Why?

"Why?"

The birthday cake was on his table. He was alone. The first time in years, he was sitting alone.

Nobody was close.

Family was 2,000 miles away. The floor was more comfortable than a chair.

Maybe he didn't deserve the chair, maybe the floor is where he belonged. That is how he felt. His stomach was in knots; the cigarettes couldn't quench his urge for comfort or calmness. He glanced at the floor, next to his leg was a revolver. He didn't remember putting it there. He knew better though, he wasn't going that route. Was it there for show, incase somebody came back?

Every passing car, he stood up and looked out the window. "Is she coming back? Is she driving by?" He started getting good at identifying cars that drove by in the night.

It was his birthday. He just turned 32. He was always a pretty- happy man. He had his issues. Overall, he was a good dude. He was funny, he was logical, and he held good conversation.

He held her in the highest regard. He loved and respected her. He would do anything for her.

"Why?"

He looked at the cake. He hadn't even cut a slice. he was waiting for her return. He wanted the cake together. He wanted to celebrate with her. He wanted to laugh at their inside jokes while they ate. He wanted to lay with her. He just wanted the old days back.

Once again, he heard a car. He jumped up, he looked out of the kitchen window, it was an SUV, not her. He slid back to the floor. He grabbed his phone to call her as he lit another cigarette. He never smoked in the house, but these past couple days, he couldn't gather the energy to go outside, and if he did would he miss her drive by? Would he lose his opportunity? He had to stay on point.

Voicemail.

Why isn't she answering? Who was she with? She must be having the time of her life right now, at this very moment.

He got angry. He wanted to slam his phone down and break it but if he did, he wouldn't be able to answer her call. Instead, he finished his cigarette, put in a water bottle, used as an ashtray, then lit another one.

The day before she left, they were on the couch, cuddling, looking out at the snow. She told him that she was happy they got married, and that they bought the house. He knew this was forever. What more in life could somebody want, a beautiful wife, a new house, a great job. It was all inline for happiness.

Oh, the difference in a day. 24-hours, how life can change.

He waited up for her to get home from work. It was way past his normal time to be up, but he had that next day off, so it wasn't a big deal.

She walked in; she looked tired. She sat on the couch. He walked out to her. She looked up at him.

"I'm done."

"What happened? Tough day?" He asked thinking she was referring to her job.

"No. I am done."

"Okay, what happened?"

"I want a divorce....."

His head went back as his eyes squinted. His mouth was a little open in disbelief.

"Why?" He asked thinking there must be a punchline, or this was a joke.

"I am just done." She said as she got up and walked to the bedroom and shut the door.

He stood there. His mind raced. He followed her. He knocked on the door.

"Why?"

No answer.

"Hey, why?. Talk to me."

No answer.

He opened the door and as he did, she put her phone down. She looked up. "What?"

He was in amazement. He looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because I am done." Then she looked for her phone that was on the bed and she grabbed it.

"What did I do?"

No answer.

Hey. You have to talk!" His voice became a little loud.

" I told you that I am done. I want a divorce."

"Yeah, but why? What happened?"

She breathed out. "Look. Stop asking me why. I want a divorce and that's it."

He was irate. He stepped back, "What the ..." he decided before his voice got loud and this escalated, he would step outside catch his breath, center himself a bit. Then he would come back in and resolve this.

He stepped outside. He lit a cigarette, then another. He tried to gather himself, and a million things raced in his mind. He gave her a couple minutes. He walked back in. He heard the shower going, he tried to open the door, but it was locked, okay it hadn't been locked in years. He went to the kitchen; he washed his hands. He grabbed a water from the fridge. He heard the shower stop. He heard her fidgeting around then he heard the door open.

He walked around the corner, to meet her, but she walked straight into the bedroom, shut and locked the door.

He wanted to kick the door in, but he knew better.

He stood outside the door.

"Okay, can we talk now?"

