Firstly, you must know that I came to Miles as a very broken person. I was sick, tired, and emotionally drained. The compasses in my life began to resemble the crowds in the tower of Babel...a rising cacophony that lacked distinguishable sound...and I was lost in my own life.

Miles and I have known each other our entire adult lives, and have been inexplicably close from day one. We existed as close-knit friends for well over three years before we delved deeper into our bond and became a couple. We wanted happiness for each other, we wanted love and joy for each other...always that. So, when I began to struggle, and when I needed escape, shelter, and warmth, Miles not only asked me to take his hand, but demanded it.

October 14th, I returned from the hospital to discover my husband gone. I began bottoming out in my depression last Wednesday, almost three weeks since I last saw my beloved's face. Almost three weeks without communication with the exception of a few clipped emails. I felt the weight of failure—as his friend and as his wife...as a care provider for my mother...as a woman who took the marriage contract very seriously. My chest pained me considerably, and I realized that it was the pain of a broken heart, a broken fairy tale, and a broken life.




Yesterday was All Saints Sunday, did you know that? "Who are the saints?" Pastor would ask after describing the people in his own life. Who are the saints?—I have many. I have my mother, who is my pixie dust...my shimmer of beauty sparkling from the pit of charcoal. I have my aunt, Brenda, who helps me laugh and be merry when the beacon of humor has extinguished. I have my aunt, Debbie, who hugs as though she'll absorb away the pain. I have my many sisters in fitness, who offer undying prayers and support. I have my dear friend, Sarah, who has recently come back into my life after too many years of lost communication. I have Pastor Doug, who keeps my eyes alighted on the most basic love. But, most strikingly: I have Miles, who has supported me during so much, called me back from the ledge so many times. I will never forget that, nor could I.

I think I may just need this moment of separation as much as he does. A sense of duty and responsibility will sometimes pull at a person until they're stretched away from their natural form. I know that Miles and I will always have a connection, that inexplicable bind. I know that we still love each other, in some definition, and probably always will. I know his heart, and while I can't pretend to understand his head, I know that he had to believe that this had to be done for it to be worth the buckets of pain that we now bear in equal shares. We have had beautiful times together, and I can't let my memories be marred by bitterness. Instead, I choose to let them shine in the sun that waits for me tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.

This is a time that I will use to grow stronger than I was before, than I ever have been before...we both will. We get knocked down so that we remember how to get back up, and too much dust has had a chance to settle on the soles of my feet. The devastation has passed, and now it is time to rebuild.

Please wish us both peace and prosperity in whatever may come.