My marriage ended on Memorial Day weekend. It is, literally, a yearly memorial to my failure to make my marriage work.
My husband fell down drunk on the Saturday of memorial day weekend last year, 2011. I brought my daughter to my next door neighbor, brought him to the hospital, and called it quits.
And this weekend- when I wasn't trying to drown my sorrows in bad tv and errands, I asked myself- what is my memorial?
How will I memorialize my marriage? It is dead, much like the soldiers we take time to remember this weekend. It was, for a short time, something wonderful- and from it came a thing of pure beauty, my daughter. But she is not a memorial. She lives outside of our marriage, as a testament to what two people can do if they get real lucky.
New years eve I was home with my daughter. And after she went to bed I did an elaborate cleansing process in my house- which consisted of a giant smudge stick and a LOT of sage being set aflame. And over the past year I have taken down pictures, magnets, books, anything that belonged to my husband or that felt too much a part of our life together.
But I left one thing-and I have decided this will be my memorial.
My husband and I honeymooned in Greece. Like all self respecting tourists we climbed to the top of the Acropolis to check out the ruins. At the time we were both actors, so we spent a lot of time in the theater up there. Looking at it, sitting in it, listening to its ghosts. We took pictures of the statues that guard it's entrances and exits.
It is one of those pictures that I have kept as my memorial. It has a place of honor on my wall of photos. We shared a life, much of it was good, we deserve to memorialize that. To always be able to listen to those ghosts.
Happy Memorial Day.
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