I love this date. It's a big celebration day. The anniversary of my divorce, 4 glorious years of freedom and associated poverty. There are other days to celebrate, the day the blight left, the day he told me he wanted a divorce, the day of the decree or the lovely day he re-married and could never ever come back. A bit of an insult with this though since they are supposed to leave you for somebody younger, prettier and smarter not older, uglier and dumber. I will admit I was not the easiest person to live with. It was just as hard to live with his multiple personality disorder, sober-drunk-deaddrunk-paralytic.
Now I don't normally drink but I have a bottle to celebrate in case I want to. It's a very expensive vintage Port and it's his. Before he came back for his things, I climbed a ladder and hid it in the roof along with a few other bits and pieces. He didn't ask for it, too busy wanting to know where his crystal beer glasses were. Crystal beer glasses! This from someone whose idea of class was a basic black stubby holder. Anyway I hunted up the remaining beer glass which I was using as a vase, washed and wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. I then wrapped up every vegemite and jam jar I could find and it made quite an impressive looking parcel.
All the good 'surviving divorce' books say that on the anniversary you should go back and remember at least three good things about the marriage to help you move on. These books assume that you're completely devastated by the divorce. HaHaHaHa
Okay, three good things.
There's the night he went to bed after a party and slept with his hands in the air. When he couldn't feel his arms in the morning he thought he'd had a stroke. That was good.
There's another night after another party when he carefully went to bed in our enormous Victorian wardrobe. I just as carefully shut the door on him. When he woke up in the dark he'd thought he'd gone blind. That was really good.
There was the lovely clock he bought me for a special birthday. No, that's not really good. Getting just the right present was his excuse for the long visits to my best friend. He was undone by me finding the tax receipt in the box claiming it for office supplies. It had a revoltingly loud tick which was just as annoying in the bedroom as he was. (good sign of a marriage in trouble is when he signs the birthday card with the names of your four cats)
So my 3rd good thing is the same good thing I think of every anniversary. He's in the wind, gone, left the building, pissed off, done a runner, made tracks, hit the road, hopped a freight.......in other words, made me the happiest woman in divorce land.
*sings loudly and off key* "My maaan's gone noowww..........."