Anniversaries come in all shapes—some you celebrate with champagne, others you quietly try to forget. I always thought my wedding anniversary would be the one day etched into both our memories forever. Turns out, I was wrong.
When we were married, Mark was never great with dates. Our first anniversary, he showed up with a grocery-store cake and half-wilted flowers, apologizing for “just being busy.” The next year, he forgot entirely, only realizing after I handed him a card over dinner. It became a running joke—me marking the calendar with hearts, him scrambling at the last minute to catch up.
But after the divorce, I discovered there was one date Mark never failed to remember: the day our marriage ended.
The Date He Never Forgot
It started the first year after we signed the papers. I thought I’d feel a quiet ache when our old anniversary rolled around, but the day passed in a blur of work meetings and errands. Then, out of nowhere, Mark texted me on the anniversary of our divorce: “Can you believe it’s been a year?” No apology. No mention of the years we shared. Just a timestamp, like he was reminding me about a doctor’s appointment.
I ignored the message, unsure how to respond. But the following year, he did it again—this time with a “Happy Freedom Day!” gif, as if we were celebrating a mutual escape.
How It Made Me Feel
The first time, I was shocked. The second, hurt. By the third, I started to wonder what it meant that Mark could so easily forget the date we began, but always remembered the day we ended. Was it relief? Was it bitterness? Or was it just another example of the way we’d grown apart—me sentimental, him pragmatic, both of us moving on in different ways?
I wanted to tell him how much those “anniversary” texts stung, how they turned our shared history into a punchline. But instead, I decided to let the old dates go. Our story was finished, but I didn’t need to mark its ending every year.
Finding My Own Milestones
These days, when the calendar rolls around to either date, I don’t reach for the past. Instead, I honor the life I’m building—quiet mornings, new traditions, friendships that make me feel seen. I celebrate the fact that I no longer have to remind someone to love me, or to remember what matters.
What I Learned
Some people keep score with endings. Others move forward by choosing new celebrations. I learned that anniversaries—good or bad—don’t define my worth or my happiness. I get to decide which dates matter now.
Final Thought
If someone remembers your ending more than your beginning, let them. The best milestones are the ones you create for yourself. Your future is waiting—circle that date instead.
