She had been in Dubai for 10 days on business when she put her key in the door in the middle of the day that first Thursday in May, so thrilled to be home.
Something was different immediately. She couldn’t place it.
The first thing she saw was a note on the kitchen table. For some reason, even from 20 paces, she knew it was not going to be just a shopping list or a little nothing note.
The note said-
Jane; I have 20 good years left and I don't want to spend them with you. Jack
The breath was sucked out of her the way it seemed to be when she was hit in the stomach with a medicine ball in grade 5.
She walked dumbfounded around the house and saw that all of Jack’s belongings had been removed. There were empty hangers in the closet, dangling there, still moving like he had just pulled everything out moments ago. Funny, she thought, in all the years we have been married we have always been short of hangers. Now look at them.
Something made her run to check the bathroom. If a man’s razor is gone then he is gone for sure. His razor was nowhere to be found.
She sat on the couch until the sun set several hours later. She did not blink until her eyes stung with dryness. Eventually, there was banging on the door. A neighbour , who had been calling all her numbers for a few hours, stood there with a quizzical look on her face and Jane’s three school age children in tow.
And so began a chapter of her life for which no one or no thing had ever prepared her.
The length of your recovery is determined by the extent of your injury.
Although on the surface this is a bit of a medical/ physical determination, I apply it to divorce or any life trauma. If you are the one who leaves, you have been “preparing” for it for years. If you are “left” and you did not see it coming, the clock reads 00:01. And your journey begins in that moment.
my family is not broken 
stuff you said