Why I Still Miss My Ex After Divorce (And why that's okay)

When I look back, those years weren’t just a chapter — they were a turning point. Some of my most vivid memories live there, tucked between friendships, and the kind of freedom you only experience once.

Daniele and the Summer of the Roti Incident

Back then, one of my closest friends was Daniele. We were inseparable — the kind of friends who moved through life in tandem, without even trying. One summer afternoon, on one of the warmest days of the season, we wandered into The Caribbean Curry House with two other girlfriends for chicken rotis. They were famous for being the best in town, and that day was no exception.

We ate, we laughed, we went home. The next day, we met up again — as usual — and ended up at a Chinese restaurant across town. Her father picked us up afterward and dropped me off.

The following morning, everything fell apart.

I woke up with the worst stomachache imaginable — the kind that hits from every direction. My mother, with her tried‑and‑true remedies from back home, nursed me through it. Later, I learned Daniele was just as sick. Her father, convinced the Chinese restaurant had poisoned us, called them and let them have it.

Only days later did we discover the truth: it wasn’t the Chinese food at all. It was the curry from the day before — left out on the counter too long, turning in the heat. The infamous rotis had betrayed us and the two other girls who ate with us.

A Call From the Past

Life moved on, as it does. Danielle eventually moved to Washington, then to Florida. She built a beautiful family — two daughters and a husband I had never met.

Then one day, she called with heartbreaking news: her father had passed away.

She returned home for the funeral, and I decided to go without my children.

Walking into that room was like stepping into a time capsule. I saw Daniele, her mother — who somehow looked exactly the same — and finally met her husband.

I sat at a round table with people I hadn’t spoken to in nearly 30 years. As we caught up, I learned things about old friends that shocked me. Unfortunately, not all of it was good.

But the real shock came later.

The Person I Wanted to Call

The drive home was quiet in the way that only grief can make things quiet. Not peaceful — just still. The kind of still where your thoughts get very loud.

I kept replaying the evening. The faces I hadn’t seen in decades. The stories I hadn’t expected. The ones that made me laugh and the ones that genuinely shocked me. There was so much to process and no obvious place to put any of it.

And then it hit me — that quiet, unmistakable pull toward one specific person.

Not a friend. Not my sister. Not anyone I could easily call.

Him.

My ex-husband.

Because he was there for all of it. The friendships, the inside jokes, the history. He didn’t just know the names — he knew the context. The texture of those years. The way things felt before life got complicated. I wouldn’t have had to explain a single thing. He would have just understood.

That realisation sat with me the whole drive home. Heavy and soft at the same time.

Not regret. Not longing for what we had. Just the quiet ache of missing someone who still holds pieces of your story — even when they’re no longer part of your life.

The Complicated Truth About Divorce

Divorcing someone after 24 or 25 years is not a clean break, no matter how necessary it may be. You can end a marriage, but you can’t erase the history. You can’t erase the way someone knows you — the way they can look at you and understand what you’re thinking before you say a word.

Do I regret the divorce? No. Not for a moment.

But part of the journey — the messy, complicated, human part — is acknowledging that there are moments when I miss him. Moments when I wish I could pick up the phone and say, “You won’t believe what I just heard.”

It’s strange how life works. How grief can pull old threads loose. How memory can soften what once felt sharp. How someone who is no longer in your life can still hold pieces of your story.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe that’s just what it means to have lived, loved, lost, and grown.

Your turn:

Have you ever had a moment like this — where grief or memory pulled you back to your ex, not because you wanted the marriage back, but because they were simply the only one who would understand? I’d love to know I’m not alone in this one. Share in the comments below.