LIFE LESSONS

Why I Stay in Touch With My Former Husband’s Family

That Turkish Connection Heals

Through love, bitter things seem sweet. Through love, bits of copper are made gold.

- Rumi

My blessings are many. And a few days ago I was reminded of this as I began another wondrous journey around the sun.

Every year for the past decade Öznur, my former sister-in-law, has celebrated me with a pre-recorded video of her and the kids singing happy birthday in Turkish (Turkish & English).

This year they switched it up —surprising me via a WhatsApp video call. From İstanbul to Canóvanas, Puerto Rico (where I was on my born day) their precious faces greeted mine.

To say I was thrilled is an understatement because just having them in my life is one of the best gifts.

Tango & Grief

Our shared passion for tango intermingled with Özgür’s mourning the sudden death of his father. It was the fall of 2008; we’d already been acquaintances for two years. But that unexpected tragedy would spark an intense romance.

There’s a palpable melancholy to the music that one immediately attaches to loss. For us Spanish-speaking tangueros, many songs bring the excruciating pain of heartbreak to a different level.

El Adiós — by Ángel Vargas

en la tarde que en sombras se moría buenamente nos dimos el adiós mi tristeza profunda no veías y al marcharte sonreíamos los dos y la desolación, mirándote al partir, quebraba de emoción mi pobre voz y el sueño más feliz, moría en el adiós y el cielo para mí se oscureció

(English version)

on that afternoon dying in the shade we simply said our farewells you didn’t see my profound sadness and as you left, we both smiled and the despair, watching you leave shattered my poor voice with emotion and the happiest dream died in that farewell and for me, the sky darkened

The English version doesn’t begin to capture the depth of sorrow expressed in the original lyrics. Still, one can sense tango’s melancholy.

Combined with mourning the death of a loved one, it’s no surprise Özgür’s vulnerability sowed the seeds of our romance. We wed in early 2009.

Culture Blending

That our fairytale ended less than six years after being married still saddens me a pinch. We’ve been divorced for seven years. But my story has a silver lining: Özgür and his immediate family remain an integral part of my life.

Reflecting on that period, I know there were several factors at play. Before our union, and despite an ocean separating us, his family welcomed me as one of their own.

It didn’t matter to them that I am not Turkish. Öznur was patient in teaching me my first few words in their language: hayır (no — sounds like hire), günaydın (good morning), teşekkürler/sağol (thank you).

We found various similarities between our cultures. Turks are by nature warm, friendly people. They enjoy hosting in their home and sharing delicious food, conversation, music. Close family bonds are very important.

Likewise, Puerto Ricans are an affable people. We love to dance, feed our friends (a lot 😬), and share kindness with strangers. Strong family ties are important to us — even with difficult relatives.

In hindsight, I now understand the impact our customs and traditions played in nurturing a relationship with my former in-laws. It’s a connection that has helped heal me on my journey.

Perhaps it has even allowed Özgür and his family to heal from the hurt of our separation — and the pain I caused them.

Depression & Manipulation

As with many break-ups, there was one who wanted to stay together at all costs. That was me. I suggested we try counseling, and when he refused, I went off the deep end.

I’ll threaten him with suicide…..surely, he’ll change his mind about the divorce.

Fortunately, I only considered this route very briefly; however, even for that short time, I began to understand how broken I was. That in my despair I would be so manipulative as to intend to emotionally harm my ex-husband revealed more than depression.

I needed help.

While the divorce papers were processing, I made a last-ditch effort to save my marriage. In October 2013 Özgür had temporarily left New York City to spend a few months with his family in Turkey. Initially, he stayed in the picturesque southern Mediterranean coastal city, Antalya where his mother Gülhan lives. [Side note: her name roughly translates to Queen of Rose — it fits her perfectly].

In January 2014 I arrived in İstanbul. There was no way he could refuse to see me. What happened instead was not in my game plan: Özgür didn’t come north to me. I spent a week bonding with his sister and the kids, then traveled to İzmir to connect with mutual friends.

To my surprise, the very people I thought I should create distance between were the ones who helped me through the initial denial phase of my divorce.

Past Ghosts

After the divorce was finalized, I kept distance from Özgür. No texts, no calls, no stalking on Facebook. I even slightly curbed my zealousness for tango — at least, I avoided the milongas he frequented. Running into my ex with his new girlfriend (who also danced) was cause for a meltdown.

My sanity required a re-evaluation of old habits.

I learned that changing my perspective about the failed marriage also meant confronting my past mistakes.

The skeletons in my closet clamored to be set free.

Returning to İstanbul was pivotal. I didn’t know that I’d be met with Gülhan’s tough love. Nor could I have known that Öznur’s wisdom would gently cascade over the rocks of my soul. Slowly, a transformation would begin.

Supportive Souls

One night bonding with Öznur, I shared my hurt over her brother’s abandonment. My life would never be the same, I cried. In a composed tone, she remarked:

Canım benim (My dear), you weren’t taught how to love

Her intention was neither to belittle nor blame me. Rather it was an assessment based on years of self-discovery, and recovering from her own toxic marriage. Her point was that I didn’t know what it meant to love — myself or another person.

That night we shared tears, raw emotions, and even a bit of laughter.

A small shift in my mindset began to form.

Another moment that hit me like a brick was during a private conversation with my former mother-in-law. Gülhan came to visit her grandchildren while I was in İstanbul.

Together in Öznur’s living room, we sat across from each other. Without flinching, Gülhan looked into my eyes and told me that my irrational behavior, my unkind words were the reason she returned to Turkey two weeks earlier than anticipated.

Referring to a few years earlier, when Özgür and I were living in Austin, Texas, she had come to spend a month with us. During one of my tirades, I indirectly insulted her, yelling at Özgür that I was the only Queen in our home.

Quietly, I listened to her pain. When she finished, I offered my sincere apology. I didn’t make excuses, and she didn’t pretend that everything was now “fixed.” Her tough love remains one of my most precious life lessons.

The Road

While the divorce is behind me, I’m aware that my journey continues. Have I resolved every tormenting issue that contributed to my failed marriage?

No.

I’d be lying if I pretended otherwise.

But my heart is no longer littered with dark thoughts. And the skeletons rattle less frequently — quieter, even.

Certainly, the fact that Özgür and I had no children made the split less complicated. That we had few assets to divide only reduced financial drama between us. These are not lost on me.

I’m also aware that for others, staying connected to their ex could cause emotional harm. I am grateful that this isn’t my situation. And I know that my divorce was necessary for me to learn self-love. For me, that is the greatest gift.

Lola Rosario is a cultural storyteller raising social consciousness through writing. Follow the beginning of her Medium journey (June 2021) where she recounts her childhood dream of becoming a pilot. Check out her travel blog: https://latrekista.com and her freelance translation/content writing site: https://thirdaccent.com.