Tuesday, March 25th would have been my sixth wedding anniversary. The divorce was final on 7 February, so this is my first non-anniversary. I wasn't expecting this week to be so hard, but I keep remembering what I was doing six years ago. Thinking about Bob makes me sad and what's startling is that it's a pure sadness without anger or feelings of abandonment or longing for reconciliation. I suspect this is grief.
Last night this feeling overtook me and I just bawled, feeling sad for me and for Bob. I wept as I remembered that we were each lonely and then we found each other and it was good. Then it wasn't so good and then it ended. This struck me as the saddest story and I couldn't stop crying. Did it matter that I was on the Chicago red line elevated train during rush hour? No. I tapped and wept and blew my nose and no one sat anywhere near me. I appreciated being left alone. Weeping in public among strangers can be just as private as being in my own room.
I'd never felt grief like that before. It was way worse than sadness and maybe even worse than depression, as I experience it. Now I understand why people drink, do drugs, retreat into anger or shut down in other ways in order to avoid grief. It's clear why the tradition is to stay angry at your ex for as long as possible because once the anger burns off the real pain begins.
The sadness lingers today and what makes it worse is that the hole in the roof of my mouth still hurts. Healing from this gum graft has been much more painful than the first one; I don't know why. My emotional pain makes me want to buy a frosted layer cake and dig in, but my physical pain makes eating and drinking difficult, so I guess I won't eat my way through this. I just have to go through it.