My first divorce didn't seem like a death because I was the one who wanted out.  

Silly me, I married again.

When he left our home, it was as if someone had died. In a sense, he had. The man I had fallen in love with didn't exist any more, maybe he never did.  Whatever. In any case, my husband ceased to exist. He died.

There is still a man walking around that looks like him and has a temper like him, but he isn't the man I was married to. Since I can't find the essence of the man I was married to, I guess he no longer exists and isn't that the meaning of death?

Once I began mourning the marriage and the man I once loved, I was able to "get on" with things.

I had to accept that our family was "dead" too. There were no more great family holidays or family vacations. My daughter and I went from living a comfortable life to a life of poverty financially speaking. We still suffer the financial hardships, but the joy of living has returned.

I have never understood why those who are "left" by their spouses want them to return.  As painful as the separation - divorce - metamorphosis can be, and usually is, it must be dealth with.  Once someone leaves you, you can never trust them again. Who would want to live that way?  Waking up every day wondering if this is the day he will leave me again - no thanks.

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you strong.

Joy cometh in the morning.