Opinion : A Man's Divorce: The Surprising Anger

It was like most every weekday morning. The time on the microwave read 7:15 am and I grabbed my daypack containing my lunch, iPad, and work badge which allowed me into my employer's secure building.

I was ready for the 30-minute drive into work.

But I paused as I noticed Kodi (featured in my early blogs) slowly approach me and nuzzled his nose between my legs just above my knees. I knelt down to him face to face, rubbed the top of his head and shoulders, and softly spoke to him. I told him he was in charge of the house and then pulled him closer to me and gave him a big hug.

I was thrown back to my life three years ago. I recalled the role that this Golden Retriever played in my healing process, and I once again felt immense compassion for him. Quite a change when all those years prior to my separation when I thought he was a stupid dog who failed to live up to his breed - he refused to retrieve.

A couple of hours later, while waiting for the next customer call, I thought about this morning's moment in time with Kodi. I felt tears forming and they slightly blurred my vision.

How can it be that this still so affects me emotionally after all of this time, I wondered?

Those tears were directly tied to what happened a couple of weeks ago when I was reminded that I was not as healed as I had thought. My son and daughter and their significant others and I were hanging out at a local PUB, eating dinner, talking, and waiting for a pool table to open up. My son then told me he was moving across a mountain range, about 200 miles away. Initially, I was startled, but within an hour my heart was torn to shreds. Soon a deep sadness enveloped me. I became very quiet. We gave up on the pool and returned to my house. I sat in a chair on my backyard patio, looked out at the acre, and once again wondered what my life had become.

Within minutes I knew why I was so sad - and honestly, I was dang angry. I will never publicly say why I was angry, but I recognized that anger. I have felt it before, in recent years.

I am ashamed at that anger - or really the reason for it. It is embarrassing and definitely beneath me. I am a better person than that.

But as I said earlier, I thought I was a bit more healed than maybe I really am.

This takes me to the big picture of why I was so affected by my son's announcement.

I remain lonely - but it is a different lonely than what I wrote about earlier.

I have friends. I do things. I play tennis and go on hikes. I have friends come over and we play a few hours of table games. I no longer want to hike or do other things alone. I am past that. I no longer think that I am a social loser if I spend a Friday or Saturday night alone.

I am lonely for the intimacy of a female relationship. I miss that amazing closeness. I long to become one with someone and yet at the same time be individuals. I miss the depth of friendship that you can have with no one else. The kisses, hugging, hand-holding, and snuggling together while watching a movie. The sharing of stories or moments in time that only she would really understand. I am her best friend and she is mine.

What do the above two paragraphs have to do with my son? I have found that my patience, my defenses, are not even skin deep. As I read that last sentence over again, I sighed in utter disappointment.

I had thought I was ready to date - that I had moved on enough. But now I wonder. Is it fair to the lady if I am still sometimes a little boy?

Can't I just take a pill, say a prayer, or chant some mantra that will heal the sting that comes when there is the closure of a 30-year marriage? How long does this take?

Am I being too harsh on myself? Maybe. This is all uncharted territory for me.

Now, and this is a big now, I totally support the reason why my son is moving. (That is his story to tell). I understand it and agree with it. It is the part that I cannot tell that just pisses me off.

But it should not make me angry. I should just shrug it off and move on. That is what I want to do. Yet it is like a physical injury that you thought had healed, but when you try to get back into the game, you run with a limp or maybe your shot falls short.

Which then takes me to a much bigger question. Can one be totally healed after the end of a long-term marriage? Or maybe that is the wrong question. Maybe this is something that has changed me forever. Maybe the gallons after gallons of crap that I pushed through each day just to breath changed me forever.

I have no idea. I do not know the answer to that question.

On the bright side, this is a small part of my life. I do not get angry (which morphs into a deep sadness) often, and I know what triggers it. I have learned much through this journey and I am convinced that my walk with Christ is much deeper for it. Above all else, I have learned a truth that has changed how I look at each and every day.

Relationships are what really matters - above all else. My relationship with God and Christ Jesus, my children, my family, my friends, and everyone I meet daily. As I read the Gospel stories, I pay attention to how Jesus relates to everyone around Him. That is the person I want to be. It changes how you live each day. The focus is no longer on yourself -- it is on others.

Now if I could just allow the healing power of God to completely wash me anew so this trigger evaporates and I am no longer held in bondage.