Some people have reacted to my un-coupling as though they had just witnessed a train-wreck. I have to reassure them that it is not so odd, we had simply completed our task. In many ways, we all could have seen it coming as a normal consequence of events. Nothing that surprising. In some ways it was predictable, and we might now anticipate it with the vision of hindsight.
I once said, “We will be together for a long time.” And we were together for a long time. We worked together as a couple to raise two boys into young manhood, to create a thriving garden, to expand and beautify a house. But there came a time when there was no longer a light in my partner’s eyes when I looked into her face, when she began to avert her gaze.
When did that light disappear? I think it was so many years ago. We went through the motions of a couple, often with joy and enthusiasm. But we no longer exchanged the glances of lovers, as we set our eyes to the tasks at hand.
I now can see a flicker of that open expression of connection in the eyes of people I encounter on the bus. These are the people who do not avert their eyes when I look into them. There came a time when my partner could not bear to see me as I actually was, when I no longer reflected her sense of herself, when I was no longer as she imagined I should be. Then she averted her eyes. We had become co-workers, connected only to the task. And sometimes I didn’t even measure up to that.
So am I involved in a train-wreck? Perhaps that is what normally happens when you put two lovers on the steel path of a contracted relationship. It is easy then to predict where this train is going. Eventually the task of working as a couple runs out of steam.
For me, un-coupling is not really a train wreck, but an acknowledgement that the work is done.