Alone

A friend from Utah telephoned this evening, and I mentioned my new marital status. He is himself a happily-married fiftysomething with a raft of fine offspring (many of them married), but he was sympathetic to my plight. His brother, he told me, was divorced many years ago and has not re-married -- this in a church and culture where long-term single men are regarded (not altogether whimsically) as "menaces to society" (that's from a statement usually ascribed to Brigham Young, though I've never seen the original source). Scott said his brother wants nothing to do with LDS women and has no expectation of ever marrying again. Regarding another mutual acquaintance, also of Utah, who's been through a divorce, Scott informed me that this good brother (who has since remarried) told him that the day he walked out of the courthouse a divorced man, he felt like doing cartwheels. "Scott," he said, "why do you think men get divorced?" When Scott had no answer, he answered his own question: "Because it's worth it."

I certainly bear my own soon-to-be-ex no ill will; in point of fact, I enjoy our association much more now that we're just friends. I frequently point out to friends and family inclined to pass judgment that we never fought during our marriage, and do not intend to start now. So I doubt very much I will share that man's unbridled jubilation when my divorce is final.

But the other observation is much, much more trenchant. Men, at least men with any shred of decency in their makeup, do not take such a drastic and painful step as divorce unless it is really, really worth it. My sex in general lacks the nuanced subtleties of a woman's understanding of the human heart, but we all know, and can anticipate, in our admittedly one-dimensional way, what the choice of divorce means: months, perhaps years of anguish, guilt, perhaps worse. It means sobbing children who cannot or (if older) will not understand. It means new long-term financial obligations and possibly restrictions on where one can live and work. It means painful, sometimes adversarial discussions with in-laws who used to be family. It can mean years of legal conflict, hard feelings, social ostracism, and all the rest. Even those of my sex (and there are many) who find their way to divorce as a result of indecorous behavior like adultery, pornography, or abuse, whose moral compasses are significantly impaired, understand the consequences of divorce.

But in the end, divorce must be (or be perceived to be) worth the cost. For me, it is. Much of my pain was front-loaded, so to speak, expended over the years when my wife and I were married in little more than name. How many nights I lay awake until the gray hour before dawn, hoping against hope, praying that somehow, the Lord would soften my wife's heart, that she would want to re-commit herself to our marriage and to our eternal covenants! How many lonely hours I spent, when she was away on extended visits to family, wishing that she would call or email of her own account, rather than wait to hear from me before sending some terse reply! How many years did I watch with something akin to envy as other men's wives expressed their love and admiration for their husbands publicly? How many times did I sit alone in the Celestial Room of the DC temple, watching other couples luxuriate in the things of eternity together?

In short, by the time I was finally ready to give up on our marriage of 17 years, most of the bonds that constitute such a relationship had already been severed. The physical act of separation (her moving out, which my brother and I accomplished in one forgettable afternoon with the help of our father's dump truck) and its aftermath was still brutally, exquisitely painful, but short. After only a week or two, I could smile at her again; by Thanksgiving, I was happy to have her share in the festivities at my parents' home, since she had nowhere else to go. This evening, when she came over to pick up Elaine, she admired the Christmas tree that my daughter and I put up yesterday and then helped give our daughter a quick but overdue bath before leaving.

And mirabile dictu, tonight was the first time Elaine left my house without tears. As daughters often do, she has shown a strong preference for being with her father, and has made that preference painfully clear every time she has to go with her Mommy. Now, however, she's coming to accept the new order of things, and knows that she'll see Daddy again in a few days.

While Elaine's grief and incomprehension were at their most acute, however, it was awful. The first time her Mommy bore her away, crying and fighting to stay with Daddy, it was all I could do to keep a "game face" until I got the door closed; then, I broke down and wept like a child, great wracking sobs that I hadn't seen the likes of since long before adolescence. One cries a lot during a divorce, by the way; if one is like yours truly, never in public, but often in private, especially during moments of pure reflection, like while commuting to work.

But all of that is past now. I knew it was coming, but could not, of course, fully appreciate how exquisite it would be, that pain of breaking a bond that was meant to endure forever. It was an experience I never intend to repeat.

But it was worth it. As I told a friend recently, I've been alone now for many years, as I've only recently come to appreciate. But it's easier by far to be lonely alone.