There are countless holes lining my walls now like waiting soldiers unsure of whether the war is truly over or a new battle will begin. So, they obediently wait for direction. The next move. The next step.
I'm slowly removing reminders of the past, my former life, my memories of him and our failed relationship.
My movements are sometimes measured and controlled, sometimes frenzied and propelled by the pain, which crashes like waves and knocks me over, steals my breathe. Yet, I keep moving. It's too painful when I stop.
It's a hard balance: removing the visible memories of him to heal my heart while respecting my children's need for those reminders. I struggle each time I remove a nail and another hole appears.
For now, for them, I keep some family pictures hanging and pack up his belongings while they sleep or are with him. I focus on the positive and remember what an amazing dad he is, has always been. I dodge specific questions, evade uncomfortable situations and fake my way through the times when I can't.
I've been told numerous times during this process that time heals all wounds. I wait for time to heal. I've forgotten how slowly time moves.
Still, I wait and breathe.
Eventually, the holes will be filled. The visible scars marring my walls from the nails and hooks which once held wedding photos and family portraits will disappear. I will patch, sand and paint them away. The photos will be preserved for another day, another time. Some of the frames will be replaced: some will be reused.
I never thought divorce would be easy. I simply never realized how many holes would be left behind to fill.
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