Numbers

361 days ago, I ended my marriage for good.

We had been together for 14 years, 12 days.

This 12th month has proved to be one of the most gnarly I have experienced in a while.

On the 15 year anniversary of our 1st date, I briskly walked out of a courtroom crying after a hearing to overturn a default judgement became one of the most humiliating experiences I've ever had.

By the time I got to my car, I was crying so hard my whole body shook and I felt like I might vomit.  I cried for over an hour.

It took over 8 months to actually file the divorce paperwork.

In 18 days, it will have been 90 days since I filed for divorce.  Once that time limit is up, we are free to move forward.  I am that much closer to being free.

3 years 8 months and 7 years 8 months are the amounts of time my children had with their father before he disappeared.

Now, they spend 7 hours a week with a person who is their parent, but who they both know and don't know.  I cannot imagine how confusing this must be for a child.

In 11 months, they have spent a total of approximately 11 full days with their other parent.  Every day, Danny asks me if it is "daddy day" and if it isn't, how many days until it is?

Millions.  The number of questions I have about life.

What will my children remember of this period in their lives?  How can I give them so much and still feel like I wish I could give them more?  Will they be okay?  Will they feel as confused and experience turmoil like I did after my parent's divorce?

This is not what I wanted for my children.

Last night, we decorated our 1st Christmas tree as a family of 3.  We found the 'S' and 'D' ornaments I bought the boys at Kohl's, they look like frosted cookies.  Sam spotted a candy cane ornament.

"It's a J for Justin!"

"It's a candy cane.  There is no Justin anymore."

"Justin still exists in our hearts."

Where had he heard this?  Did someone tell him this?  He says he just thought of it himself.  5 minutes later...

"Justin still exists in our hearts."

"Yeah..."

"I miss Justin."

Infinite.  The number of pieces I think my heart is broken into.