Chapter 13 - Flanders

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There had also been a slow drip drip of prolonged pressure while we had waited for Max's possible relapse after his leukaemia. In many ways this was far more damaging than the immediate pressures of treatment and the illness. In those situations we had something definitive to fight, immediate situations which could be grasped and comprehended. After treatment there was nothing left to grasp. There was a slow grinding pressure while we waited interminably for the five year marker which would signal a step forward in Max's survival. It was a heavy burden which did not become fully apparent until after he died.

When Max died all that had been held at arm's length suddenly came to the fore. Where had the time gone? What had happened to our lives? There was no longer any need to forsake ourselves for Max. It was too late. We had both given our all to looking after him. We awoke from this nightmare to find ourselves as strangers each desperately trying to cope with our grief. Neither of us felt that there was any love left in the marriage when we decided to part. Emotions had been held at bay, but on Max's death there was a reckoning and we started to assess the cost.

Despite our decision, the practicality of our situation was that we could not financially afford to separate. This eventually changed after I set up my own company and we separated a year after Max's death.

Sara and I initially remained friends and there was little animosity. This caused a lot of confusion with mutual friends. This is not supposed to happen. People who part do not remain on good terms. If they do, then why did they part? They had no conception of the life we had been through or were currently going through. As Sara said "That's their problem." We did not try to explain ourselves. How can you? Any explanation is meaningless. Why bother?

Was separation the answer, was that the right thing to do? Yet again we live in a world of instant solutions. But what happens when there are no clear cut solutions? The separation was what we needed.

After Sara and I separated I often baby-sat Paula while Sara went out for the night. Babysitting became unbearable. Most nights I ended up crying my way through the evening. The rooms, the photos, and other triggers invoked a barrage of flashbacks from my past life which left me emotionally wrecked. I could not have continued living in the family home.

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