Learning My Mistakes--A Tale From the Past.
1982
He’s tall, dark and handsome. A cross between Sam Elliot, the actor and Jack Trippers best friend on Three’s Company. His gazes penetrates me, with a calm sensuality and a twinkle in his eyes. Setting the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. When we go out, he basically sneaking me into clubs, where he often goes on stage to play the blues on his harmonicas. I feel special and lucky. He’s chosen me, declaring his love for me.
Christmas Party
In the stall of a restroom, I’m eavesdropping on three women from his work. Exclaiming how that “sexy Kevin, will party with them. How much fun he is!” I enter the washroom area, they don’t know yet, that I am with him....I’m so lucky--He’s with me. Feeling pride seep thru my blood, filling me up. With love? (The closest thing I’ve ever felt to it)
Valentine’s Day
He lavishes gifts on me. He makes a 5 foot tall cardboard heart, and decorates it, putting my name in the center of it. Dining romantically, to candle light. A Valentine’s Day, made of dreams. He’s been drinking, but I’ve seen him drink before. Something bothers me this time, I can’t put my finger on it though.
Me: Kevin, I need to go to bed now. I have to work in the morning....
Him: (Not looking in my direction) “Good. Go to bed. I need some alone time.”
Me:"What’s wrong?”
Him: Go to bed. Leave me alone. I miss my daughter, and that fucking cunt is hiding her from me!”
Me: C’mon Kevin. You’re drunk, you need some sleep. Come to bed!
Him: “ I said leave me the fuck alone!”
Stunned, I go to bed. Stunned, shocked and frightened.
1:00 AM that night.
Awakened in a stupor, to LOUD music playing. Loud Bob Dylan music playing--his hero.
Me:” KEVIN!!! TURN THAT DOWN!!!”
His harmonica goes into a riff, in time with the music. It’s as if he can’t hear me...Filling me with an eerie adrenaline, that is building up to a rage. There are beer cans littering the apartment floor, one spilled,leaving a darker shade to the fibers, left to sink into the carpet. The odor a mixture of beer, sweat and cigarette smoke stings my nose, letting me know he had chained smoke for hours, drank for hours, and played the harmonica, although it hadn’t been loud enough to wake me before now...My anger builds to
Me: KEVIN!! SHUT THAT FUCKING MUSIC OFF!!!
Hissing at me, with a faraway, unfocused stare to his eyes.
Him: WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??!!
Me: I’M SUPPOSED TO BE THE WOMAN YOU LOVE!!
I’m scared, but my fear has slid into rage. I can’t believe this is the same man, of less then 5 hours ago! I stomp into the livingroom, and slam the music off! Just feeling his big hand wrap around the hair on the back of my head; pulling me up and backward, until I fall. I don’t feel the first few kicks at all. Is this shock?
Him: You stupid slut! Look what you’re making me do!! I’m the best fucking thing that’s happened to you! YOU pushed me to this!!!
I find my voice, and my rage.
Me:"Leave me the hell alone you fucking loser!! It’s a good thing your Ex is keeping you from your daughter you animal!!”
I don’t remember when the back handing and open fisted punches ceased. I would just call them punches...but surely a young woman of 19 couldn’t live thru a full grown healthy mans punches. I’d fall to the ground, to have him lift me back up, for another round. On the ground wasn’t safe either, as the kicks came more furiously then the back handing.
He left the apartment. In his righteous anger. I pushed him over the edge. If only I hadn’t said what I did about his daughter. I cried myself to sleep, musing at the sting of my tears on my cheeks. That’s odd…
The Morning After
The first glimpse in the mirror, set off a new round of tears. One eye swollen purple and black shut. The other threatening to do the same. I can’t go to work like this.
Me: “Sharon, I can’t come to work for a few days. I fell down the apartment stairs, and can hardly move.”
The lies slipped out naturally, easily, without having to think. My bruises are starting to ache, all over me. Red, purple and black splotches, with no pattern are forming on my neck, arms, legs and back..... I don’t recognize me in the mirror.
I slide back under the covers. I can’t face this, I need sleep.
