is gone now. At the end of my marriage, my husband invited me out to dinner – an upscale italian restaurant with all tables, no booths. Over the appetizer, he said, “I just need five more years.” I didn’t understand. He explained that our son was only 8 and if I would just stay for five more years, he wouldn’t need me so much anymore. He said he only need five things: work, eat, sleep, books to read, and sex. Then he asked me to stay, even if I just pretended. That he “loved” me.
I remember staring at him for a long long time. I remember him asking me to say something, but I was speechless. Finally I managed to say, “You don’t love me. No one who loves me could ask me to do this.”
I forgive him. Actually I thank him – for his unabashed honesty and willingness to say what was true for him. In that moment. We separated months later, taking great care to make things as stable as possible for the family.
That night I remember thinking my heart had literally stopped beating, that my ears had ceased processing sound, that the poles of the earth were pinching in toward one another. But what really happened was a bright illumination when I saw clearly what was necessary and right.
