the echoes of New Years' past

Ten years ago, tonight, just after midnight, I asked my first wife for a divorce. Despite my motives, methods and meanings, many people, some of whom I treasure, were injured by my actions, and that is to my regret.

This evening my daughter, Peri, who was just married in September, called to tell me that for the past ten years, she has not had a nice New Years. Every year the echoes of that night have brought pain and anxiety. If I had the power to undo this, I would, for my daughter is perhaps the most precious person in the world to me. That this is only the second phone call I have received from her in years, just to remind me of my actions, and the pain she took from that, speaks volumes at how deep the scars must run.

I suppose that, over the last decade, much of my life has been driven by the notion of penance, of forgiveness for my sins. I'm not a killer or a child molester or a thief. Most people who know anything of me consider me an extraordinarily ethical man. I am just a man who bungled badly in his efforts to resolve a marriage that had descended into pain and isolation.

And every time I think I have put some of the sanity back into my life, reminders emerge of my failures.

Happy Effing New Years, eh?