My eyes try to open, not focusing. My nose breathes in the sour smell of old alcohol mixed with sweat, that seeps from his pores. Yep, there he is, his face close to mine, staring at me, tears rolling down his cheeks. He has HIS eyes back, not those evil strangers eyes of the night before. He is seeing me again, he is focusing and looking at me.
Him: “I’m sorry Teri. Oh God! I’m so sorry! I’m worried sick about my daughter. When you said what you did, I snapped. God; you have to forgive me! You’re my world, I need you!”
Me: “LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY FACE!!!” My righteous indignation rising to the surface.
Me: How can you say you love me, and then do this!??!”
Him: I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you! I promise Teri, I love you!”
More tears, more begging. A “man” humbled at my feet. I must be a heartless bitch! I wrap my bruised arms around him, pull him close to me, as he cries in my arms........
Part Two, The Kevin everyone knows and loves.
Sidenote: This is a retelling of my first unholy alliance, with a minion of Satan, otherwise known as Husband Number One.
Close it Up
Being in love brings so many special moments and spontaneous surprises. That perfect first year, learning each other, discovering quirks that are nothing short of adorable. Being surprised at work with a bouquet of flowers. Meeting him at the door in nothing, luxuriating in his delighted response. That first year; The romantic gestures you do almost effortlessly. Buying a dozen red roses, picking all the petals off to decorate his bedroom and sheets after he’s been away for a week. The all night sex marathons, that leave you invigorated instead of exhausted. The first trip away together, the first “I love you”. The first Christmas Tree you decorate together, sharing Birthdays. The effortless romance, so full of adrenaline and euphoria!
It’s a year you want to frame in your heart, keeping it alive as long as you can. Reluctantly letting it go when Year 2 sets in.....
The year of discovery. Those adorable quirks don’t have the all encompassing charm of the first year. The fog from the Euphoria Rush-Year 1 has lifted. The candy-coated history of our past lives (sans each other) is seen in all its abrupt realities. Year 2- The year of realistic perceptions and The Deciding Factor. Can I take this person, flaws and all and love them completely?
For Kevin and I it was a rocky road. Skeletons made their way out of our closets, interrupting and shattering any unrealistic expectations and perceptions. Ugly truths stood naked before us almost stunning us into opposite directions. Most of the time, I don’t like looking back at Year 2. Finding each other in mid-life led to the revelation of an array of ugly skeletons. Some of those ugly skeletons actually wore proper names. Being cynical and hard, on both of our parts, revealed a rather shaky belief in any such thing as “Happily Ever Afters”. Nights that were spent making love in Year-1 are spent verbally beating each other with our pasts. Fighting against, all the while hoping for, an “Us” to work its way thru the fray.
To both our credit, even thru Year-2 we were always able to leave the serious and hard work of fighting for an “us”, to take a break and have some fun. One of the promises we made each other during Fairytale Year (Year-1) was that we would, at the very least, break away from life and go away somewhere to just play, every 3 to 4 months.
After 4 years together, we have kept that promise. I’d like to say it was due to some deep insight into relationships, a commitment to the work of “us.” But if truth be told that would be bullshit. We do have the commitment to “us,” to growing together. But our promise to one another has more to do with the shallow side of “us.”
We love to play. Enjoying breaking out and away from reality, indulging the children in ourselves. Reveling in our shallowness, even if for just a long week-end. Waking up to “Where shall we have breakfast?” as the deepest decision of the day. This to Kevin and I, is the icing on the cake of our relationship.
As we are counting down the last few days and minutes until we retreat from life, I can’t help but think that our shallow sides are just as important as all the brutally honest heart to hearts we make time for. Filling up our proverbial “love bank account” to sustain us until our next getaway. Sunday, Kevin and I are off for 5 nights in Laughlin Nevada, a chance to walk along the Colorado River, gamble a little bit, watch pay per view movies in our rented room. We are going to take a boat ride down the Colorado River to Lake Havisu, to sightsee at the London Bridge, have lunch and just play! All activities done spontaneously at our whims. It is becoming our tradition to get away during my Birthday week, either to Las Vegas or Laughlin. My idea of the perfect Birthday, spent with my soulmate, just playing. I do believe than we have a rather large shallow side to us, that in my mind has become a necessity to marital bliss.
