No two divorces are the same. Some are highly contested, litigated, and expensive legal actions. Others are uncontested and require the parties to cooperate to complete the necessary legal documents. However, they are the same in that they each come with their own sets of challenges and underlying heartbreak. In an uncontested divorce, the parties are able to reach an agreement (usually by having conversations in advance), about the disputed issues in their case, including: Custody of their children Parenting time schedule Payment of child support and the children’s expenses Division of their assets and debts Who will keep the
“I don’t need another award,” I said softly. It was a feeble protest about my nomination for an upcoming honor. ‘It’s not for you,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. Despite not a scintilla of judgment in her voice, I immediately felt a gentle punch in my gut followed by a warm flush in my face. Clearly I’d thought it was. “Awards are not for us,’ she explained with the gentleness of a parent revealing to a child that Santa wasn’t real. I was silent, confused by both her words and my shame upon hearing them. “They’re for
“Would you be willing to talk to them?” Bob asked. I was on a weekend retreat at Bob and Gerry’s, enjoying the perpetually sunny skies of San Diego when he made the ask. Bob had just run into Sue in the laundry room, and she’d tearfully told him her husband’s devastating diagnosis. Prostate cancer is so slow growing at the start that the recommendation is often merely “watchful waiting”. But when the words “metastasized to bone” are included, the fear of death looms instantly. “Of course,” I said. Bob thought I might be helpful, and I hoped I could be.
I never know how to feel on June 8th. There are some things for which there are no rules, guidelines, or instructions. This year’s June 8th would have been my 21st wedding anniversary. Is it nostalgia, sadness, disappointment? Does it serve as a reminder of my biggest life failure? My largest regret? The answer is none of these. My parents are in the process of selling their home. As a result, they went old-school and held a garage sale. I dutifully went down to my basement to see if there was anything to purge. My brother and I sorted through
It was my high school and his. Mine as alma mater. His as drama teacher. When the pandemic arrived, a beautiful but sorely neglected garden at the school became our daily refuge. Day after day we arrived in the late afternoon when the heat was less and the sun was a beautiful glow from the west. Two years later I sat on the boulder he’d rolled into a shady spot under the fragrant June blossoms. I need a moment alone. The sun dappled the leaves where an ant climbed upside down and a bee passed by. It was Kevin’s last day