Tears streamed freely down my face as I watched waves crash on the beach.

My husband put his arms around me. "For what it's worth," he said, "I'm sorry this is happening to us."

So was I. We'd been through so much in our twenty-one years together: the loss of both of our fathers and two dogs, six surgeries for my endometriosis, four failed rounds of fertility treatments, the loss of his job thirteen years prior that had placed all our financial burdens squarely on my shoulders. Despite—or maybe because of—all of these things, I knew my marriage was over.