In September 2016, I came to Rome three days after my
husband of 21 years had dumped me for the second time. Nobody knew that but me.
I set off 5,000 miles away from home by myself to face heartbreak alone. I was doing
well the first two days after he dumped me (To be fair, he was quite kind, but
I use artistic license because however eloquently delivered, it translates to
“I don’t want you” and that is being dumped).
I was actually happy that he had verbalized what I figured out after our
second counseling session. I had made peace with the fact that our marriage had
laid down to die and was just waiting for it to take its last breath. I felt
like I was living the lyrics of Neither One of Us Wants to Say Goodbye[1].
I clung to our marriage like I clung to the hope that I would be the one to
break the cycle of marital dysfunction and we’d be the ones to make it. But all
good shows come an end and he had the courage to say what needed to be said. We
kissed and said goodbye just like the Manhattans[2]
and the Taylor version of the Huxtables[3]
came to an end. I didn’t even cry. I was truly relieved. The burden of killing
a dead horse had become too much to bear. I was looking forward to going to
Rome to contemplate life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
But I did not fly off happily into the sunset. Three hours
before leaving for the airport, he decided he needed to talk. He just wanted me
to know that he was 100% sure that he had made the right decision. Really??
Did I ask you that? Did you really think I was wondering that? I
could tell that he needed to get peace with his decision and needed to talk
through why he made it, but I was not the one to give it to him. Dude, you
dumped me. I cannot be the one to console you about your breakup. Despite the
turmoil of our marriage, we were really good friends. We had grown up together
pretty much. We married at 22 & 23 and had spent half of our adult lives
together. Who else would he talk to? But this was the one thing I could not
talk to him about. He had dumped me six months before and we had gotten back
together. I am a strong woman, but getting dumped is devastating and crushing
to the ego. I can’t console the one who dumped me twice. And so the freedom
began to weigh me down and my joy faded to desolation once again. As I
dramatized Jesus giving up the ghost, I told him that just like Jesus on the
cross, “It is done.” There is no more to be said. I am no longer your person to
talk to. You must find someone else. And so he changed the topic. Let’s talk
about the financial terms of the divorce. Seriously? I am leaving
for the airport in an hour. Now is not the time.
And instead of leaving for Rome in victory, I left in tears.
I cried the entire flight to Chicago. I cried at the gate in London.
Mercifully, I slept the entire flight to Rome. And I arrived feeling hopeful. I
decided that I would visit seven churches to cleanse me of my heartbreak. I
plotted out my route and the next day, I set off. I was feeling good until he
texted me to say he was 100% sure that we were meant to be together. Wait? How
does one go from I’m 100% sure that I don’t want you to I’m 100% sure that we
were meant to be together? This was three days later. Is our marriage Jesus?
Have we come back from the dead? So instead of spending my trip in Rome healing
and giving up the ghost of our marriage, I spent it on the phone and texting
him about whether or not we would get back together. It was agonizing. Part of
me wanted to say, F**k It! It’s over and it should stay over. Part of me wanted
to fix it, because I so desperately wanted my family to stay together. The boys
didn’t know. I didn’t want to break their hearts a second time. But you cannot
fix what is not broken. Some things fall apart because they no longer go
together. And there is nothing to do but leave them as they are.
The night that I left Rome, I visited my friend Tamara at
her wonderful home. We had wine, commiserated on love loss and being badasses
in spite of the bullsh*t that love has thrown our way. I took a picture with
the original, Turandot[4],
in celebration of Vincero! After I left her home, I walked around the
neighborhood and took in the sights one last time. I had a late dinner at a
little café and enjoyed a final glass of wine. I walked to the top of the
Spanish Steps and looked out over the cityscape. It felt magnificent and full
of possibility. I released my fate to the stars and celebrated the renaissance
that was on the horizon. I prayed that God would allow me to return to Rome to
write. I wanted to come for three months, but I would take a week. My story of
redemption began in Rome, so it was only fitting that I would return to write
about it.
I returned home thinking that maybe I was going to stay
married, maybe not. We had a lovely reunion only for him to touch me in the
morning, then just walk away[5].
I wasn’t sure if that was goodbye or not. It was. While I was driving to my
brother’s wedding, he called me to tell me that we should remain separated and
proceed with the divorce. I always thought that was a face to face
conversation, but maybe I’m just crazy. So I sat through my brother’s wedding
mourning the end of my marriage and realizing that I had been dumped a third
time. Wow! Who gets dumped three times by the same man in one summer? Me! It
makes for great character building. I believe that life is a great lesson and
wrote about my Eat. Pray. Love. A Roman Holiday for One experience.
Fast forward to 2017. I had a great opportunity to speak at
an event in London for business. And since I was across the pond, why not go to
Rome? Made sense to me! London was an awesome adventure. My last night in
London was the best—full of the unexpected! My return to Rome was like Caesar
crossing the Rubicon. There is no turning back. There is only moving forward.
