did I sign up for this?

There are times when I wonder about whether or not I signed up for the situations that I find myself in. On first glance, it would appear to me that only a mad woman would volunteer for some of the assignments that I have undertaken. As I have stated long and hard for a while now, there does not seem to be anything that I have had to endure that hasn't paid off in the long run. Though I have to admit to a streak of rabid humanity that runs within my fiber, by humanity I mean, acting very human at times. Now I know that I am human and there for prone to all the failings and doubts that being human brings with it. Like being stubborn, wanting what I want when I want it, no matter whether or not it is good for me to have it, being shallow, holding grudges, being fearful at having to face situations for the greater good of myself, family or the world at large. But damn it there are just somethings that I don't want to do. Like having to sit at the same table with my former husband and his wife, my former best friend while celebrating the betrothal of our child at a wedding rehearsal dinner. I know that I am being a baby, that I should suck it up and do it without complaint and I will, but I would like to state out loud that it is with trepidation and angst that I do it. I am also going to be at her wedding with him, but for some reason that doesn't seem to bother me as much, besides I have loving reinforcements and buffers on that day.
May I say that while the recent long messy demise of my dear Doug devastated me, bringing me to my knees with pain more than I thought possible, my divorce from my children's father was a close second. At least Doug died, my ex did not, he stuck around, married my ex best friend and never acknowledged our parting as anything to recover from, he moved on before he moved out. Doug died liking and loving me, fought harder than he might have for the sheer sake of wanting to stay alive to love me more. He stayed until it became impossible for him to stay any longer. Now I am not advocating death to all ex's or even to mine in particular, I am simply wondering why we never sat down, said our goodbyes, and closed that chapter of both of our lives. I wanted to, I have even tried to but it takes two to bury a marriage and apparently he thought it better to leave the corpse out to pick at over the past 22 years. Unfortunately it is me who feels like she is choking on the bones. My children think I should just get over it and move on, which I must say I thought I had. Though what they don't know or get is that I loved that man as only a 16 year old can, as only the mother of his children could, as only a breast cancer survivor thankful that her husband stuck by her through the shit can and finally as only a person who has been brainwashed about their own inadequacy does. The end of that union tore my heart in two, left me sobbing with desperation at the idea of not being able to make him love me enough to do the hard work of figuring out what we could do to stay together. It left me adrift while having two small children to care for when I could barely care for myself because of my grief. I remember when Doug and I were talking about getting married, he was back peddling from fear, fear that he wouldn't be a good husband, that he might hurt me with his lack of relationship savvy. He was making jokes about our impending marriage and I actually fell to my knees in front of him weeping. I told him that my divorce was the absolute most painful thing that I had ever endured, and the fact that I would even consider marrying again after that kind of injury was a testament to the courage that stepping in that river again took from me. I felt that his jokes were disrespectful to my courage and that they trivialized the trauma that I had suffered. He looked deeply into my eyes and said "I didn't know that, I didn't realize how brave you are. I am sorry, I just don't ever want to hurt you and I am scared that I will. I love you and want you by my side for the rest of my life." We both confessed our sins of humanness that day and I was by his side for the rest of his life. Guess what, he hurt me, I hurt him, we were both very human and very stubborn, but the connection of our hearts and souls never wavered even in the most difficult of times.
So in a few weeks I will be sitting in a restaurant with the man who didn't die, who hurt me and never apologized, whom I hurt and never got the chance to tell him that I was sorry. The man with whom I created two of the most precious and cherished people that have ever walked in my world, a man who has no idea who I am and could care less, a man who I loved to distraction for way too many years after he turned on his heel and walked into the arms of another. I have to do this alone, though there will be many people there, it will be me alone who feels what I will feel, regret, sadness, anger at the way he has not stepped up to the plate for our children in the fashion that I would have him do and probably a little good old fashion bitchiness for good measure. Yeah, I am pretty sure that I did not sign up for this particular assignment, I wish that I didn't have to do it but I will and I am sure that sooner or later I will be writing about the deep spiritual lesson that I learned from having to. For right now though, I am going to revel in my puny humanness and have a small internal hissy fit.