No matter what our problems have been over the years, we have always been able to put them aside to play. I recommend that every couple get away, as often as you can, being as creative as you can, to just play with the love of your heart. These moments away, will sustain you both as the realities of life take their toll on you as a couple. The memories of past excursions, and the anticipation of the next one, takes the edges off of the pressures of bills, jobs, kids and home repair. Making it easier to stay grounded on a firm foundation.
Indulging the shallow side will actually make it damn near impossible for anything to penetrate the bond of your relationship. Rediscovering the pure fun of each other away, nothing beats it in my book. We let no person, place or thing ever come between us and our shallow fun. Try it out, it becomes addictive.
Close it Up
Saying I’m a little self absorbed right now, would be the understatement of the year 2005. Saying I am ricocheting in a myriad of emotions and thoughts would follow close on the heels of the first statement. Since receiving the test results on Wednesday, and finding out I would have to wait for a more precise diagnosis until possibly this Wednesday, was almost as shocking as the test findings! I know I’m not the only one, and that anyone who has had a suspicious cat scan, is lined up waiting for their MRI as well.
I would like to thank everyone for their prayers. I hope by putting words to the feelings I have and am going thru, won’t be seen as a slap in the face, to all those who are praying for me. I apologize if that is the case. I don’t believe any prayer is a wasted prayer. I covet them all. The Grace I claim to have, really isn’t about me at all. But about the Grace given freely from God. I haven’t been able to embrace it, with the optimistic approach my girlfriend Kathy always had. Even in the face of definitive worse case diagnosis. She was one helluva a woman!
By Thursday night, I had been trying to reach my parents for 24 hours. Not being able to reach them via email or by phone, I sent an email to my brother and his wife, letting them know what was going on, and asking them if they knew our parents whereabouts. I received a call from dad Friday morning. There has yet to be a crisis in my life, when I don’t need his morbid humor to make me laugh. Laughter releases tension for me. My father is the one who knows exactly how to go for the jugular of a situation, and turn it into a comedy. His humor was the missing link up to that point. Under the stress and strain of my mixed emotions, I don’t remember his bullet points, but suffice it to say, they were morbid, funny, and had me laughing in hysterics. Boosting my mood considerably for a while.
Later I talked with my mom, who always in crisis, rises to the forefront of calm strength. Having gone thru a life threatening battle with breast cancer, a double mastectomy, and reconstruction surgery, the one thing I knew, is she knew exactly the torment of waiting on tests. She let me spew my doubts,fears, anger and tears. And then prayed with me over the phone. Her calm gave me peace. A prayer warrior from way back, I knew that I would be receiving the required strength to deal, if I accepted it.
This week-end has been difficult on a few different levels. My X’s mom took the kids Friday night, while the X went to Vegas w/his girlfriend. Robby took the kids Saturday night for a “slumber party” at the X’s house, with Cheryl his girlfriend, and Roxanne’s kids Alex and Brooke. I had the week-end to work thru my emotions, before the kids returned to me Sunday morning.
Friday night, Kevin and I did our best to ignore the dark cloud that was hanging over us. Playing pinochle, game after game after game, keeping our brains occupied, and ignoring the pink elephant that sat in the middle of our patio table. We skinny dipped, played more cards, sat in the Jacuzzi, watched some cheesy Lifetime movie that I cant remember at all. All things that usually make up our week-end without kids. All things we luxuriate in normally. When we went to bed, I was sad. Thru the evening, the missing element was my joy. I cried for my missing joy.
I woke up Saturday morning, wallowing in my misery. Ricocheting with morbid thoughts. My mind wrapping itself around life insurance, finances, the thought of not seeing my kids and my husband. Yes, getting way ahead of myself. My motto has always been expect the worst in life, and then you can be pleasantly surprised, and thankful for all the Blessings that come instead. My motto is not helping me at this point. We dived into more pinochle, playing and razzing each other as we always do. Kevin tried to give it our week-end feel. Putting on my favorite country station, keeping my coffee filled, jumping into the pool naked, floating, thanking God for His Blessings, as we looked around our favorite place in all the world. Our own backyard. In the middle of it all, came Tim McGraw’s song, Live like you were dying, and I promptly burst into tears. Melodramatic? Most likely. Real, raw emotions? Definitely. Fear, plain and simple.
