One of the things that makes me sad on religious holidays is my memory of having loved them, anticipated them, participated in them, and taken joy in them. I miss that. I miss that for my kids and my grandchildren, and if I let myself think about it too long, I start feeling guilty and playing the "if only" game.
There wasn't any way that things could have gone differently while I was determined to do the things I needed to do to keep strong and healthy and to give my children the future they deserved, so I don't regret leaving my first marriage even though I knew the price. I don't wish I hadn't taken the actions that were so necessary, but as I suspected I would, I did bang my head against the wall and wish it could have been otherwise, and mostly that was about the loss of the familiar and satisfying culture of the Church.
I respect people of faith---I envy them even. I've seen the strength and comfort they enjoy. Nothing has been able to take the place of faith, but I could never let myself creep in through the back door by ignoring things I'd believed to be true all my prior life.
Hmmm, I started out this post to say that I hoped this weekend had been restorative and peaceful for my family and friends. I still hope that was the case, and I think I can say it is true for me, but it's not the same.