When Alex and I were engaged the first thing we had to do was get a marriage license. We were so hopelessly in love and were excited about the task. With stars in our eyes, we headed down to the courthouse. To get to the right place, we had to walk down a very constricting hallway. The paint was drab, the tile devoid of color and the employees were just the same. There was a mix of smells. I remember stale cigarette smoke, harsh cleaning products, and cynicism, lots of cynicism; the place was rank with it. But no matter how depressing the place was, I and my husband-to-be were not phased by it. We were resolute in our decision to marry and with giddy smiles announced, "We would like to get a marriage license". The less than friendly government worker behind the counter handed us the necessary paperwork and directed us to a waiting area which was nothing more than a few broken chairs seemingly from the 1960's. Without hesitation, we filled out the paperwork and handed it back to this henchman of the state. She glared at us as our cloud of romance encircled her, I believe she choked on it, then stamped out papers and sent them to be processed.
Today Alex and I, now husband and wife of 8 years, walked down a very similar hallway. It had the same drab paint, the same colorless tile, and of course the same cynical smell. The reason for our visit had changed a bit though, we carried with us our signed divorce papers. This time the minion behind the desk was almost intolerable. She was an old woman, poorly dressed and missing a tooth in the front. She was tired of her job and I was tired for her. On this visit there was no more romance encircling us, just disappointment. We were no longer hopeless romantics we were just hopeless. We had come to the end. The woman sat there almost chiding us for having been so foolish to believe our marriage would last or at least that's how it seemed. After forking over the necessary dough, we were told to sit down and wait for our case number.
As we waited I looked down the hall at the pews resting along the wall in front of the courtrooms. There was couple after couple sitting together. Some of them were obviously there for the same reason we were; their body language conveyed that without question. But i saw one couple that I remember and will probably always remember. A very young couple; they both looked to be about 18. They were dressed in their Sunday best and by the looks of it, didn't have much money. They were there to be married. She had her arm tucked under his kind of like in the old days when a gentleman would offer his arm to a woman and she would gracefully accept. That's how she was holding onto him. Her head was rested on his shoulder and her other arm held tight to him as well. He leaned into her and rested his head atop hers. They were so happy. I saw it; the same romantic cloud, the same hopeless love, the same resolve. I wanted to warn them. I wanted to tell them that it's not all it's cracked up to be, to think it through, to turn and run for the hills. But then I was reminded of another couple very much like this one but without all the gooey love stuff.
The couple I am remembering were scheduled to be married on a Wednesday afternoon around 1 p.m. It was a very informal wedding. Heck, the groom had to convince his boss to let him off work early so he could attend! On the way to the wedding both the bride and groom admitted they weren't even sure that what they were doing was right. There were no clouds of romance, no lavish decorations, or long ceremonies. They were asked only one question, "Do you?". But they had a secret. They had what a lot of people don't have these days, commitment. After each answered the question with a, "yes", the couple started a life together that would last for 63 years. They went on to have three beautiful children, who grew up to give them 5 beautiful grand kids, and even one great grandchild. They built a life together that lasted until June 11, 2002 when the man died, his wife by his side holding his hand. She was always by his side, supporting and loving him, as she had learned to do over the years. Five years before his death, the man declared to his wife, "Mommy" (that's what he called her) "I never told you that I love you, well I do". And every day after that until he died at the age of 100, he kissed his wife and told her, "I love you."
With that in mind I kept my cynicism to myself and smiled at the sweet couple. Whispering a prayer of hope for them, I returned to my seat beside my soon to be ex-husband and began to think of the old couple who had lasted for so long, the couple with the 3 kids and the 5 grand kids of which I am one. That couple was Doc and Clara Bailey, my grandparents. They left a good legacy for me. An example of real love, the kind that lasts forever...and with it they also left me a little hope. (below: my grandparents on their wedding day. Pic 2 My grandparents on my wedding day 63 years later)
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Old Couple
Labels:
cynicism,
divorce,
divorce court,
hope,
joy,
lost love,
marriage,
older generation,
romantics,
sadness,
wedding,
young love
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Aching
It's funny... the things you learn from pain. Everybody has pain. Whether it be great or small we all experience pain. And even though we try to comfort ourselves by appreciating the fact that so many others have it worse than we do...it still doesn't lessen the pain...not even a little bit. Why is that? I think pain was designed to make you aware of danger. Meaning if you couldn't feel pain you might not realized that you just leaned against the burner and are about to loose your hand. Follow me? So I think it was intended to alert you to something that would hurt you so that you can stop it. But what about the kind of pain that we can't escape? What about emotional things...the loss of loved ones...the loss of a career...the loss of a dream....the loss of a friend...the loss of a lover? What do you do with that pain? I mean if you're leaning against a burner you quickly stop before there is any damage. But with matters of the heart...pain doesn't come until you're already too deep into it to protect yourself. Hmph.
Let me first say that I have, by no means, cornered the market on pain but over the last few years I have discovered what it's like to feel loss...in more ways than one. I have lost so much and continue to loose. I know what it feels like to ache in the most hidden places of your soul. To ache so hard that your body responds the only way it knows how...to curl up into a fetal position, the very basic of comforts, and scream and wail until there is not a tear left inside. It's funny how, even as an adult your childlike instincts can be very strong. David understood that pain. You know, David from the Bible, in Psalms?
So much has transpired in my life. As the aching in my heart got too great to bear I turned to old faithful...the Bible. l flipped open the Bible and arbitrarily landed on one verse. The page was full of words but my eyes saw only 4 of them. "He restores my soul...." (Psalms 23:3) The tears poured down my face. "He restores my soul..." There has been so much going on in my heart and my mind, it's amazing that somebody would WANT to be invited into the madness of my soul with only one purpose...to restore it.
Let me first say that I have, by no means, cornered the market on pain but over the last few years I have discovered what it's like to feel loss...in more ways than one. I have lost so much and continue to loose. I know what it feels like to ache in the most hidden places of your soul. To ache so hard that your body responds the only way it knows how...to curl up into a fetal position, the very basic of comforts, and scream and wail until there is not a tear left inside. It's funny how, even as an adult your childlike instincts can be very strong. David understood that pain. You know, David from the Bible, in Psalms?
So much has transpired in my life. As the aching in my heart got too great to bear I turned to old faithful...the Bible. l flipped open the Bible and arbitrarily landed on one verse. The page was full of words but my eyes saw only 4 of them. "He restores my soul...." (Psalms 23:3) The tears poured down my face. "He restores my soul..." There has been so much going on in my heart and my mind, it's amazing that somebody would WANT to be invited into the madness of my soul with only one purpose...to restore it.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The Cloak

Below is the first blog I wrote after my husband asked for a divorce.
The Cloak
By Cherish Rosales
I love the picture above. The woman in it looks…familiar. She appears to be in deep pain but not anger, in mourning but not fear. She is powerful not pitiful, while still in much pain. I can't see her eyes but I imagine they are beautiful yet heavy and brimmed with tears that dare not fall. Her lips don't quiver, neither her chin; they are strong. Or maybe the pain is too great and the burden too heavy leaving no strength to cry. Yes,yes that's it. She is deeply sorrowful and her heart aches; yea it is broken. Yet her head does not hang down. She covers her eyes for a moment to hide the tears but only for a moment. She is still there, still here. Still able to go on and almost excited about it. This present time shall be over and the new will be in her grasp. She will then remove her covering but for now, for now the cloak remains.
Labels:
crying,
devastation,
divorce,
empty,
gift,
grief,
heart break,
heartache,
hope,
mourning,
new beginnings,
numbness,
prayer,
sadness,
too dark
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