On August 1, 2016, as “M” and I crossed the Colorado state line en route to our new life out West, I did so with eyes wide open. Confident as I was that we were making the right move, I was not under any illusion that it came with guarantees of a new-and-improved relationship. To the contrary I had a sense it would go one of two ways. Either we would embrace the change of scenery and find the support we needed to grow our relationship or we would discover that after 22 years of marriage the well that fed our connection had run dry. By January, 2017, after our first two counseling sessions, I began an argument with reality that ended a month later in the parking lot of my favorite ski hill.

Very early in my first winter in Colorado, Eldora Mountain won my heart as one my new favorite places. My dream day there was a weekday aftenoon with snow coming down.  After 3pm, on the backside, it was not unusual to get in several runs without seeing another skier, an experience that evoked a near near-mystical sense of having a whole mountain to myself.  Some such days included headphones and a made for skiing playlist called “Eldora’s Finest” that inspired downhill grooving to the likes of Blackstreet’s “Yo Diggity”, Sting’s “Fields of Gold”, and Steppenwolf’s “Magic Carpet Ride”.  If time permitted I might end the day with one of the planet’s best Bloody Marys in the mountain’s cozy base lodge.

As fate would have it a day came that February when it looked like the stars, the snow gods and my schedule were perfectly aligned.  After excitedly making the 40 minute, after-lunch drive to enjoy perfect conditions I noticed early on that something was wrong.  On the lift rides up I felt consumed with sadnesss. In hindsight the reason should have been obvious but at the the time I couldn’t explain what was troubling me. By mid afternoon I was concerned that I could not shake it, not even with the music and my very best turns on top of 3-to-4 fresh inches.

As 4pm neared I made my last run down to the base. Popping out of my skis just below the stairs to the lodge I skipped the Bloody Mary and walked straight to my car. After getting out of my boots and packing my gear into the back I felt the customary body fatigue of a good day of skiing but was still weighted down by this sadness that I hadn’t yet put my finger on.

Once seated I turned on the car.  The radio came on…..not feeling that. As the car heated up and I looked behind me to back out, I just couldn’t bring myself to make the move. Instead I turned the car off and just sat there in the sadness. After a few minutes the sadness turned into wave after wave of grief whose origin was finally revealed as I began thinking about my marriage.

As I sat in the car and allowed space to feel into it I felt scared. For the first time in our marriage I faced a moment of real doubt about whether or not we would make it. Then, in an experience I would best describe as the eye of my soul opening to me, I saw something clearly. The soul-deep relationship that I yearned for and had glimpses of with M was not going to happen. Somewhere along the way, at our respective cores, we had separated. Her heart had closed to me; my pipes were similarly clogged. Spiritually speaking our relationship was dead; our journey as husband and wife was coming to an end.

Then I wept. And wept. And wept. And wept. For the next 20 minutes I sat in my car in Eldora’s parking lot and just sobbed. Memories of better times flashed before my eyes….Christmas mornings and beach trips with the kids, then fading images of the shared future I had long taken for granted we would share. I wanted to argue with what I was seeing. “God, please no. I know we have some challenges but I still love her so much. What …… the ……..actual…….hell. No!!!!!!”

There was no winning this argument. There was no thinking going on to push back against or reason with. Instead it was a feeling of something dying inside, accompanied by grief, that I could feel in my bones. So I cried and cried some more until I finally, mercifully, felt the approach of some lightness. The clouds began lifting; the storm was passing.

Steadying myself as I backed up and made my way out of the parking lot I began to feel better on the other side of letting the emotions flow. The storm had passed but it’s message did not lift with it. My and M’s marriage was through.  And though it would be another few weeks before we had our first conversation acknowledging such feelings and uttering the D word, my divorce journey had begun.