This is part 6 “Death without Dying.”

It summarizes the feelings and anguish of my good friend who came home from a business trip and was greeted at the door by his wife who said, “I’ve found someone else. I’m leaving.”

Here are more of his thoughts:

Can I ever feel gratitude for the thirty-three years? Or will I resent staying when the going was crazy, the behaviors wrong? Will I ever be grateful to myself for sticking with it for the sake of the girls, when now the bonds get reordered? We were not the perfect couple. I was not always happy. I suffered. I gave up opportunity. I experienced loss of much of my youth to assure that our imperfections would not permanently infect my kids. I didn’t always handle it the right way and acted out my unhappiness and punishments quietly, internally and externally. But never overtly. Perhaps that was wrong. As wrong as thinking you can change another person or their behavior. I can and do celebrate the team that was though. The end result of the daughters she raised. The business partnership that brought me much career success and adulation. The uncomplaining acceptance and accomplished performance of so many of the tasks that I didn’t like doing. She did good.

It’s in there somewhere. And it scares the hell out of me. It’s got to show its ugly face. And I want to be ready for it. Cause I know that I’m angry. I’m mad as hell. I’m genuinely pissed off. She has hurt me inappropriately, acted irrationally, disregarded my feelings and my values, has not acknowledged my love and devotion, has hurt my children and will hurt my mother, sisters and my few friends. How can that anger be directed to healing, to repair, to protection of the totally unknown future? Will I be ready when it strikes and be able to channel the anger productively, begin the process of forgiveness? I’m still in shock. But I know this train is coming. I just don’t know when it’s pulling into the station. And if it carries a bomb?My anger is not pretty. It’s a beach ball held under water that slips away, explodes through the surface, often surprising not only those around me, but taking me by surprise as well. What needs to happen for me to find peace?