[ WP ] Break my heart with only a divorce scenario .

I sat there staring at the papers for hours. I knew what they were, of course -- divorce papers generally arent very ambiguous -- but no matter how long I stared at them, flipped through them, turned the crisp folder containing them over in my hands, over and over and over, I just couldnt make sense of them. 
 
 Sure, things hadnt been going all that well since the miscarriage. It was a tough situation for anyone, and it hit her worse than me, but somehow I guess I thought she was stronger than it. Thought that *we* were stronger than it. Things were finally getting better... werent they? 
 
 Despite my disbelief in the papers existence, I never doubted id sign them once their reality sank in. Of course I would. She wasnt happy. The presence of the papers was evidence of that much. And, well, when you love someone, truly love them, more even than you love yourself, your own suffering doesnt enter into the equation. It would be silly to say id walk through fire for her-after all, I really did it. That was how wed met back then, when I was still with the volunteer fire department. When we were safe and I put her down I got my first real look at her. Even covered in soot and sweat and smelling like burnt hair and overcooked meat she was so beautiful I could barely force two words out past the lump in my throat. Somehow I managed to stammer my way into our first date, but I couldnt tell you how... Man, that first summer was amazing. 
 
 I shook my head. I needed to clear my thoughts, so I went for a walk. I wasnt headed anywhere in particular, but I knew where id end up: the cemetary where my unborn son was buried. Thats where all my wanderings lead lately. It was a new kind of grave for me, one where I never knew what to say. When a friend dies, or a parent, or maybe even just a coworker, its different. You knew them, knew their passions and their personalities, knew what cause they carried a flag for, what knowledge they sought. But this... my son... I would never know him, nor know what he might have been. I didnt know how to talk to him and it killed me. 
 
 I looked down at the little heartshaped grave with the cupids dancing all around. In precious memory of Adam Brown, it said. Only one date was listed. I stared at that date for a while. Maybe id get a tattoo. People did that, right? It seemed like a sensible reason for a tattoo, anyway. Maybe id get one on the back of my hand, so id never forget. I looked at my hand and was surprised to notice it still held the divorce papers in a white-knuckled grip that crinkled the folder. 
 
 I numbly turned the manilla folder over. again. Was it some kind of cruel joke? Or was it an accident of fate? Maybe, in her own way she was trying to make things better. It wasnt working. I sighed heavily, drawing a deep breath of the despair that seemed to linger over that graveyard. Or maybe it just followed me there. I couldnt tell. I took a pen out of my pocket and signed the papers. I set them down on the grave next to Adams and walked away. Maybe we could have worked things out. I guess now ill never know.
