Two Questions

Question One.  Would you rather get hit by a bus or get Alzheimer's?

The bus option:  relatively painless but completely unexpected.  A tragedy that plays out like a tsunami, sudden and overwhelming.

Alzheimer's:  slow and steady with lots of time to negotiate the details, even though the conclusion is imminent.

Question Two.  Would you rather your marriage die by getting hit by a bus or by Alzheimer's?

Getting hit by a bus looks something like this.  You are in love, it's been 10 wonderful years and you expect many, many more.  You're past the petty fights and settling into a relationship as comfortable and dependable as your favorite sweater.  Until a random Thursday afternoon when you discover a second, unknown e-mail account filled with years of illicit e-mails and appointments between your husband and hundreds of other women.  SMACK.   The bus hits you full-force out of nowhere, and you are suddenly hemorrhaging anger and grief out of every pore.  Everyone is astounded and the funeral is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, so you'd better get cracking on the deviled eggs for the luncheon afterwards.  Life must go on, you know.

Alzheimer's.  The day after the diagnosis is the same as the day before.  As are many months and maybe even years following.  One day he forgets your address but you're there to remind him.  A month later he doesn't know how to work the microwave.  A year later gets off at the wrong bus stop.  Three years in forgets his middle name.  Later, your first name.  Much later, that you have children together.  You grieve the gradual losses a little bit every day, like a stone gets smoothed over hundreds of years at the bottom of a stream bed.  Finally, you're changing diapers and spoon feeding, staring down the end you've always known was coming.  The funeral has been planned for over a year and friends who have watched the slow demise are sad but just as willing to celebrate freedom for both of you.

Ask any woman who has survived an abusive marriage and she will tell you to take the bus option any day.  It's also the reason abused spouses are walking on air the day their divorce is finalized, rather than looking like they just got home from a funeral.

I understand people's hesitation to celebrate divorce and would never expect it from them.  So think of it another way, and raise a glass to freedom.  The grieving is long since done, the rough edges of pain smoothed down by years of coping and adjustments, and I finished making the deviled eggs two days ago.  Show up with a bottle of wine and we'll toast to new beginnings!

~Sarah

This post would be incomplete without a HUGE Thank You to the people who helped me tend to a dying patient and keep my sanity intact for the past 14 years.  You know who you are, and I am eternally grateful.  :)  And to Jesus, who sees everything done in secret, provides the strength and grace to bear our burdens,  and prepares a crown for us all the while.