My daughter delivered the news a week ago that my ex-husband’s cancer has mutated and his prognosis is poor. Jack (as he was named in my book, “My View of the Couch “) was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia fifteen years ago, shortly before my own journey with cancer began. He has been stable at Stage 0 without treatment since that time. However, a recent car accident uncovered some troubling symptoms which triggered his oncologist to order a PET scan and then a biopsy. The biopsy revealed the mutation, named Richter’s Syndrome. Doing my own consult with Dr. Google revealed he likely had months, not years to live. The real doctors said the same.

For those of my readers who have followed me for a while or read my book, you know that Jack created a mountain of pain after our separation and divorce, mostly around the hurt he deliberately inflicted on our daughters. I would like to say the wounds have healed, but every once in a while I think about that time and emotions of pain and anger wash over me. And one might assume knowing this history, that the news of his impending death would be met with very little emotion on my part. But that is not my truth, as my emotions are much more complicated that that. Because right next to the painful memories sits the happy ones. The memories of family bike rides, running through the sprinkler with the kids, holiday rituals, and love. Right next to the angry emotions sits the fact that our marriage was a twenty year chapter in my story. Right next to the wounds are the experiences of raising out two young daughters. It carries a lot of emotional weight for me.

And so, every time I have talked with my daughters, they ask me at the end of the conversation how I am doing and I answer, “It’s complicated.” This elicits a quiet chuckle and a “mmm” from them. Their own relationship with their father is complicated and they too, are experiencing memories of betrayal mingled with memories of love.

Why did I think this was worth writing about? Because relationships are complicated. It would have been easier to push away those happy memories and only remember the pain he caused. This would have allowed me to bypass any grief. But the truth is he is human. We all are. And to focus on only one aspect of him does not effect him, but me. I often tell my kids that if you do not allow yourself to feel the uncomfortable, painful emotions in life, you do not get to feel emotions like love, peace, and contentment. That is true here. Hurt and love can co-exist in my memories. So while it would be less complicated, I am going to allow myself to smile at the happy memories, acknowledge the pain, and pray for this human being to have comfort and connection as he travels this very difficult road.

Be well, my dear readers.