0.9 A hallway full of boxes

It is Fathers’ Day, 2024. Ali has decided this is the day she will leave our house. We have lived here for 9 years and before that in our previous home for nearly 20 years. When you look at the accretion of STUFF in a house after that amount of time, moving is a daunting notion.

Over the preceding week Ali had slowly started to fill boxes with things she wanted to take with her. It was surprisingly little. In the 9 years we had lived in the house, Ali and I slept in separate rooms. I snore and Ali wakes at the slightest noise. She also has insomnia. I had become an impediment to her getting a good night’s sleep. Two years prior on holiday in Vienna Ali had lost it with me, exhausted from another night unable to sleep next to me in a hotel bed. I had not fought to get her back into my bed, I didn’t care.

I was, by this time, on my 4th sleep study and under the care of the sleep health team at Guys. They had concluded I didn’t have sleep apnoea. I had tried mouth guards, CPAP, medication. Ali seemed oblivious of all the things I had done and was doing to improve things. She just wanted to shout at me about it. Angry. I looked at flights to get myself home but we managed to not get to that point. But for me, that was the moment I knew it was over.

We struggled on and even tried another holiday the following year. A screaming match after an evening that went wrong left me in no doubt. Last year Ali tried to book a holiday away and I refused to go with her. She took our first child. It should have been a red flag for her but she was so desperate to get away for a holiday.

The week leading up to Fathers’ Day seemed to pass in a haze. I didn’t really know why she was in such a hurry to leave our home – a sudden demolition of the edifice of our life together. Shouldn’t we take a little more time to dismantle it?

The day comes and I am in and out of the house. I come back and the hallway is full of boxes. I never see Ali but the boxes appear, slowly amassing.

The way things end never feels congruent. We’re not sure what it was supposed to be like but it wasn’t like this…. That feeling persists throughout the day. Surely, after 35 years together it can’t be this easy to just walk out.

Slowly the day slips away. A visit to the shops and I come back to an empty hallway. She has gone. For good. I didn’t see him, but I learn that the Headmaster (and guitarist in her band) has helped her move out. I had guessed he liked her and was not surprised by the early ‘move’. Maybe his limerence avatar is the damsel in distress too.

I go to Ali’s room and it looks like a vacated rental room – empty cupboards, drawers. I’m overcome by the sadness and suddenness of it. It’s not supposed to be like this…

I go to my office and sit to write some of my messages to nowhere. It is Father’s Day. Neither child has said anything to me. It is also the day after Kate has dumped me via txt. I call my first child. She is still stinging from the breakup. Her opening line is: I can’t be everyone’s emotional support. Suddenly, I’m not sure that anyone really wants me anymore. It’s not supposed to be like this…

I cry and call Signal. She is worried enough to insist on coming over to see me even though its 7pm on a Sunday evening. I don’t think I’ve ever been this low and slipping away feels like a reasonable solution for the first time. Eventually, my son comes home. I sense his girlfriend has given him a hard time about Fathers’ Day. He makes an effort. Signal leaves and I watch the TV alone. Nothing’s changed yet everything has: it’s not supposed to be like this…