While engaged and living in NYC, I remember one day seeing this picture of Renee Zellweger.
I loved it. Renee the bride, she looked so happy. It inspired me. I knew in a couple of months’ time I would be just like her, on my wedding day on the beach.
Sadly, her marriage lasted only 4 months.
Well, Renee, I beat you this time. My marriage lasted only 3 months.
I believe it’s no surprise to any of you that my relationship ended so soon after we got married. I don’t think it was a surprise to me, either. Although to finally be apart took a huge deal of effort and struggle, and mixed feelings.
The last day at my mother in law’s house started as usual. I woke up that morning and got ready to go to work. I couldn’t start the car, though, and came back to the bedroom to wake up my husband and ask him for help. As mentioned, he’d usually wake up just before noon. And there I was nagging into his ear about needing a ride to work early on. He kept trying to convince me to take a taxi, but I was having none of it. I had a husband and he had a car, why would I ever take a taxi?
Words got stronger, voices got louder, till he jumped out of bed, grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me out of the room.
I was boiling inside. NOBODY GETS TO PUSH ME. But my rage came out only as a quiet ‘that’s it’, almost as if said to myself. I took a taxi to work.
That day had the longest hours. But it gave me time to decide: ‘I was done’.
After work I hastily packed my bags (having to leave all the wedding and bridal shower gifts) and moved out. My friend let me stay with her.
Trust me. That time was one of the hardest things I had to go through (but not THE hardest, as I later found out). I hardly ate. I didn’t crave chocolate. And for a huge chocolate addict like myself that was a huge deal. I cried, I felt lost, I doubted myself, I sought help, I was afraid.
I heard the rumors about myself. I stole from the chef, took his money. I was ungrateful woman after having been accepted to the family. The chef knew where I was staying and he threatened my friend. I had to look over my shoulder every time I left the house. I applied for a restraining order.
Fast forward a few months, I had tried to get a divorce, unsuccessfully.
Fast forward a few years, I found out he had passed.
My husband was gone, and so was that chapter of my life in the USA: the good, the bad, the ugly, the wedding and the funeral. Almost as if I had been playing part in ‘Four weddings and a funeral‘ – except with one wedding. It seemed that for a brief moment I had lived celebrity style.
My restless soul, however, kept searching for love.
