Congratulations or Condolences?

Our divorce trial took place yesterday. At the very last minute, haggling over a few dollars in the courthouse cafeteria, we finalized our settlement. We appeared before the judge, were asked a few questions and then it was done. We're not officially divorced until the paperwork is signed but for all intents and purposes, our marriage is officially dissolved.

I drove to the courthouse the back way, through brilliantly sunlit farmland and rolling countryside. Flocks of Canada geese flew overhead and a deer stood motionless in a field. I smiled at the beauty of the day, breathed it in and tried to focus on the task at hand. But walking up the courthouse steps, all the bucolic peace I was channeling on the way in dissipated into that familiar heartache and grief. I am getting a divorce.

In the courthouse cafeteria my husband sat working on his laptop. I sat near him and said hello. He asked to borrow a pen. Silently he wrote me a check for this month's support. The awkward tension between us was tortuous. His lawyer soon entered the room and the two of them moved to another table to discuss some last minute details. They summoned my lawyer over to negotiate some final provisions as I sat trembling and alone in the overly air-conditioned room. Jurors came in and bought bagels and cups of coffee. Orange jump-suited inmates were escorted through the building. Lawyers and government employees carried on with their day. And there I sat in suspended animation as our 15 year marriage was summarized by one final dollar amount and the exchange of some furniture.

In the courtroom we sat with our lawyers. The judge had a teddy bear beard, kind eyes and a soothing voice. He praised us for our "creativity" in settling the case ourselves. He asked each of us if we wanted him to ratify the agreement and in the sweep of his pen on paper my relationship with my husband was reduced to a court order. His Honor shook my hand and said the strangest thing, "congratulations."

The dictionary defines "congratulate" as "to express pleasure to, as on a happy occasion." Numbly walking to my car I wondered how the shattering of a dream, a partnership, a family could possible be deemed a "happy occasion." Certainly the judge should have offered his condolences which is "the expression of sympathy to a person experiencing sorrow, misfortune or grief."

I started up my car and turned my iPod to shuffle. Queen's "I Want to Break Free" started blasting through my stereo. I laughed at Fate's cruel sense of humor. Sorrow, misfortune, grief. I felt them all and the tears fell nonstop on the drive home. The judge's seemingly inappropriate "congratulations" buzzed through my head all day. And maybe, I started to consider, he was on to something. Because maybe he didn't view our divorce as an ending, something to grieve and so offer us his condolences. Maybe he saw it as starting over, a happy occasion worthy of congratulating.

When bad things happen we can choose to stay mired in the sorrow and lament our misfortune. But we do also have the choice to look beyond the pain and see an opportunity to start fresh, learn from the past and consciously pave the way to a happier future. So I'm wiping my tears and starting today will choose congratulations over condolences.