I struggled to get a handle on myself thru out Saturday. Doing OK for a few hours, and then having something trigger a thought, that ended in more tears. We tried talking about it finally, trying to see if that would take away the tension and fear that lays beneath the surface. Well I talked about it, while Kevin gave his all to stoic support, the epitome of strength and comfort. Part of me angry that I would have to wait so long, knowing there was no way to pull myself up out of these feelings. Part of me petrified to even know the results. Right now is about “what ifs” Wednesday will be about a definitive diagnosis. (Yes, so much for positive thinking)
Around 6:00 PM Saturday night, my joy returned. Out of no where. I was enjoying myself and my husband with the ease most of our week-ends without kids have. The cloud lifted, and we had a beautiful evening, doing what we do best. Just getting into each other, enjoying our playtime. We stayed up until 2:00 AM, not wanting to let our joy disappear with sleep. I know at that moment, what carried us out of the clouds was prayer. We thanked God for it. We prayed, and lifted up others we know of who are struggling in crisis. Ma, your Charley, your family have not left my prayers since Charley went into the hospital.
Sunday, I had another self-pitying cry, dried my eyes, and dealt the cards. We prepared for back to school, getting the required classroom supplies for the kids. Kevin bar-b-qued, Robby with the rugrats and Brooke and Alex came over to swim, play, visit and eat. Sunday night, I wanted sleep, and was out by 10:00 PM. This morning went off without a hitch. The kids fell back into the morning routine, with an ease. (Thank you God!) 
I need to get ready for the first doctor appt. of the week. I am going back to Dr. Tall, Dark and Handsome today, and want to look my best. (Vanity is thy name Teri) Tayler’s Girl Scout meetings start back up tonight too. So I am back to planning my days out, between kids school schedules and activities, homework, and early dinners. I welcome the busy days ahead, as they won’t allow me much room for wallowing in fear, pity or melodrama. Well, maybe a little melodrama. 
A special thank you to every writer of a weblog that I read. Your words take me to places other then my problems. For that, I am thankful. I wish each of you a good Monday. Easing into the work week as painlessly as is possible! And in the words of my dear daughter Tayler, “Thanks for reading my blog!”
Close it Up
When I checked the messages on the phone, my doctors PA (I assume she was a PA, who knows...) left me a cryptic message. Just 3T could you please give me a call back when you get this message. Thanks, this is Nicole. After having a chest X-Ray yesterday and a CAT Scan on my brain, I figured I better call her back today. Part of me wishes I hadn’t.
When I got her back on the phone, she asked for me to hang on while she got my records.
Nicole: You had a cat scan yesterday?
Me: Yes.
Nicole :(In the tone of voice of ordering a Big Mac) Well they found a few low density spots on your brain,
and aren’t sure if they are tumors or not. The doctor wants to schedule
an MRI so they can get a better look at them.
Me: OK (quite calmly, I’m proud of myself)
Nicole: First I’ll need to get approval from Aetna. Once that is done,
InSight will call you back to schedule it with you.
Me: OK. Thank you. (Again the utter perfection of calm acceptance)
click. That’s it. That cut and dried. No words of comfort,no, “It’s probably nothing.”
No, “lets not worry yet.” Zip. Nada. Nothing. Just cut and dried.
I sat stunned for a good half hour. What can I do? I can’t rush this process along. I cannot get Aetna to approve it in a matter of minutes. I can’t get information about the placement of the “spots” on my brain. I tried going online, to look “things” up. What I saw only put me into more shock. At least what I could actually understand out of all the mumbo jumbo medical terminology. I worked in a hospital pharmacy for a decade, so I have some terminology background. But what I saw only served to let me know how very little I really knew even in this area. So that’s it. I just wait. And pray. And cry.
