I guess it's never really just a visit

I just got back from my old house and a brief visit with my old wife. It’s something that’s awkward, unnatural, even somewhat forced. More then anything it leaves me with a feeling of emptiness.
It’s amazing how such a routine act, such as dropping something off, can carry such an emotional weight. Given what we’ve trudged through I imagine that it will take a long time, if ever, before we can be around each other without having some of the old feelings resurface.
We chatted for maybe 10 minutes. Really nothing, you know. Superficial things like what we’ve been up to and Alex. We can move the conversation away from us and over to Alex because it is much easier. It’s strange because as intimate partners there was nothing that couldn’t be discussed; now there is very little that can enter the conversation. I no longer feel the responsibility or disposition to share my life, goals, and pursuits.
After the pleasantries and “how to do’s” ran their course I thought it best that I leave. I just don’t see any point to lingering. There’s still a part of me that sometimes longs for that old family but those hopeful embers are quickly extinguished by the realization that there is too much pain that I can’t afford to wait or hope for a person who doesn’t truly love or respect me. My greatest joys will be fulfilled through someone else.
I took one last look around my old house; the place I once called “home” and put my heart into maintaining. Now it was just an empty shell…no warm feelings, no welcome sensation. Now I was just a visitor. As I left she thanked me for doing a few helpful things and then she called me “Ryan”. What the hell? I don’t think that she had ever called me that, it was somewhat awkward. I’m now home alone with my thoughts. This whole ordeal has made me more expressive and I want to make sure that I capture moments like this. Why? I don’t really now. Maybe it’s so that I don’t forget what I’ve gone through; maybe it’s to remind me that I have better days ahead.