In view of what happens to poor Duncan at the end of the "canonical" Tale of Sophia Renee, I have just had an inspiration to post necessary news here. And if someone replies, I'll know that people do still visit my long-existing Writing Club threads.
I am now in a position somewhat like my Scottish hero. Forsaken.
When I first courted the Finnish-American woman who has been on this forum under the name of Karoliina Aleksandra, she warned me that her decades of living all alone were deeply ingrained in her psyche. Once married to me, Carol did give it a serious effort, showing me all sorts of tender consideration and kindness. But now, it appears that even she did not realize in 2012 just how persistent her go-it-alone emotional pattern would prove to be.
Three and one-quarter years after our wedding, and without being able to point to any major offense on my part, Carol has presented me with a divorce summons. She simply doesn't want to be a married woman, and our pastor could not change her mind. So there is no point in my contesting it. ("If you love something, set it free.") In acknowledgement of the fact that only she wanted a divorce, she is leaving our church, though friends of hers there will still see her outside of church, which is well and good.
One well-meaning Roman Catholic friend of mine was naive enough to imagine that at this late date, I would be able to persuade Carol to switch the "regular" divorce to an annulment of some revised type. I gently assured my friend (not a T.D.L. member) that Carol was not about to be bothered with any such complexities when she is so close to her desired singleness. Useless advice from good-hearted friends is one of the extra pains attendant on a situation like mine. (I note here that our EveningStar has shared helpful insights with me; he is the Magister, after all.)
It's a situation I never expected to be in.
This is the only direct reference I plan to make on T.D.L. to my tragedy. I did not manage to be a good enough husband to enable Carol to discard her solitary instincts, if indeed that was ever possible. But by way of the pastor, she has received a note from me, which concludes like this:
"For the rest of my life, I will pray that someday you and I can meet in Heaven, with everything healed and made right between us."
Carol has not rejected God; she has only rejected me, deciding that her long-troubled state of mind constitutes legitimate grounds for divorcing me. Whatever anyone else thinks of her justification (don't bother asking me what I think of it), she has not acted out of any desire to go against God Himself. Therefore, I can hold on to the belief that, with Carol still having a faith in Jesus, the better day will come; she and I will meet again with every injury undone. ("Is everything sad going to come untrue?" "In this case, yes!")
There, in Aslan's Country, it will no longer be necessary for me to think of my Karoliina as an "EX-wife." She will simply be the third of the three women I was married to on Earth, and seeing each other in Heaven will be a glad thing for us both.
While I still have the earthly journey to complete, one good thing may be emerging from this calamity. My adult daughter Annemarie has been divorced, and the new common ground between us (albeit involuntary on my part) does appear to be drawing us closer together.
I will appreciate anyone praying that what has happened to me by no desire of mine will not somehow be thrown up in my face by someone wanting to discredit me as a Christian.