The past comes back again

I've been dismarried for over two weeks now (has it really been that long??). He and I had a brief email exchange a few days after it became final, which consisted of me telling him he did not need to pretend to want to talk to me anymore since the divorce was completed. I assumed he was being friendly so I didn't try to exact revenge in the divorce (which made me upset because I had been very gracious, all things considered) and told him he could stop now. He responded that he had talked to me bc he wanted to, not out of concern of being screwed in the divorce.




We have always had a reason to talk. Mutual bills, the details of the divorce, whatever, but now that it's really, finally, gruesomely over, there is no more reasons or excuses to talk.  At his request, I had promised him I would keep informed about any major life events in my family--births, deaths, marriages, divorces, major illnesses, moves out of state or country...things that rarely occur but are highly significant. I'd expect that I'd maybe email no more than once every two or three years, short emails with polite accounts of a major event. People tell me even that is too kind of me, that I should not even tell him that much, and perhaps they are right. But, I loved him for so long and so intensely that it is still difficult for me to be mean to him, no matter how much he may deserve it. And, I cared very deeply for his family and I would want to know if something happened with them. They did not hurt me; my feelings for them have not changed.
So, I assumed that was the end of conversation between us, since there were no more reasons for talking. And even before the end, he had placed restrictions on contact, informing me that I should only email him, no texts. So I had obliged. But, once the end came, I assumed it would be years before we would email again, to tell each other about family events.
Imagine my surprise when I heard from him only 13 days after the end, only 8 days after our last email exchange. In a text. His words came out of the blue, an unexpected shock.
"I was just reading Joe Mauers Wikipedia page.  Remember that 13-inning tiebreaker against the Tigers?  That was an awesome game."
Referring to the 2009 Twins-Tigers game, game 163, to determine the American League Central Division winners. We had managed to get tickets. The entire Metrodome was sold out. It was only 12 innings, but it was an amazing game. We won, after several edge-of-your-seat innings and when we won, Hat (Hat, his name when he was so, so good to me) swept me up into his arms and picked me up off the ground as we both gleefully screamed our excitement along with the crowd. We were giddy with happiness that our team had won, the joy only diehard sports fans can understand. We had been married for only five months, two happy newlyweds, celebrating our team's amazing win, cherishing the thrill of being there, being a part of the moment, having part in that day. A solidly wonderful memory from back when we were happy, when we were new, back when we had our whole lives together.
Back from the dead. Back from the ashes of what once was. The memories are buried, hidden under the wreckage of the last year and a half. I don't think about when there was an "us" because it still hurts too much. It picks the newly formed scab open and the bleeding starts again. So I stuffed them away, got rid of all of them, and refused to let my mind bring them back up.
But there it was. A reminder. A pin prick of memory. I had not thought of what it felt like to be lifted up in his warm embrace in years. I did not want to, but I did when I got that. A complete surprise. A total shock.
So...there's that. That text out of the blue.  One more bizarre piece of the puzzle of my life that included him.