Divorce is like an atom bomb going off in a huge megatropolis that was your world. It blows away everything you once knew, destroys a lifestyle that you were used to. It wrecks relationships and families that you once had… Most of the tall breathtaking skyscrapers that the two of you built are gone. The little moments in the romantic shops you two owned are disintegrated. Everything around you is either destroyed or tainted from the debris.
Initially you lay there in shock and awe of the terrifying scene that is your life. You’re unable to tell if this is reality or a nightmare. You try to compose yourself the best you can to make something of the situation, while everyone else is in a concerned, panicked state of mind. You’re paralyzed for days, weeks, months or who even knows. Time just seems to stand still, the ringing in your head from the bomb is the only thing you hear and you can’t do anything, as the world you once knew collapses and burns around you.
Then the Aftershocks
Soon enough you gather the strength to get up and dust yourself off, heal your wounds and broken bones. Then the aftershocks come, the few leftover skyscrapers and other buildings finally topple over. You still get hit from some of the falling debris, you can’t get rid of the cough that you have from the smoke that fills the air, not to mention the burning radiation. So then you pack up what little belongings you have and move on in your world.
You find people along the way and make new houses, buildings and villages together, but the backdrop to your new-found piece of land is still the aftermath of the enormous city that had just been destroyed. Fires are still blazing, smoke is still raising and sirens are still wailing, loved ones are still screaming and you can’t help but to look back and know that there are still things in that city that belong to you.
You try your very best to ignore what’s going on behind you and you never look back, but others can see it. When you try to have a conversation with someone about new blueprints, they simply won’t look you in the eye. They are focused on the destructive scene in the back of you and the horrible burns and scars you have suffered. So somehow it becomes you without you even knowing it.
Time goes on and you let God and time do what they do best. The fires eventually die down, the sirens are few and far between. The smoke and dust have finally settled and you are no longer consumed by the destruction that was your life. You have stitched up your wounds, healed your scars and became stronger than you ever thought you could be.
You build more cautiously and yet more creatively. Some people you come across will give you tools you would have never known about. You learn, and become a better builder. But you still know that there are things in the rubble that you desperately want back. That routine you loved doing is still somewhere in there. That moment you achieved is buried in that building off of Bandera Road. The purple rug from Pecan Valley is probably still there. There are things that God and time left for you to go back and put out, and you need the building tools that you once had.
You don’t go back in hopes of rebuilding the once magnificent empire, you just have to go back for the little things that were once yours and that once meant the world to you. You don’t do it for the memories of what you once had, you do it to remind yourself that you have been through hell and survived. It was once YOUR city, one that YOU helped build. God willing, timing and the right partner, YOU can build something beautiful once again.
Reproduced with permission, originally published here