Shattered

My great grandmother gave me a beautiful Victorian vase passed down from her grandmother.  I often used the vase to hold dried roses, carefully preserving the brittle burgundy symbols of love.  The dead flowers displayed in my deceased grandmother's vase were simple gestures of my significance in another person's life.  The irony of the dried-up, brittle petals that were my marriage escaped me at the time. 

Several years ago I accidentally dropped the vase on the kitchen tile and it shattered into a bazillion little pieces.  Angrily, I blamed myself. Then I grieved. Upset, I scolded myself for being so clumsy.  Eventually, I accepted my reality, grabbed my broom and swept the pieces into the dustpan, forcefully tapping the remnants into the trash. For some time after, I would find shards of green vase under the dishwasher or hiding in the tile of the grout.  Every time, I scolded myself all over again, never forgiving myself for my lack of grace.

Just like my vase, the ability to piece my life back together is gone...long gone.  I wish it were as simple as scolding myself, sweeping the pieces into the trash and moving on, but life just isn't that effortless.  Instead, I continually pack pieces of my broken marriage around with me.  I have to accept the cutting remarks from my teen-age daughter, who cannot even begin to understand the complexities of the heart.  The sharp cutting pain of guilt when my little tender-hearted son's lip quivers with pain at the mere question, "how are you feeling about things lately?"  The actually word divorce is too difficult to deal with.

The difficulty with carrying around metaphorical shards of glass is that everything about divorce isn't horrible.  Starting over in its own right is freeing.  I have a certain new power over my life which is refreshing.  After so many years of continually questioning and trying to do the "right thing," I have some closure to certain answers.  However, even with the solidity of certain answers, I still grieve.  I continue to struggle with the remaining razor sharp pieces.  With time, I have discarded certain pieces, and eventually, I hope that most of the remains can be tossed aside.  Although, watching happy families enjoying one another's company in a restaurant will never be easy for me. I am forever reminded of what I couldn't rightfully preserve in my own life.  Clumsy me.