I Miss Them Badly

There’s a particularly fucked-up part of ending a marriage that nobody puts in the brochure. 

You don't just lose the person. Sometimes, you lose an entire fucking ecosystem.

And that's the part I didn't see coming. Because I genuinely loved being around his sister.

His niece. His in-laws. His dad. His aunt. His cousins.

The people I laughed with, ate with, talked nonsense with, and sat around doing absolutely nothing important.

They became part of my life quietly. No ceremony. No paperwork.

No warning label saying: Congratulations. These people are now emotionally attached to you. Terms and conditions may apply upon marital failure.

And now I'm supposed to understand what happens next.

Do I still call them? Do I still visit? Do I send birthday messages?

Do I suddenly become the woman who used to be family?

Because apparently there is no official protocol for: “Hi. We still love each other as people, but your relative and I are no longer functioning as a marriage.”

Very convenient.

The marriage can fall apart, but the relationships don't necessarily get the memo.

And that's what pisses me off. Because I don't hate them.

I don't want to erase them. I don't regret knowing them.

I actually fucking miss them And somehow that makes everything worse.

Because I can be completely done with the marriage while still grieving the people I met because of it.

I can look at him and feel nothing, yet still feel something when I think about his family.

Apparently the heart has terrible administrative skills.

It doesn't understand: “This relationship has been terminated. Please remove all associated contacts.”

It just goes: “Oh. But I loved these people.”

Fantastic.  Thanks, heart.

Really efficient system. And maybe that's the cruelest part.

Sometimes the people you lose aren't the people you wanted to lose.

Sometimes you lose innocent bystanders.

People who didn't break your heart. People who didn't make the decisions.

People who didn't deserve to become collateral damage because two people couldn't make a marriage work.

And I hate that. Because I don't want to turn them into strangers.

But I also don't know how to keep them without pretending the rest of the story didn't happen.

So maybe this is one of those losses I just have to carry.

Not because I want him back. I don't.

Not because I want that marriage back. I don't.

But because some people were genuinely good to me.

And I loved having them in my life. That's the fucking tragedy.

I didn't just lose a husband. I lost access to people who never hurt me.

And there isn't even a villain I can blame for that. 

Just circumstances. Just distance.

Just an ending that apparently came with a “family members may be discontinued without notice” clause.

So yeah. I might miss them. Maybe I always will.

But missing them doesn't mean I chose wrong. It means they mattered.

Not everyone we lose belongs in the category of: “Good riddance.”

Some belong in the more painful one: “I wish I could have kept you.”

And maybe that's what loving people sometimes means: accepting that they can be part of your life, change it, and still not be yours to keep.

I can let the marriage end without pretending the love around it was meaningless.

I can stop being his wife and still mourn the family I became part of.

I can move forward without turning good people into strangers in my memory.

Because sometimes the deepest grief isn't losing the person who hurt you.

It's losing the people who loved you — and learning to love them without being able to keep them.