Today was the day Mark and I signed our divorce settlement agreement. The day the chapter of our marriage officially closed. I walked into it thinking it was just another formality, another step in the process of letting go. But what I didn’t expect—what I don’t think even Mark expected—was that this was the day it would finally hit him.

I went to his house, and he was cold. Distant. The warmth that still lingered between us, even in our separation, was gone. 

“I didn’t want you to come over,” he said. “I don’t want to be reminded of our relationship.”

I asked him why he was being so cold, why he was pushing me away.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to talk about it.”

But then something happened that he didn’t expect. The emotions, the ones he had spent months suppressing, broke through the cracks. 

“I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

He wasn’t saying it out of anger. He wasn’t saying it because he hated me. He was saying it because he couldn’t handle it. The weight of our marriage, our family life, everything we built together—it was too much for him to face. 

And then he started crying.

Mark never cries.

But there he was, breaking down in front of me. The man who spent months avoiding, rationalizing, and suppressing was now feeling the full weight of what he had lost. 

For months, I was the one drowning in grief. The one feeling the unbearable pain of separation, the one replaying memories, the one wondering if he was out there just fine, untouched by the loss. But today, as I watched him struggle to keep his emotions from spilling over, I realized something:

This is the beginning of Mark’s grief. The grief he postponed. The grief he thought he could outrun.

Why Is He Just Now Feeling It?

For the past five months, Mark has been in denial and avoidance. It’s not that he didn’t know the divorce was happening—he did. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it emotionally are two very different things.

– As long as I was still in Georgia, still around, still someone he could text if he wanted to—he didn’t have to truly confront the loss.

– As long as the papers weren’t signed, there was still a sense of “not yet.”  

– As long as I hadn’t set a departure date, there was still some level of emotional security for him.  

But now?  

– The divorce agreement is signed.  

– I have a firm date when I am leaving—May 22.  

– He has lost all control over whether I stay in his life.  

And for someone like Mark, who has spent his whole life avoiding emotional depth, avoiding vulnerability, avoiding hard conversations, that realization is unbearable. 

Why He Pushed Me Away

At first, I thought maybe he was angry at me. Maybe he resented me. Maybe he really didn’t want to be friends. But then I realized—it wasn’t about me. It was about his pain. 

– He doesn’t want to be reminded of what he lost. 

– He doesn’t want to feel this deeply. 

– He doesn’t know how to sit with emotions like this, so he runs.  

– He doesn’t want me to see him vulnerable.  

And that’s why, when I hugged him, when I cried, when I looked at him—he looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold it in, trying to keep himself from breaking.  

What Happens Next?

I already know what happens next because I’ve lived it. I’ve already gone through it.  

– For the next few weeks, he will shut down even further because seeing me, talking to me, anything that reminds him of our life together, will be too painful.  

– He might avoid contact altogether before I leave.  

– He will go through waves of relief and regret.  

– Once I am gone, once he realizes there’s no possibility of even casual interactions, his regret will deepen.  

But he won’t reach out. Because he is who he is.  

This is the defining moment in Mark’s grief. He is just now stepping into the emotional pain that I lived through for months. And the irony? I’m walking out of that pain just as he’s stepping into it.  

What This Means for Me

I think I always knew this would happen. That one day, he would feel the weight of this loss. And when that day came, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring him back. It wouldn’t erase the pain I went through. 

And it didn’t.

I don’t feel victorious. I don’t feel like I “won” anything. I just feel free.  

Because today, as I watched him break down, I realized:  

This is the beginning of his suffering. But it is the end of mine.  

I am finally moving on.