Presents are simple.
Santa leaves them under the tree. Morning comes. Even just a brushstroke of sunlight in the sky is permission to dig in. Bows bounce. Wrapping paper tears and lands in crumpled Christmas origami. Boxes relinquish their goods. Thrilled children wade through the obscene bounty, drunk with excitement.
The presents have been opened.
Don’t like a present? Return it. Rewrap it. Regift it. No sweat.
Simple.
Relationships, not so simple.
The first Christmas after a split is devastating. The kids may not know it, especially if their parents make a point of working together to make Christmas Day a good one. We did. But still.
We agreed: I would be Santa and take care of Santa presents. He would bring the gifts from the two of us, in the morning. We were very reasonable. It worked well.
We have spent ten Christmases together, maybe eleven. I do not wish to count. It is enough to call it a decade, seven of those with child or children.
What I wanted most was not under the tree this year: I want to go back to a time when I felt strong, when I felt safe, when I felt I could express love to the man I know the best in the world, and hear love in his voice as well.
I watched his hands as he put together some toys, as he opened the squash he’d brought for dinner, as he hugged the girls. It will always be his hands that get me. My heart does not know where to go, when it sees them.
I don’t think there is such a thing as closure. Presents can be unwrapped and wrapped again. But this—a deep love, a close marriage, two great kids, a tangled mess of communication and miscommunication and anger and hurt and heartbreak that followed—there is no wrapping this back up. Not for me.
{ 44 comments… read them below or add one }
Love.
I have no idea how I came upon your blog but I found it the other night and was blown away by your writing style. I read a few older posts. I laughed, I cried, I pondered. You are so talented and I’m sure you didn’t need someone to tell you that but I am always impressed by people who can write well, so I just thought I would tell you. I would leave my blog address but it is so lame I would be ashamed for you to read. This post was beautiful and heartbreaking. Take care.
Yes, not so simple, that. And heartbreaking even for those of us just reading about it.
Such raw pain and sadness. My heart hurts for you. I am sorry.
You and your (ex?) husband are to be commended for doing everything you could to make the Christmas as “normal” and special as possible for your girls. I am sorry that it is so hard for you. It sounds like there is still a lot of love there….I wish things could be different for you. xoxoxo
there is no wrapping this back up
So true…but there will be healing, in its own time, and a new normal that will sneak in the back door when you’re not looking and take up residence.
The first year is the hardest.
Sending wishes for a spectabulous 2009 your way. You’ve earned it!
My love to you and hugs wrapped up to be unwrapped as needed.
xo
Oh Jenn…..
You have no idea what a comfort this was for me. I know that sounds really wrong, noting the heartbreak you’re writing about. But I’m right there too. And it does make a difference to know that I’m not alone. And you write what’s in my heart too, and I don’t have the words. And thanks for that.
Heidi
Jenn, you and your ex-husband are so strong to display such selfless grace for your children, no matter how difficult it is. You’re an inspiration. Thank you.
This is so beautifully expressed. What is it about the hands? They have the same affect on me.
Though the desire is strong to return to days of strength and security, life keeps us moving forward. There is so much to learn in a lifetime.
Oh Jenn, I wish I could make it better for you. I got teary while reading this and had a limp in my throat. You really are strong! You did one of the hardest things, you were brave and got along for the kids. No matter how many presents or what they got, that was the greatest gift.
This is so sad, but beautiful too. I hope you can take comfort in your amazing ability to turn pain into art.
I agree with others that you gave your girls such a selfless, lovely gift in bringing you and their father together for the holiday. May they always remember that and someday really appreciate and know what an amazing mother you are.
Oh Jenn. I hurt for you, too. And I hope that one day when you are ready, but not too long from now, there will be new hands in your life – ones that touch you with love, and make your heart skip a beat in a good way. You deserve that so much.
Ok, I just reread my comment and obviously, that was a typo.
I certainly don’t have anything “limp” in my throat. Hope that made you chuckle. I meant LUMP.
Yes, the hands. Sometimes it’s looking over at his profile when he is driving, but always the hands.
If you can make it through the first Christmas and all the traps you had leading up to them then you can make it through anything. This will all be a memory you can choose to visit or not when you are again in a safe place.
(I’ve seen others mention the relevance of the bot security code. Mine is HAD U – sigh)
I wanted the same thing for Christmas and did not get it either. I don’t know if my soon-to-be-ex husband could even begin to comprehend the raw pain in my heart all week as we ‘played normal’ for the kids.
I hope Elizabeth is right and you have good hands in your life soon. The loving hands are so hard to live without.
Your expression of these feelings is so painfully beautiful. Thank you.
Loss is so difficult. Especially loss of a dream. It sounds like the two of you love each other but just have agreed that being a married couple isn’t going to work for you. It is very messy to figure out what to do next.
But my bet, given how loving you are responding to each other and for the girls, despite your differences, is that over time you will come to see each other as very dear friends. Through your girls, he will always be connected to you and you will always be special to him.
You are amazing. Your girls are so lucky, so blessed.
You gave your children a priceless gift – a glorious pain free Christmas. You shine, woman.
i’m sorry jenn.
