There are far too many people who would be celebrating a day like I'm personally experiencing today. That's extremely sad to me and borders on being patently offensive. And I think that also speaks volumes about the continuing decline in our society’s once moral and solid cultural standing. If you, for even just a second, don't think the increasingly atrocious behaviors we see in the media hasn't had a direct affect on this unfortunate direction rationality has taken, you should perhaps check for scares beneath your hairline.
We don't celebrate death. Yes, we get together for funerals and celebrate a once shining life and the treasured memories that we have of the deceased. We honor the things about them that touched our souls. But, we don't celebrate the end of that life. We morn it. We console one another and share our grief as a result of the loss. We don't cheer and toast the fact that a life has ended.
We don't celebrate the loss of a home when tragic circumstances strike, be it a natural disaster, a fire, or a financial calamity. We cling to photos and mementoes of good times in and around that home. We remember the events that took place there which put smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts. But, we certainly don't revel in the loss of a home, no matter who suffered that loss.
So where in the annals of the logical world do we find any reasonable factor contributing to a desire to celebrate the death of a marriage? Where in the human consciousness does there exist any justification to celebrate a divorce? Oh, I understand those who use the word “celebrate” erroneously when what they really mean is “feeling relief”. One can certainly understand the emotional relief felt, especially if the legal battle was a long and arduous one. And marking the day that relief is felt by having a few quality moments spent with friends or family closest to you might also erroneously be referred to as a celebration. I assure you, it is not. It is more like a wake, a time to morn something very special that has been lost.
There is a sense of vulgarity, in my opinion, to an obtuse display of revelry and overt celebratory behavior marking the end of what began as holy matrimony. High fives and bar shots demean the sanctity of a union now destroyed. This kind of frat boy mentality driving one to mark an occasion more properly acknowledged with tears and prayer is a direct result of the “disposable” society we have allowed ourselves to become a part of. We’ve disposed of loyalty, morality, ethics, faith, and the trust we once could all count on. We’ve disposed of personal accountability and self sacrifice, and instead strive overtime working toward a “what’s in this for me” cultural abyss. Just push up and away any rock you may have been living under and take a look around at what we have become. It's no wonder relationships have become disposable when everyone has been taught that they deserve a trophy just for participating. You don't have to work at it or do well at it. Just show up.
So keep your “congratulations” to yourselves. I don't want the damn participation trophy. I didn't do well enough. I lost. I loved being married and yet I apparently didn't do enough to maintain a strong bond. I loved having someone to live my life with. I enjoyed spoiling someone special. I liked planning surprises for somebody, cooking meals for them, and traveling together when we could. I loved my in-laws and all their spouses . . . and all the cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews. That's all gone now. Tell me again why the hell I should “celebrate”??? And don't tell me it's time to move on and get on with my life. Since when were you wired into my internal clock? How would you know anything about my emotional, physical, and spiritual time line? You don't. And you really don't know what you are talking about at all if you, even for a minute, think you do. “Until you walk a mile . . . “
And no, I don't want a pity party either. I don't want any sympathy. I'll be just fine. In fact, I'll be better than I've been since the summer of 2014 very soon. The last “24 Months” have been particularly difficult, but I'm a pure bleed Old Cajun Dude made of the best possible stuff that can be genetically and culturally infused into my being. My soul is good. My Mom and Dad are still here with me and were able to witness and comprehend the unfortunate truth. They and my brothers, along with a small circle of my closest friends, watched me stand firm while struggling in an isolation bubble and they know now, more than ever before, what I'm really made of. They know I'll not only survive, but I will soon thrive again.
That all doesn't mean my heart is not permanently broken. You can’t just flip a switch to turn off the love you had for someone and their family; people you invested so much of yourself into . . . at least I can't. You might hate certain things that took place to derail a relationship, but you can't hate someone that you truly loved. At least I can't. If you can hate, you never really loved. You just have to care and you have to forgive and yes, you have to indeed move on . . . on your own time line . . . no one else’s.
So, the next time you want to give your opinion to someone going through a divorce, or having just gone through one, engage your brain before revving your tongue. Try to remember what The Easy Cajun (the most interesting Old Cajun Dude in the world) tried to convey on the day he "celebrated" with only tears and a prayer.
I'm saving the Crown Royal for a happy occasion.
The Easy Cajun