No Way Around

The weeks that followed Andrew’s termination from the dance studio felt like navigating through a fog, thick and deep. It prevented us from knowing where we were and confused all sense of direction forward.

Andrew was impacted the most — his job, his community, his mentor, his mission were all gone. But he was not the only one impacted. This was not a normal letting-someone-go event. It was like a divorce that crashed into each of us in different ways.

Our daughter danced at the studio for almost as many years as Andrew did. This closed the door on her dancing there ever again. Classmates, friends, teachers, all separated in a blink.

Kristin was working for the studio at the time, in a behind the scenes role managing the billing. She was planning to stay through the end of the year, to complete the training and transition to her replacement. The divorce cut that short. She turned in her keys and resigned shortly after Andrew was walked out.

I had been friends with the owner’s husband for many years. That was gone in a moment. No more golf, breakfast, random phone calls to catch up. What do I say when I can’t defend my side or lean into the support of a friend? I suspect he doesn’t know the whole truth and I fear sharing it will only cause harm. The silence between us persists, but I don’t want silence to have the last word. Still, after 100 versions of a text to him, I can’t get the words right. I finally send a short goodbye.

In most divorces, at least one party relocates away from the other, sometimes both, to create some physical distance. The reasons why are obvious. With this divorce, we remained neighbors. We helped them find their house in our neighborhood. We’ve enjoyed their parties, their company, their pool. They’ve enjoyed our food and family and celebrations. All of that is gone now. Still, Kristin and I have to walk past their house every time we walk the neighborhood. In a circle-drive neighborhood with one way in and out, there is no way around that doesn’t take us past their place. Each trip another reminder of what was and what is no more.

I imagine they feel the same awkwardness each time they see us or drive past us. But I don’t know because we don’t talk anymore.

The other dynamic that further complicates this divorce is that they are actively participating with us in the land assemblage effort. They have been part of our group since the beginning. Seeing what was possible when many others didn’t. They read every group update email I write. They attend every in person meeting I lead. They ask questions and I answer them, just like I did before. They want this to succeed. I do too. So I serve them, like everyone else. Pretending like nothing has changed. Hoping desperately we can get to a sale and get away.

There is no playbook for things like this. I do not know firsthand what it’s like to walk through a divorce. I’ve never engaged attorneys in matters like this before. I’ve never lost a friend so abruptly, all because of someone else’s choices. The fog is thick and heavy. The questions do not yet have answers. We know simply this: life is requiring us to figure it out.

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Part 2 of the dance saga:

Part 1 of the dance saga: