All last week, I couldn’t sign in to my blog. I worried that the three people who read my writing with regularity might be disappointed by the lack of posts and move on to bigger and better. Finally, my web designer fixed the glitch and we got back in and – all the posts from March and April were gone. Phantom posts.

I wonder, where did all the posts go? Apparently, my former host, Valueweb, sucked them all in instead of allowing them to live at my new host, Dreamhost. This sort of miscommunication, misclaiming, bugs me. A war over ownership? Is this a virtual metaphor for my impending divorce perhaps?

I mean, we can read into anything, I suppose. So if I want to believe there’s some hidden message here in the loss of the posts online – but lo and behold, woah!, I saved them all on my hard drive, thank GOD – then fine, I’ll believe it.

I’m not sure that’s my answer. Last week, Avy finally agreed to sign the settlement. That means no mediation, no trial. That means we go to court in a week and the judge puts his stamp and stern nod on our case: DIVORCED. Officially. That means May 30, Avy packs up his clothing, books, and memories and moves to another residence.

That means since May hit, Asher has been “out of control,” to quote one of his teachers. My poor little 6-year-old knew that in May, his parents would split forever and his father would leave this house. No coincidence that he’s been acting out, then, nor was it a surprise that he fell into his teacher’s arms last week and sobbed, so sad that his parents were divorcing.

And it’s no surprise that Eliana comes into my bed every night and has accidents in her pants all day long. That’s a 4-year-old’s way of dealing with fear, trepidation, sadness. At least Shaya can’t process what’s to come; he will never know his parents together – sad as that is, maybe it’s best for him.

Divorce is no easy path. We all know that. I used to be so judgmental about people who divorced because there were so many. Maybe that’s my bad karma coming around to get me finally. I used to think it was a cop-out and people didn’t TRY hard enough. Phooey.

I can tell you I tried, yes I tried, and really so did Avy. We just were not meant to be together forever. We are all sad about this, me included. I don’t want to be divorced. I don’t want to rock my childrens’ world so completely that they will never be the same again. I don’t want all of my dreams to slither down the drain until it’s as if they never existed. I don’t want to have to date again or face my nights alone. And I don’t want to contemplate the silence, the loneliness, the very questions that probably led me into this marriage in the first place, the not wanting to be alone.

We all live in silence, you know. I don’t know how many of us actually face our fears of being alone, but it’s something I am determined to do now. For if I can’t figure out what went wrong here, I’ll only do it again.

I’m going now, to reclaim all the old posts, so you may never find this one, so buried will it be by old words. It’s something about restoring to former greatness. Is there even such a thing?

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