Mother | 12 July 2009 at 10:10 PM
I am sad for you, yet proud of you. I am wishing things were different, yet cheering you on and can't wait to see where your new life takes you. No matter what, I know you will be okay. The journey will be tough sometimes, but you will end up okay. And...you never know what you will find out about yourself, and about life, along the way.
Posted by: Momo Fali | 12 July 2009 at 10:36 PM
I think I mentioned before that I so admire the strength it takes to clearly see the end of things and to embrace the beginnings. xo
Posted by: marie | 12 July 2009 at 10:38 PM
I haven't worn my ring for 6 years. My divorce will be final in under a month. You do eventually heal and move on but you'll never forget who the two of you were together. Nor should you. **hugs** I'm sorry you're going through this hon.
Posted by: NotAMeanGirl | 12 July 2009 at 11:02 PM
My first marriage legally lasted 9 years. I wore my ban almost every hour of those 9 years. I remember those months after the seperation...having to wear my ring in order to sleep...missing the rythm I could make on a shopping cart...fidgeting with the strange feeling skin that was uncovered after years of having gold there.
It gets better. I have another ring now. But even before that, I realized my hand was whole without the ring. I married a women I didn't feel I needed a ring with. A woman I knew I would be with forever, with or without vows. With or without a ring. And that is exactly WHY I married her.
Posted by: Bryan | 12 July 2009 at 11:42 PM
you are an amazing soul. your happiness will come again, bright and unexpected
Posted by: flutter | 13 July 2009 at 12:24 AM
Tracy, I know that every experience of this is very individual, but know that there are many of us that have been there, and we are praying for you. I was married for 22 years, and had 4 children. I only have one left at home with me but I like to believe that we are a good comfort to one another. I still have the imprint of the ring on my finger, and now I just see it as a visible sign of a deeper imprint on myself from all those years.
Blessings to you and M, I know you will make it just fine.
Posted by: Laina | 13 July 2009 at 08:19 AM
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Posted by: harrytimes | 13 July 2009 at 08:41 AM
It's a beautiful box, and a painful-sweet post. I'm thinking of you so much... Send you big hugs.
Posted by: daisybones | 13 July 2009 at 09:27 AM
You sound like you have found a teeny measure of balance between pain and hope. I hope each day brings you closer to peace.
Posted by: Velma | 13 July 2009 at 10:07 AM