I'm not married anymore.
My husband left me, and by the time he did, there was more relief in the parting than
pain. It was a bad marriage, best over and done with, and by the time it ended there was nothing of love left in it.
But still, there are things I miss... not about him per se, but about us.
When I say, in the course of day-to-day conversation, "It's possible..." no one
ever says "I'm not a pig!" in highly indignant tones.... and though no one
else can hear the gap in the conversation... I can.
No one understands, and chuckles, and hugs me when I point to a copy of the video
"The Best of the Best" and say "Ooooh look! The Diot of the Diot". No one does,
because no-one but me remembers the tape-label, painstakingly home-printed, and rendered
illegible with a most artistic stripe down the centre of the lettering.
My secret language, built of shared memories is...
... broken.
Three weeks before he left we had our last true moment as a couple. We watched
"The Full Monty" together, and at the end, as Hot Chocolate played
I Believe in Miracles we got up and danced together, enthusiastically, energetically,
spontaneously, and with laughter.
It was good and happy and fun.
And I have no one to remember it with.
The secret language in any long term relationship is very important within it...
And you don't loose either the vocab nor the grammar simply because you are the
only speaker of your language left in your world.
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