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When I originally started this blog, I had planned to write a number of witty and interesting things about marathons, ultra marathons, and the people who run them. I didn’t get as much accomplished as I had hoped. I managed a few posts about running – that I hope people enjoyed and found entertaining – and a few non-running related posts about things that were important to me. First life got in the way, then I discovered an online writing forum where I could interact with wonderful people from all over the world. The blog got pushed to the back burner. Until the bombings at this year’s Boston Marathon. Listening to the radio and watching the news compelled me to write again for my blog about my thoughts and feelings about everything that happened.

I had two pages of that post written. It spoke eloquently of how grateful I was that my husband didn’t run this year and how thankful I was that those of his friends who did run were all safe and sound. I wrote of how we had spent the night of April 15 on the phone and Internet tracking people down and answering questions from nervous friends and relatives from across the country.

That blog post won’t be written. Here is why:

My husband has decided to end our marriage, so some time in the near future, I will no longer be a marathon widow.

For the first time in my life, I have no way to describe exactly what I am feeling. If I say I am angry, sad, or frustrated, the words sound flat and unimaginative in my head. I grieve for a life that no longer exists, for the plans and dreams that have disappeared into a black hole, all the while watching as my soon-to-be ex-husband appears energized and excited about his new future. A future that doesn’t include me.

The survivors of the marathon bombing have been all over the news. Stories describe over and over how they were injured, how they survived, how their lives have been changed. Even though I can’t even begin to understand what they are going through, I sympathize with them as I go through my own upheaval.

Please don’t get me wrong. I do not – I cannot – compare myself to them. My bomb was figurative, the only injuries to my heart, my psyche, my pride, things that will heal. Eventually. Many things in my life will stay the same. I have a job I enjoy, one that challenges me while providing me with financial security, and my synagogue. I still have my friends, my family, my son.

I am very proud of my son. He has handled the news with a grace I wish I could emulate, but when all is said and done, I have lost more than he has. He still has his father; I no longer have my husband, my partner, my friend.

Will we become friends again someday? For the sake of our son, I hope so. But it won’t be any time soon. Conversations with him are difficult. For now all I see when I look at him is what I’ve lost, what has been taken from me – peace of mind, security, affection. I will be the poorer for their loss.

I want to thank those of you who have read this blog, sparse as it has been. Maybe someday, I will try again. Stranger things have happened.

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Posted June 24, 2013 by wordsaremylife in random thoughts

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