As I entered Rome, I felt the weight of the past year lift from me. It was
truly magical.
My taxi driver, Mario, was a true gift. He was a 10th
generation Roman and wanted me to enjoy his city. He said he would show me the
city on my way to my friend’s house. I pled the blood of Jesus that he was not
some human trafficking lynchpin and off we went.
On that note, I must mention that the guardian angel
assigned to me deserves all of her props. I always say that God protects fools,
children, and me. If you ever doubt his existence, remember that he protects me
from my choices and adventurous nature.
Mario took me around the city and our first stop was atop
the Aventine Keyhole on the Aventine Hill, where you could look through the
keyhole of a gate and see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica. It was magnificent
in the moonlight! We drove by the Bocca della Verità, the Mouth of Truth, which
legend says that if a liar puts their hand inside its mouth, they will lose it.
Then he said he had a surprise me for me and to trust him and I was certain I
would end up on the Italian 6:00 news. But to my delight, he took me to the
Trevi Fountain! It was as magical as I remembered it on my first night in Rome
the year before. He told me that if I drank from the drinking fountain and made
a wish, it would be just as good as throwing a coin in the fountain. So I did!
After the Trevi Fountain, he took me on to my friend’s home
and we had a lovely time reconnecting over wine on her terrace. Her home is a
truly magical place. I felt so peaceful in her presence. She is one of those
people who just exudes one with the universe and you can’t help but fall in
sync. She is an expat from Texas who escaped to Rome many years ago. She is the
inspiration for my plot for my own escape! I sat up for a little bit after she
went to bed and marveled at the fact that I was really here! God is a mighty
redeemer and provider. I am grateful that He made a way for me to return.
I went to Rome to write and that’s what I did. The words
just seem to flow from me like water. I was able to write without straining. I
completed Deciding on Joy! mostly on
the terrace of my friend’s home, wrote a chapter on the Spanish Steps, and
pieces at little cafes around Rome. My
muse loves Rome. She comes to me freely! I love Rome. I feel free when I am
there. It has come to represent a spirit of courage. I have learned to embrace
the spirits. I feel the spirit move in me and I follow it. I connect with the
spirits in others. I have learned to keep on going when I detect a funky
spirit. Some folks just exude funkiness. I don’t try to fix the funk anymore. That
is not my responsibility. I have entered a season of connection with sweet
spirits. If your spirit ain’t sweet, I ain’t got nothing for you. You gon’ be
alright when Jesus comes.
My return to Rome was my personal sequel to Eat Pray Love!
As before, I enjoyed the culinary delicacies of Italian food. Every day I ate
my favorite pastas and had gelato for dinner. I ran 5 miles every day so that I
would not bust out of my clothes. I made a goal to run the Spanish Steps 10
times. I did this one day. It was grueling but I did it! I incorporated the
stairs into my run and had a wonderful route from the Piazza di Spagna to the
Piazza del Popolo! On the last day, I switched up my route and ran past the
Pantheon and Trevi Fountain in between the piazzas. It was so cool to run
through the streets of Rome!
I didn’t visit as many churches this time. I got to the ones
I missed during my last pilgrimage—the two churches in the Piazza del Popolo
and the holy grail of my quest, the Basilica of San Clemente al Laterano. I had
been trying to make it to this church for the past three years! I got lost the
first year I came to Rome in 2015 and when I got there it was closed. In 2016,
I got there too late before it closed for lunch. I never could make it back
during that trip. I almost didn't make it this time, but I persevered! Making
it to that church was so symbolic of many things in my life, that I cried like
a baby when I got there. As before, I prayed in each church. I allowed tears of
joy to fall this time and not tears of sorrow.
And then there is Love. Oh love! At Basilica of San Clemente
al Laterano I prayed for love—love that was lost and love yet to be found.
Despite all that has happened, I still believe in love, but I also know exactly
what it looks like. I know how it feels and how it shouldn’t. Love is simple in
all of its complexities. Life is short, but life is also long. We should not
spend it trying to force love to be what it is not. The greatest lesson that
I’ve learned about love is this:
If it don't fit,
don't force it
just relax and let
it go
Just because
that's how you want it
doesn't mean it
will be so[6]
You can love someone and your relationship does not work. You
can be good people and not good for each other. Sometimes love fades and
sometimes it transforms. But in the end, love never fails. If you are open for
love, it will find you. And you’ll know it when you see it. You’ll know it when
you feel it. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the
greatest of these is love.
[3]
"The Cosby Show" was a popular sitcom
that aired in the 1982-1992 and centered on the lives of the Huxtables:
obstetrician Cliff and his lawyer wife Claire, their five children.
[4]
A painting by Elena
Tomasi Ferroni from her collection, In Nero, Fairy Tales and Histories
Reimagined and Retold. See the full
story of Turandot below.
No comments:
Post a Comment