Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Getting divorced is a lot like getting burned. I mean physically burned. Even after the incident is over, the person hurts and can’t really be touched for awhile.

I recently had dinner with a friend who was officially divorced just the week before we met. She had been working her way out of the marriage for a year or so, but the final irrevocable moment when the judge granted her the divorce was a shock. There was no going back and nothing in her future would be the same.

I once worked in a hospital; perhaps that’s why the burn analogy seems particularly appropriate. People with serious burns are never the same. The actual accident may recede from their minds, but the effects remain forever. Slowly their bodies mend, even more slowly do their psyches.

That night at dinner, I tried to touch my friend in many ways. I told her to take each day as it comes, that I’d be glad to talk — or listen — if she needed someone, that her present feelings were normal. I said all the things that are true but that don’t really make it hurt less. If she had been a burn victim and I a nurse, the same situation would have applied. In the end, it’s time that heals. When we parted I wanted to put my arm around my friend, draw her close, and give her a hug. But I held back. My touch would have been too painful.

I was burned once, so I know.