I Would Do Anything For Love, But...

Eventually word began to spread about my situation. I was quickly overwhelmed by how lucky I am to be surrounded by good, loving people. Ironically, when Jon and I were newly married he had a very strong opinion that small towns were the worst. Everyone knows your business and everyone gossips. I mean, he wasn't wrong. But I didn't think he was right either. Yes, I was guilty of talking with my parents about the people in our orbit, but it was rarely malicious or judgmental. For the most part it was just a genuine interest in what was taking place in the lives of people I knew, questions I would ask someone in person if I bumped into them. Admittedly, there were times the conversation became more "gossipy," which was usually when someone made a freaking stupid, completely avoidable mistake... Perhaps Jon's words were a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Anyways, soon enough I became the very fortunate recipient of more love and service than I could fathom. I had friends hire a cleaner to come to my house twice a month. Another friend brought me more groceries than I had ever bought at once for our family in my entire life. Another friend brought me a pop and sat and visited with me. And another friend invited me over for dinner. I'm positive I'm missing many more acts of kindness, these are just what I managed to write about in my journal. If I missed anyone, I'm sorry! And still so grateful!

The night I went to a friend's house for dinner, Jon came out to Raymond and had dinner with the kids and put them to bed. When I got home from my Young Women's activity that night, Jon and I awkwardly danced around having a conversation.

"How are you doing?"

Not good. I told Graeme (his roommate) why we separated. He's really mad at me.

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, I'm worried he's going to kick me out.

"Shoot, I'm sorry."

Painfully awkward silence.

Have you thought at all about what you want?

"What do you mean?"

About maybe getting back together?

*Shocked and a bit speechless*

"Uhh, not really." - Meanwhile, what's going through my head is how much easier the last couple weeks have been without the mental gymnastics of keeping up appearances, waiting for him to change, waiting for an apology, etc.

I realized I needed to be honest, despite how hard it would be to say:

"I guess I don't really see us getting back together. I'm sorry."

And then it happened. After almost 3 months of deceit, indifference, and apathy towards our marriage, Jon finally showed remorse for his actions. And it was devastating.

As a parent, you're used to seeing your kids hurt. They get hurt physically and you comfort them. They get their feelings hurt and you hold them. You are constantly, day in and day out, rushing to the aid of your beloved children. Underneath it all you even know that it's good for them to encounter a little hardship and opposition here and there, but at the end of the day, you'd do ANYTHING to take away what ails them and make their life easier. What you don't see very often is your spouse in pain. Even after all the heartache Jon had put me through for the past 3 months, seeing him awash in regret and remorse was like a knife in my chest. Simply put, I still loved him, he had been my husband for almost 11 years. And I wanted to take that pain from him so badly, it hurt me to see him hurt. I guess Meat Loaf sums it up best, because I would have done anything for Jon in that moment, but I couldn't see us getting back together.

Fortunately the conversation doesn't last much longer as we're both now in tears. As Jon goes to leave, he turns back and utters his first sincere apology. And I believed him. He really was sorry. But it was too late.

After he left I started sobbing uncontrollably. All the pain I had felt up until this point seemed miniscule compared to this moment. And I couldn't bear it alone. I called my parents and they quickly came over to sit with me. To talk me through what I had just admitted to Jon. To help me hold up under an emotional burden I thought would crush me.

When I was finally composed, they said good night and I got myself in bed. Which is when I began to remember the night Jon refused to tell me he loved him. And how he had sat there and watched me weep. How? How could he do that? Because seeing him fall apart earlier that night had been more than I could bear.