2007 (Written: 12/16/07)

Jordan, Lyndsi & Logan Matthews
December 24, 2008

I sit and listen to the sounds of teenagers, laughing and having fun. My sons are home from college for the Christmas holidays and my home is more full than usual. Tonight there are eight teenagers of various ages lounging around my living room. Two belong to me; one I've never seen before. I look around and see shoes and Mtn Dew bottles and empty plates lying around in every room and I am full of satisfaction. I feel content and happy and complete. More so than I ever remember feeling before...

2007 was a rough year. It began this time last year. My beloved step-father had been diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer and after having fought the disease for 18 months, the family knew last year would be his last Christmas here with us. Christmas Eve was an odd mix of laughter and tears as the family divided into two groups to play games, then came together as one while Grand Paul told us how much he loved us and, virtually, goodbye.

In early January, he was unexpectedly admitted to the hospital never to come home again. My mother rarely left his side. I spent my January working 40 hours/week, running by the hospital most every day to try and take care of my mother and Grand Paul as best I could, then returning home physically and emotionally exhausted to try and spend time with and take care of my family. Ten days before my step-father passed away, my husband told me he wanted a divorce. The argument initially was over the fact that I had stopped by the hospital - again - rather than coming home to cook dinner - again, but the fight was merely a culmination of other perceived "wrongs" my husband had grown to resent me for. He should never have married me in the first place. I was exactly NOT what he wanted. And no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I wanted to, I could never heal his deep emotional wounds. I could never cure his deep-seated depression. And eventually I was blamed for everything wrong in his life.

A few days after the initial fight my husband reiterated that he wanted a divorce by leaving a list of what he wanted out of life in my recliner. The list did not include a wife. Or children. He wanted financial freedom. He wanted to be alone, free to come and go and do whatever he pleased, and not be responsible for providing for anyone other than himself and his own needs.

I helped Mother bury Grand Paul on January 29. My husband moved out of our home on February 9. Because he would not pay the legal fees involved, I typed my own divorce papers and met him at the courthouse to file them on March 2. The divorce was final April 2. And two of my three children graduated high school May 25.

Then life began to turn around...

In May the footing to my new home was dug. I had chosen the house plan, the lot, the brick, mortar, shingles, countertops, cabinets, flooring, and paint colors...

July 7 I met Steve.

On August 4 my daughter and I moved into our new home.

And on August 10 I rented a Uhaul box truck, packed up the boys, and took them to college.

* * * * *

EPILOGUE:  The ex re-married 2.5 years after our divorce and at age 55 his 32 year old wife gave birth to a brand new baby girl.  I hope his new wife is happy; she deserves to be.  I also hope that he can finally be the husband and the father that he should have been all along.