When he returns from nine months in Europe, he unpacks two boxes from his luggage and sets them on the kitchen counter. I recognize them immediately.
My emotions are a jumble.
Pleasure. Sadness. Suddenly, I feel older.
I admit I’d hoped he might do this. Sometimes, he’s thoughtful that way, or perhaps he knows me better than I realize.
“Is one of those for me?” I ask.
And he says no.
Delight turns to disappointment. When he tells me who they’re for, I get angry and quickly turn my back, puttering about at the sink so he won’t see how upset I am.
“I’ll never get back there again,” I say.
He’s quiet.
“If you want one, just take it.”
Then I’m quiet.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, stowing the boxes in the freezer.
History
They aren’t just any chocolates. They are the chocolates, from the one and only chocolate shop in a picturesque town in a beautiful country in a place I once loved and felt welcome. It is a country I love and that I miss; it is another life, that I also miss. It was, at least for me, all about family.
Each trip overseas involved a pilgrimage to visit an assortment of uncles, aunts, and cousins; the elderly great aunt who was once a nun and adored discussing art; the silver-haired grandfather with a broad, toothless grin and a mischievous sense of humor. He was still living on his own well into his nineties, in the small farmhouse he had shared for decades with his wife and where they raised their children, welcoming their grandchildren.
Each trip also involved a pilgrimage to the chocolatier shortly before our departure. The painstaking selection of the most exquisite “pralines” left the four of us, literally, kids in a candy store. The last time I saw this Willy Wonka House of Marvels was a dozen years ago, before All Hell broke loose and life changed irrevocably.
It was a time when my world felt safe. I know now that safety is an illusion.
Loss
I don’t ask. Rather, I state my desire clearly, telling my son I want to keep one of the boxes. This isn’t like me. To take. To feel a right to take.
He doesn’t hesitate and he says it’s fine.
When he returns to college, one of the boxes remains in my freezer.
*
Two weeks ago I needed… something. I’ve been struggling with my schedule, with conflicting matters demanding my attention, and worries beyond the usual. I wanted comfort of some sort. A touchstone. A speck of security in a shaky world.
For some of us, divorce is an ongoing source of ache and complexity. It catches us off guard over the years with its power to resurrect what was once good, and what was ultimately destructive. Loss is often filled with contradictions.
Divorce is more than the end of a relationship between two adults, more than battles over custody, child support, visitation, assets. It is more because marriage is more. Naturally, the undoing of a marriage leaves its mark.
Perhaps that’s only right.
Opening the Past that Never Quite Closes
While I hope to save the box until the holidays, as soon as I break the seal and lift the red flaps, I have no regrets.
Twelve years disappear in the aroma, the layers of gold foil, the stream of images that came flooding back – my boys, little and laughing, kicking a soccer ball in a small yard with their cousins; afternoons socializing in stunning cities with my sister-in-law; coffees on family visits, coffees in town, coffees and conversation everywhere.
I pick out three chocolates, and I let them defrost. I bite the first and savor, taking my time. With the second, I make myself an espresso to enhance the experience. As I finish the third, I allow the grief to flow through me, and also, the pleasure.
The box remains in the freezer and knowing that it’s there is comforting. It is a connection that is cannot be severed, however bittersweet.
Beautiful writing – poignant and bittersweet indeed.
Everything has an energy associated – photos, furniture, clothing, music …
Such sentimental delicacies as the exquisite chocolates are an engagement of all senses – sight, taste, touch, smell and even the sound as you bit into them … and the flood of memories they evoked.
So glad you asked to keep one. And so glad you wrote about it.
🙂 Thank you Vicki Lee.
Ahhhh, bittersweet. In chocolate and in divorce – such a fitting metaphor.
“For some of us, divorce is an ongoing source of ache and complexity. It catches us off guard over the years with its power to resurrect what was once good, and what was ultimately destructive. Loss is often filled with contradictions.
Divorce is more than the end of a relationship between two adults, more than battles over custody, child support, visitation, assets. It is more because marriage is more. Naturally, the undoing of a marriage leaves its mark.”
