There are funerals for people. Even for animals. How do we bury our love?
Memorial Service for a Marriage
We’d been married ten years.
It was the second time for both of us. We came to this marriage with three children each, and important lessons from the first time around. We thought this would be our journey into old age and beyond.
We were wrong.
It became clear at around the ten year mark. We were over-watered with unsaid words, and there was no drainage under our feet. Root rot had set in. Once it took hold, there was no treatment for it.
Our couples therapist knew us both well from long ago. She turned to him at the end of our first session and said, “Are you done with this marriage?”
Long pause. “Yes.”
And just like that, we were done.
All that remained were the legalities, the details, telling our respective children, sorting out who belonged to what. And every decision had a way of illuminating what had been wrong all along. This process was a little like checking the tiny, upside down print at the back of the magazine, when you can’t complete the crossword puzzle. You have all the answers now, but it doesn’t matter because you didn’t find them on your own.
One thing set us apart. We decided to do this consciously, in a way that was filled with grace. It was hard and it rubbed us in all the places that hurt, but we did it. We created our Release Ceremony.
The act of creating this ceremony, difficult as it was, made space for our grief, paved the way ahead with dignity, and invited our friends to witness it and stay friends with both of us. We treated it with all the respect that any other life changing ceremony receives. We have funerals for people who die. Even for animals who die. Where is the funeral for a marriage that has died? That’s in the realm of what we wanted to create.
We decided how we wanted it to look, who we wanted to speak or perform there. We designed and sent invitations. We wrote our joint and individual statements that would be read there. It was held at a stunning hall on Whidbey Island where we lived.
In the weeks before this event, we worried about some of our friends whose marriages were shaky. We hoped it wouldn’t somehow give rise to the final rupture for any of them. We learned later that it did the opposite — it gave them a sense of renewal and recommitment.
When the day finally came, here’s how it unfolded.
RELEASE CEREMONY
My best friend and his best friend (the woman and man of honor) stood at our sides. We had also chosen both male and female elders, authors Larry Daloz and Christina Baldwin, who were also dear friends. They helped hold the energy of the ritual.
Physically, we wanted every bit as much beauty here as at our wedding ten years before. There were flowers. There was a reception afterward. We tried to attend to every detail. It was elegant and somber and full of grace. The central candle that we’d lit from our individual candles at our wedding was shining on the altar as people came in to take their seats.
We have funerals for people who die. Even for animals who die. Where is the funeral for a marriage that has died?
Female elder speaks:
Christina spoke about the importance of authenticity, and the courage it takes to admit when something has reached its end. She invited everyone present to listen from their own lives.
We recite “The Pickaxe.”
Then my husband and I alternated as we read lines from the magnificent Rumi poem “The Pickaxe.”
Male elder speaks.
Larry spoke about the community’s crucial place in this event, the importance of every living being present in keeping the fabric of all our connections strong and whole.
Song: “We’re All In the Boat.”
Tom Walker, also a friend and fantastic singer/songwriter in our community sang his offering, “We’re All in the Boat.” Wish like hell I had a recording of this song, as it’s a beautiful expression of the truth that what happens to anyone in the community, it happens to everyone.
We recite our Release Vows to each other.
Me:
“I have loved you and felt your love,
I have laughed with you,
And I have learned from you.
Our union has been deep and full of blessing.”
Him:
“I have loved you and felt your love,
I have laughed with you,
And I have learned from you.
Our union has been deep and full of blessing.
Forgive me for the ways in which I used you to avoid facing myself,
For the times I did not tell you my truth,
and for the times I did not meet you where you most needed to be met.”
Me:
“Forgive me for the ways in which I used you to avoid facing myself,
for the times I did not tell you my truth,
and for the times I did not meet you where you most needed to be met.”
The removal of the rings.
(He offers me his left hand. Together we remove his ring, and I put it in his palm. I continue…)
“Let this ring no longer bind you,
but remind you of everything beautiful and real
that passed between us in our marriage.
With my whole heart, I release you to the ongoing blessing of your life.
You are no longer my husband. I am no longer your wife.”
(I offer him my left hand. Together we remove my ring, and he puts it in my palm.)
Him:
“Let this ring no longer bind you,
But remind you of everything beautiful and real
That passed between us in our marriage.
With my whole heart, I release you to the ongoing blessing of your life
You are no longer my wife. I am no longer your husband.”
The Blessing
Him and me together:
“I bless your continuing. May you flourish in spirit, mind, heart and body. May you, and may all beings, be well and happy.”
Christina tings the cymbals, to mark the moment.
We recite our Circle Poem, and blow out the central candle.
He and I each light our own candles first, off of the central candle. Then we give the lit candles to our Man and Woman of Honor respectively, so they can hold them while we recite the Circle Poem we’d written together years before:
Him:
“Today again the Earth completes a circle
whose ends do not touch.”
Me:
“But I touch the ends to my beginnings
and begin another circle.”
Him:
“In the turnings of my spiral life
I am a wheel in a wheel in a wheel.”
Me:
“Through darkness and through light I spin
and weave an endless song of praise.”
Him:
“Alive on the breath of my breath,
the breath of my moons,
the breath of my seasons,”
Me:
“In the center of the lung of God I breathe,
And I am exhaled into my birth,
and inhaled into my death
Today again the Earth completes a circle
whose ends do not touch.”
Him:
“But I touch the ends to my beginnings
and begin another circle.”
In our last act as a unit, he and I together blow out the central candle.
He and I process out of the hall.
Music starts. (We chose Pat Metheny’s “The Bat, Part II” for our exit.)
He carries his individual candle as his Man of Honor escorts him out on the left side of the gathering and downstairs, where a small group of close friends will join them.
I hole my candle, as my Woman of Honor escorts me out on the right side and downstairs into a separate room, also with small group of close friends.
Guests remain in meditation until the music ends.
Christina and Larry come together to ground the gathering, bring them back ‘home,’ and invite them to partake of the refreshments in the lobby. Then, the elders go respectively to the women’s circle and men’s circle formed in the rooms downstairs, to bring them each to closure.
In this way, we ritualized our divorce. We made it holy, and laid our marriage to rest. We brought it into the community consciously, so that no one would be afraid to speak of it. They had gathered to witness our joining in matrimony ten years before. They gathered now to witness our un-joining. There were surely people who leaned more toward one or the other of us in sympathy; but we wanted to create an environment where the predominant feeling was one of shared grief, shared letting go and shared moving forward.
It was cathartic.
It was beautiful.
And it worked.
May all beings who are paired in love be willing to come apart with respect, dignity and grace, if the time ever comes to do so.
May all beings be happy and free.
May all beings benefit.
Tina Lear is a writer, yoga teacher, and mother of three really interesting humans. She founded the Long Island Dharmata Sangha and is currently navigating the liminal world between her past and her future. Doing her best to be in the present. She lives in Floral Park with her beloved wife and their very small but mighty dog, Ruby.
