A Sharp U-Turn Onto The Highroad Of Wifedom Causes Emotional Whiplash

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After the police cleared the scene the night of his death, Roman's mom, brother and I headed back to the house nearby.  Steadily over the next hour or so, Roman's other siblings and in-laws also filtered in.  Roman had successfully kept me at arms length from his family during our marriage, so sitting amongst them that night felt like I was in the company of strangers.  Likewise, there I was, a virtual stranger, present in a state of shared disbelief, attempting to comprehend the seemingly impossible events that brought us together in the childhood bedroom that Roman recently made his own again.  We sat with a palpable, yet imperceptible division between us.


Separated by metaphoric glass walls, it was as though we were all watching the same movie.  We were connected by our relations to Roman and connected by our collective shock over his sudden death; but also oddly, we were also somehow connected by our own personal disconnects from Roman.  Dynamics I was obviously aware of between Roman and me, but that I did not fully grasp the extent of between Roman and his family prior to that night.

Hesitantly, as we sat together processing the incredulity of his death, Roman’s family sought answers about the abrupt unraveling of our superficially stable union.  Their questioning came as a surprise, as I assumed they were already privy to the specific details - if not directly from Roman himself, then at least by way of the family grapevine.  But being that they were in the dark to the extent that they were, it become clear that I was not the only person in Roman’s life who experienced disconnect from him.

Certain family members knew parts of the story, while others knew nothing of our separation until the night of his passing.  Roman shared bits and pieces casually with his mom and brother Stu during the week that he was home, but neither his mother nor his five siblings were comfortable probing for details surrounding the breakdown of our marriage.

What’s more, those in the know were not at ease talking about circumstances with others in the family; preferring instead to let it come from Roman himself.  And apparently, Roman was offering up little on his own.  My willingness to answer their questions with direct candor seemed to relieve some of the isolated strain between us.  Further, it also quelled their initial concern about how I might behave toward them in the coming days.

As we began tossing around considerations for memorial arrangements, Roman’s family appeared unsure if my feelings surrounding Roman’s infidelity would cloud my willingness to make decisions that would be in line with Roman’s wishes (although as it turns out, none of us were exactly sure what his wishes were).  Apprehension from them was understandable at the time, given their unfamiliarity with my character thanks to Roman successfully distancing me from them during the tenure of our marriage.  In response, I attempted to put them at ease by reiterating my intention to work closely with Roman’s mom to do right by him.

My words were sincere, as I truly wanted to do the “right thing,” whatever that may turn out to be.  It was important to me that his family not be punished during their time of grief by any passive aggressive attempts from me, in a misguided effort to get back at Roman, by undermining his memorial.  Passive aggression is generally not my forte anyway and I understood that even if I were so inclined to act out angrily, my efforts would not affect Roman in the least, since he was now gone.
  
Unfortunately, however, instruction manuals and shortcuts for such situations are nonexistent, so my only option was simply to trust myself to get it right.  And it turned out that doing right by everyone meant taking the high road, ignoring my feelings about Roman’s affair, and putting my personal ambivalence about his character aside.

Without a doubt, I was conflicted about taking on such dedicated responsibilities for someone who had betrayed me, but there was a part of me remaining that felt like I was still Roman’s wife.  Given that it had been a mere 14 days since I was suddenly made aware of his infidelity, and it had been an even shorter seven days since he had left our apartment to stay with his mom, it was relatively easy for me to reinstate my wifely role after Roman died.
  
Consequently though, I realize the shift back to wifehood came at a personal cost, now that I consider it in retrospect.  Occurring after sudden stream of numerous life-altering trials that I was already dealing with at that point, the impromptu 180-degree mental switch into reverse produced an emotional whiplash, which coupled with profound grief and the subsequent discovery of Roman’s mistress, eventually led to a type of breakdown in functioning that I can only describe as a “psychological concussion.”  But I digress…

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