OMG – beautiful. Yes, yes, yes. People ask me why I still have pain – I’ve been divorced for almost a decade and have a wonderful, loving partner. Yet….I, too, have that bittersweet feeling that something precious was irrevocably lost. Marriage is more than the sum of its parts and cannot be replaced with a personally fulfilling relationship.
You brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for understanding and putting your feelings into words.
Sue
Sue, I’m sorry that you, too, live with these strange aftereffects. I thank you for getting it, and for saying so. “Something precious was irrevocably lost.” Yes.
Bittersweet and beautiful !
If possible, next time one of your sons goes back, you should also go; I am planning a similar trip for next summer, they are my kids’ relatives and wonderful people that I would like to see again (not to mention the beautiful natural scenery). Reach out and reconnect, you will be glad you did.
I hear you, batticus. Wise words. Yet… Been there, done that, as they say. Perhaps they know it and feel it, and I suspect both my sons have passed my hellos along. I hope so.
Love this story. The best day of my life was my divorce. Never looked back and never felt any sadness. I processed so much before that when I left I was free. My best day in a family doesn’t come close to my best day single. I love my now grown sons and have a great relationship with them and in the end I was anointed sainthood by them for staying with their dad as long as I did. So sorry you are still struggling.
The contradictions that you speak of are common for many, I would think. Even if we choose the divorce. I’ve been divorced now for over 8 years–happily so in one way. But, I grieve the loss of “a” companion and my dreams of what I thought my life would look like at this age. It’s an ongoing cycle, just like the grief we feel for someone who has died. You express this beautifully. I love the post and the reminder of how things can become imbued with so much meaning. It’s a reminder for me to pay attention and practice being present.
It is an ongoing cycle as you say, Walker. People often don’t get it, and express that we aren’t “moving on.” It isn’t about that at all. But it is loss that stays with us, and yes, reminder to appreciate what we have and where we are.
So pleased you stopped by to comment.
Mmmmm … very nice and deeply sensitive writing, … but this one after the previous one, … can we speak about a melancholic path? 🙂
It’s true that safety is an illusion, … hardly one or two weeks before the third great love of my life cut everything between us, I was feeling safe in the love we were sharing, … not having realized how much we had a different conception of life, and how much she was blind to these shades of grey that I always take in account and which I found my wisdom upon.
I don’t live with my wife anymore, but we didn’t bother to divorce. What would be the point? Marrying again? That makes no sense to me. Children, … they’re grown up but we still team to deal with their big problems when they show up (and they don’t miss to show up!) The assets, …we’re going on sharing them. In short when we don’t make explode everything, we can live our separate lives and spare ourselves the issues and big expenses of divorce 🙂 …
Some wonderful words, either explicit or just implied, in these posts about grieving and moving on. When you put that label on it, you realize that grieving is actually an essential part of the process of moving on. It honors the past, puts it in perspective, and lets you move on as a complete being with the past eventually being put into its proper compartment, even if it takes a while.
Psychologists know that anything that is swept under the rug and not dealt with properly re-emerges later with unintended consequences, ones surely greater than if the past had been honored properly. I would much rather honor the inevitable downsides of being human than to pretend it should have been some other way.
I read your blog and think I enjoyed it, but all I could really think about was the chocolates look so unbelievably mouth wateringly delicious, I can’t get past that! I hope you savor every one of them!
Enchanted Seashells, That’s lovely of you – thank you! (I am enjoying them, yes. And savoring.)
Poignant and beautifully written. Isn’t it amazing how something as simple as a luscious piece of chocolate can sometimes wash away the bitter taste in our mouths?!
Terrific, evocative piece… & Sue, you said it!
I had my bittersweet moment when I recognized how ROUGH Ex looked at last week’s Hostage Exchange – I was torn between desires to laugh out loud, gravely speculate about HIS health (I took my blog offline last month after confirming long-standing suspicions that Ex was reading; “Take care of yourself”, indeed!), and pronounce that marriage to long-standing GF must be HARSH… (They hooked up when I was PG, but only legalized their arrangement 1.5 yrs ago – Son will be 15 this summer!)