March 2nd, 1999 - March 2nd, 2026
These dates are not meant for a tombstone.
Although they did mark the end of something.
My marriage.
They also marked the beginning of something.
My life as a divorced man.
This March 2nd marks twenty-seven years I have been divorced. I was married for ten (sort of).
I used to joke, “We’ll never make double digits” (now there’s a solid foundation for marriage). We crept over that goal line with just a few months to spare.
So many red flags waved at me before I got married, and I should have heeded their warnings.
Instead, I just waved back.
There is no one to blame but myself. I made jokes about it (see above double digit comment above). I told people our wedding song was “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. Or that if I ever got married again, that wedding song would be “Won’t Get Fooled Again”.
Jokes?
No, just more red flags that I waved at as they passed me by.
If you have never been divorced, this is how it feels.
Remember those first few years after college? Before you established a clear, strong foothold in the world?
You drove a second (or third) hand car, usually filled with the remains of some fast food restaurant.
You lived in a small one bedroom apartment because you could not afford a house.
I mean, you have a house, you just don’t live there anymore.
In that tiny apartment, that you can barely afford, you live with furniture donated from family and friends (and you’re grateful for them).
And remember those milk carton crates? The ones that once held our record albums?
Well, they return, like long lost friends, to offer support.
Support to hold up your television. Support to use as a table so you can eat dinner while you watch television (supported by other milk crates).
Well, if you loved that life after college, then you are going to love being divorced.
I have been divorced for twenty-seven years. If I had stayed married for twenty-seven years, that anniversary would be Sculpture.
So Sculpture works here just as well.
With divorce, you are handed a new block of stone and asked to chip away until you create a new life.
There was a time I talked with a marriage counselor (right after my separation), and I said, “I’ll never be able to give my kids what they have now.” She was adamant that it was not a competition.
And she was right.
In the beginning of this new life, that stone you are handed looks pretty bleak.
But that’s when you start to chip away and find the life buried underneath.
So I set a budget, my expenses had nearly doubled, so I learned to live with less (for now).
I found a place, not a mansion by any means, but it was good for me and the kids.
Speaking of kids, I was lucky with that. Even with the divorce, we did everything with them as a family. School events, sports, birthdays, and most holidays.
So that part of the new sculpture was already built.
Today, I have a townhouse and all three kids are through college, with sculptures of their own to build.
Over the years, a shape emerged from that stone. Not the same as during the marriage…
… but a shape just as strong.