"I am done talking." She replied.

"You haven't said shit!"

No answer.

He hit the door, with his palm open. He quickly composed himself. He knew this wasn't the route he was going to take. He wasn't going to force himself in the room.

He heard her get close to the door. He stepped back.

He was expecting the door to open, but he heard the click on the light switch. He knocked on the door again.

"Hey, you can't just say this and not tell me why or think that I won't have questions."

"We will talk tomorrow. Just let me go to sleep."

He took a breath. He stepped back. "Okay."

He walked to the couch. He sat down. He sat for hours, hoping she would wake up and come to him, kiss him, hug him, and tell him she changed her mind. But that never came. He ended up falling asleep as the sun was coming up.

He woke up. He looked at his phone. He saw a message from her.

"Bye."

He ran to the room. Some of her clothes were still there, but she wasn't. He quickly called her, but it went straight to voicemail. He called numerous times again, but voicemail, voicemail, voicemail.

He fell to the floor like a toddler. He started balling. He looked to the ground, covered his face with his palms, and yelled out.

"Why?"

His birthday was that next weekend. It came and went. Nothing changed. No discussion, no contact. Nothing.

It was like a death to him. It was like she died.

One day there, the next day gone.

It took time.

A couple months later, he received a text.

His heart beat fast as he saw the notification.

It was her.

"I need to come by. We have to talk."

He was excited. He wasn't over her by any means, he hadn't even fully accepted the fact that she was gone, or the relationship was over. He was overcome with joy, overcome with excitement that she reached out after a thousand messages and calls that were never returned. He took a shower, he cleaned, he put on nice clothes, even though they were too big for him, he had lost probably 30-40 pounds since she left.

He waited by the kitchen window. He saw her car; it slowly pulled into the driveway. He ran to the backdoor. He opened it as she walked up.

She looked at him, she noticed the weight loss. She studied him. He studied her. She looked beautiful. A little heavier, but nothing too noticeable.

They hugged. he hugged as tight as he could without hurting her.

She stepped back and looked at him in the eye.

"I am not here to talk about us. This is only about the house and the cars and the bills."

His heart dropped. He lost his breath. That burning pit in his stomach returned with a vengeance. That hurt him.

He looked down. He wanted to ask "Why?"

He knew it wouldn't do any good.

He saw her one more time.

The divorce hearing, a year later. She walked in as he was waiting outside the courtroom. They exchanged pleasantries. She looked okay, nothing like he remembered. She wasn't beautiful to him anymore. The pain he had been through, the grief, had made him not regard her at all.

The hearing went well, she didn't ask for anything and he sold the house. They left the courtroom, as they walked out, they said their final goodbyes. He stayed for a second and watched her walk away. She never turned around.

The love of his life disappeared back into the world from which she came. Her own life, her own thoughts.

Love is a crazy thing; you are the closest of people. Share everything. Then one day it is gone. Like it never existed. You just have to deal with it; you can't force someone to love you. Either they do or they don't.

A couple years went by and as he was talking to old friends, one woman slipped up and let him know that his wife at the time, 2-3 years before she left him was cheating on him with a man from her job. This broke his heart, but it wasn't as damning at this point.

He did come across someone that told him his ex-wife was remarried and had twins. The age of the twins matched up to the timeframe of when she left him.

From time to time, he thinks about the love of his life, he is not angry anymore but still hurt that he questioned himself for the divorce. He thought he was the problem, thought that he did wrong.

My advice to him and anyone else is.... " Some people are just who they are. Just because we have these feelings for people doesn't mean they have to have the same feelings for us. The goal is to be happy and live your life with the person you are with, you can hope they feel the same, but deep down you never know how somebody truly feels, but if you love them and show them that you love them, you have done your part, and that is all you can do."

It has been 15-16 years since this happened, and he still ask

"Why?"

Now though, it's less frequent and less important and his life is for the better now.

Every Scar is a victory.