‘The pangs of despised love’ . . .

Forty-four years ago today I had my first date with my first husband.  We married some six months later and 23 years after that I left him.  There had been too many tears, too many disagreements, too little communication and togetherness, until the gap between us became a chasm too great to bridge.

For the sake of our two adult children I spent the next 20 years doing my best to foster, nurture, and build a new relationship of friendship with him so that we would all be able to attend family events without any elephants in the room, awkwardness, or unpleasantness.  It was a slow process but we did indeed celebrate our daughter’s wedding, cope with our son’s mental health challenges, and even enjoy the occasional warm telephone conversation, sometimes laughing together.

Then, this Summer, all that changed.  My Ex made choices that resulted in a family split so that we have all been requested to stay away from a 21st birthday celebration this weekend.  He and his son exchanged abusive messages resulting in a rift which may never be healed.  Our daughter got caught in the cross-fire.

I wept a sea of tears.

So the question is not ‘to be or not to be’ but rather whether to carry on trying to heal, to mend, to nurture, or simply, finally, wearily, to let go and walk away . . .

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