Waxing - Letter to an Ex 5/09

I have this folder on my laptop called "Important".  In this folder are things that are... well... important.  Anyway, in this folder is another folder titled "Waxing".  No this is not some fetish thing or anything like that... it has some of the things that I just randomly write (my digital journal, if you will).

So if I am going to blog and I am going to share who I am with random people, then perhaps I should start there. I will share something more recent that the paper journals with tear-stained pages.

"Letter to an Ex" - May 2009

It was so hard sitting next to you in court.  I tried so hard not to cry, not to look weak or fragile.  My focus was on the words I would say and the scenarios that would bring them up.  I struggled to hold my tongue, to control the stutter when it was my turn to talk, and sit up straight with my hands crossed in front of me. I was so nervous, and you seemed so calm.  I really just wanted to run over and hug you. I wanted you to touch my face. I wanted to be closer to you. I wanted to smell you, to kiss your lips and stare into your beautiful blue eyes. Then you spoke. You wouldn’t say my name. You refused to call me by my first name. You kept saying Miss. Miss. Miss. What the hell?  When did I become Miss Nobles.  First of all it’s MS (thank you very much).  And second of all, I spent the last four years of my life with you, shared a child, a home, a car, a life with you.  You can’t call me by my name anymore?  What is going on?  Is this a formality?  Did your lawyer tell you to do this?  

My heart aches for time with you and you antagonize me with spitefulness.  Then as if that were not enough, you turn around and tell me over and over again what a terrible person I am, and how mean I am.  You obviously do not know me, not very well.  This is in part why my heart aches.  The tears I cry for you are not always about what I miss.  Sometimes, most times they are tears for what still lied ahead of us.  The many things we would have done and seen together, the words we could have spoken, the good moments and the bad.  The tears I cry are for the things you are missing; the moments with our son.  Sometimes out of nowhere he will do something incredible and I turn to see if you saw it, but you’re not there.  You’re missing so much, and you haven’t got a clue.  My heart aches for your loss, a loss you won’t even miss.  It’s one that our son will though, and my heart aches for him, as he gets older.