A friend of over ten years gave me a highly recommended book on grief. Four chapters in, the author finally reveals the grief that has led her to all of the affinities that she was espousing. She got a divorce. I slammed the book closed as if I was hanging up on a prank caller.
Yes, readers, you have heard of that rare affliction that only affects more than half the people that get married, divorce. So, your husband left you. Literally, half the people on the planet are men. Here’s a novel idea, go find another.
I was not the sympathetic reader the author and publisher had aimed for. I couldn’t help but think that this isn’t uncharted territory. You are not exactly walking on the moon here. I have a friend who has survived several divorces. People get divorced.
Comparing war wounds is the world’s most depressing game. Everyone loses. No one can compare. Even people who have lost a child have other children. I’m in this tiny club of losers alone. I am isolated in my grief. I do not want to be feral but I don’t know how to relate to other people.