By being strong and together for your kids, you absolutely gave them the best gift possible. Congratulations to both of you for being the grownups. Too often people can’t do that, and it just hurts everyone.
But I’m sorry it was so hard. You deserve to be very proud of yourself for getting through it.
And now it’s another whole year before the holidays come again – whew!
I know how that feels. I’m going through the first holiday after the split–only he’s not there. He’s not allowed to come. But we are blessed I have a wonderful room mate and her three children and they create such a wonderful distraction. I have discovered that x-mas light hunting down dark roads and minimalizing time in department stores and putting up the tree x-mas eve to be very helpful in reducing the pain.
love and sorrow, S.
Wow, Jenn. I have never been in a situation like this (and I hope that I never am) but, as you’ve been reading from the other comments, it is amazing how you were seemingly (and at least outwardly) able to put differences aside for your children. THAT is a true gift, not only for them, but for you and David and the rest of your family as well. You are going through so much right now. You have such strength – don’t forget that for a minute.
No, there is no way to make is neat and tidy. I’m sorry…and I’m sending love.
ack, you poor thing
Dear tender of heart friend…
It is not the same, not even close I know…I know,
But? Let your friends hands hold you close for now. I hope you can feel the love from us. Our hands on your shoulder for compassion, our hands holding your hand in concern and again under your elbow for strength, to help shore you up. Lean on these hands of your friends. We are strong and understanding and there are MANY of us.
Our hearts to yours….. dear brave, strong, amazing momma Jenn.
With respect for your endurance
Cindi
I’m really proud of you, both for being so composed in your organization of the day and also for just plain getting through it. It must have been horrible, horrible. It will never be that bad again. You have made it through the worst, and you didn’t end up on the laundry room floor, you didn’t go to the hospital, you dealt with it and are still standing.
I was there for some of those times, and I recall them as well. Though they’re not my times to miss, I miss them anyway.
Best to you, Dave, and the girls.
I’m sorry.
Wow, my heart is twisted in a dozen knots. If you two could choreograph a successful Christmas together, if you guys can still have loving family moments…you’re already better than so many couples. What happened?!?! (No need to answer, I meant that in a fist-to-the-heavens-in-defeat kind of way)
Here’s to a new year!
Ah yes, familiarity. It makes things that are unpleasant, but predictable, bearable.
Few things in this world are 100% good or 100% bad. Making a major life change exchanges one set of mixed good and bad for a different set of mixed good and bad. Leaving one relationship opens up a thousand possibilities for new ones, none of which will be 100% good or 100% bad. You just have to make the best choices you can with the information you’ve got in front of you.
Zen moment aside, squash for dinner?!? Your children eat squash? Are they starving? Is the squash covered in sugar and chocolate or is it deep fried? I can only imagine the conversation:
“Look kids! Daddy has come over for Christmas!”
“Yay!!!”
“And he brought squash for dinner!!!”
“…….”
The pain is palpable, Jenn. But you pulled together for the sake of your girls’ joy on Christmas. That says a lot about what kind of parents you both are.
Be well.
Though I’ve never been divorced myself, my parents divorced when we were 5 and 3 and they couldn’t even be in the same room as each other! You sound like wonderful, nurturing parents and your girls are so very lucky…Take care of yourself.
Much love. XOXO
I say wallow, just wallow, in the crumpled paper and warm squash and familiar masculine hands and squeals of holiday joy. Christmas is that Dickensian best-of-times/worst-of-times and a God-given excuse for excess, Jenn. It’s your ability to love so deeply (gift or curse?) that graces your exceptional writing and makes us love you in turn. Giant Hugs!
I do not possess that same grace when dealing with my soon-to-be-ex though I wish I did. That would be more painful but at least I’d feel like there had been something there and not like I went through a voided era.
I think your security code says “hussie”. Is that just for me? How quaint.
Hey Spot, the main course was roast beef, gravy, and mashed potatoes. Babci was in the kitchen cooking up huge portions of comfort food! Least I could do :>) Mommy chose the desserts; daddy roasted the squash; girls baked the crescent rolls. Everyone dug in!
Happy New Year to everyone! It is snowing once again. The iceman cometh but the plumber hath departed.
Thank you all for your love and support.
Wishing you and yours a wonderful 2009. May it be full of strength, love, good health and peace for you and us all.
It seems that SPOT missed out on a lovely meal.
I wish you a magic ribbon, that binds everything together and makes it bearable. Your girls are so lucky, you know.
I’ve always thought that people who opened presents slowly, taking care not to rip the paper, were not actually getting the present. They weren’t celebrating the devouring of an experience— rip open the paper, toss the ribbons and bits where you may, welcome the gift with fanfare and passion. Divorce is a bitch, no two ways about it, but my how you did get to rip open the present and sprinkle ribbons and glimmery paper all about your life.
ohhh Jenn…..hon….sorry I’ve been out of touch but it seems you and I are going through parallel things my dear. There has been a “split” in my life as well. We need to email, visit, comment, somthing. I have so missed keeping up with your blog but life has consumed me for months. I know you know the feeling.
I attached my new blog link so feel free. I love you girl. You can do this.