Cleaning House: Getting Rid of the Last Vestiges of My Marriage

I spent this past weekend tripping down memory lane as I dismantled a bookshelf Bob put up in our guest room 18 years ago. It was a heavy piece of furniture made of oak that had yellowed. Every time I looked at it which was daily, for it sat in my office, I thought of him. We had bought this piece in 1983 just after he'd gotten his first 'real' job, as a tenure bound professor at a major university.

I chucked the unit out yesterday, giving it to my special male friend. He was delighted to receive it and I was ecstatic to get rid of it. However, I had no idea how much stuff this unit held. Out came the books (all 500 of them), and photos I had stashed in the drawers below. Out tumbled a photo a friend had taken of Bob and me when we just got engaged. You could feel the heat and see the love in our eyes. Out tumbled another photo of Bob's graduation from High School, which was the way he looked when we first met.

Having to deal with those reminders was the bad news. The good news is that I felt no pangs of regret. I choose to remember those early good days, the love we felt for each other and the fondness I held for his parents, and in doing so I've reclaimed over half my life.

Still, I have new plans for my office, which will soon have an entirely different, more modern look. The next piece of furniture to go is the file cabinet, also made of oak. First I will have to delve into files that were labeled by Bob and still contain much of his memorabilia. But one step at a time. The day is coming closer when I will be completely over the divorce - and him.

The photo above is not of the two of us.