So I moved out this past Sunday. The preceding week had been an emotional roller coaster of a week. On one hand I didn't want to leave her and the space that had been home for 14 years. On the other hand I felt the need to get out for my own sense of sanity and to give her space.
Friday night when she got home from the hospital she asked if there was more room in the guest room bed, which was a bit of a surprise. She snuggled, told me she was going to miss me, talked about how awesome a Step Dad I had been to her son for so many years, and expressed gratitude over the support I had given her over the years through many personal challenges. I told her that I didn't doubt there may be a small part of her that might miss me periodically given our shared history and experiences, but stated as well I was aware of her desire at this time to move on.
We had talked about having a last dinner together for Saturday night, but when the opportunity came for her to go to a social distancing cookout with friends in RI the dinner plans quickly fell through, which kind of brought me back to Earth. I felt slighted.
Late Sunday afternoon I was gone. We hugged, she cried a little. I hadn't been in my new residence for more than five minutes when she sent me photos of our dog indicating the dog already missed me. She also said if there was anything I needed to let her know.
Our arrangement for the dog at this time is to split time with her for two weeks. While the dog is at her place I'll be sharing morning feeding/walking duties with a friend on days P is working. I've been skeptical of this but agreed to at least attempt it. Yesterday was the first day. If not for the dog being happy to see me I would have thought I had accidently stepped into the wrong home. It felt strange. It felt uncomfortable. The same home I had awakened in just two days before, as I had for the prior 14 years, already had the feel of a different space. In the kitchen I saw where the OM had pretty much already set up shop with a cappuccino machine and other assortments, a half consumed bottle of wine in the refrigerator, the deck furniture was rearranged in a manner clearly showing the cozy get together that had taken place there since my departure not even 48 hours before. I felt nauseous and wondered why I agreed to this arrangement, which struck me as a violation of boundaries on many levels. After walking the dog I couldn't get out of there fast enough.
With each passing day the reality of all of this penetrates my thick skull a little more. She's past grieving the end of our relationship. I was oblivious when she was going through this. She now feels hopeful for a future which doesn't include me, while I, only five weeks after learning about her plans and still trying to absorb this and hold on to any shred of hope if there is any to grasp, feel more hopeless this can ever be saved.