And my defective brain springs to life with every worst case scenario, where brains, brain tumors and the dreaded word cancer might enter stage right. I say stage right, as that is where most of the pressure and pain comes from, so I am assuming that the spots may be in this general vicinity. But hell if I really know. I really don’t know a damn thing. And this not knowing, is knock the wind out of me scary.
I have spent the day ricocheting from one emotion to the next. Going in 20 different directions all at once. The tears coming and going. Feeling sorry for myself, when I’m not even sure what I’m feeling sorry for myself over. Then hope and a sprinkle of disbelief sets in too. Maybe the test was just defective. And in the end it will be nothing. Just a fluke in machinery that doesn’t always deliver the correct answers.
Imagining my kids going thru the hell of seeing their mother struggle with the dreaded disease. Then more tears. Looking at photos of happy times in my flickr account. Usually always makes me smile, unfortunately not today. Just more tears. Finally deciding this is wearing me out, and popping an ativan and a percocet, wanting to just deaden the emotion right now. And it’s working. No emotion.
I have thanked God for the timing though. My kids are with their dad, living it up at the resort Pointe Southe Mountain. They are laughing and having a good time with their dad, their grandmother, their older brother, his girlfriend and their dads girlfriend Prithy and her daughter Jade.Surrounded by family and loved ones, happy. I thank God they haven’t seen the look of fear in my eyes, the conflicting emotions, the overwhelming sadness, frustration and anger. Over something I don’t even know. I don’t know anything. Just “a couple of low density spots, that may be tumors.”
I have given myself my own advice. What I would say to a loved one wracked in fear of not knowing. “We just need to wait 3T. Don’t jump to conclusions girlfriend. Let’s keep a positive attitude 3T. Mind over matter.” Except it is my mind that may be afflicted. I believe in the power of prayer and a healing God. I do. But this does nothing to ease my fears, or my tears. I know I can’t do this of my own accord. It’s just not in me.
But I know how it can be. I know the power of prayer. I know I need the prayers of believers. To give me the strength, the positive attitude.The will to see the good in today. Cuz basically I’m not seeing the good in today. Not in my own flesh can I calmly face today, or tomorrow. Or another human being as I sink further into my own self absorbed fear.
I’m not answering the phones, unsure of my ability to not break down like a child running to mommy holding back the tears until she sees her face. Fear of the unknown, is never more poignant, then waiting for an insurance approval for a test, that may relieve your mind, or set you on a course none of us want to be on. So there it is. My need for prayer is real. My future unknown.
I know it was unknown prior to today. It just seems blatantly unknown today. So here I am in my glory, melodrama and all. I just wish it was a stage and that the play was over, giving way to a kick ass cast party. That the CAT scan was nothing more then a prop in my play. LOL. OK, maybe the percocet has me a little too far out in left field.
I end this with my request. Please pray for me. I want a mistaken machine, a glitch in the system. I want a healing. I want this day to not have happened. I apologize for this strange post. I’m in a strange place.
I covet your prayers right now. I thank those who have read this strange post all the way to the end. I’m just in a strange place.
Close it Up
The kids called me last night as soon as they got in from Vegas, to let me know they had a good time. They sounded tired, and appropriately told me they missed me. Well Tayler did, Riley said a very unenthusiastic,” Yeah, I missed ya.” Little boys. gotta love em! Having these days on my own, with the kids gone, I missed the noise and chaos. And I cannot believe I just wrote that! What a double edged sword parenting can be. One minute missing them, the next saying I need a break.They are part of me regardless.
Every so often I like to put one of the hubby’s letters to me in here. He has written me a letter/email every work day since we started dating. I cherish his words, and look forward to his letter with as much enthusiasm as I did when we were dating. His letters represent a way of touching base, a little deeper, then the day to day small talk that may ensue at the end of a hectic work/school day, and all it entails getting ready for the following day.
The one I’m sticking in here today is for my children, from their step dad. To be discovered by them hopefully years from now! I don’t know if it’s a sign of ageing, when your mortality comes to the forefront of your thoughts. Logically I guess it would. To younger people, I’m sure it is seen as morbid an unnecessary. But to my hubby and I, it’s just part of life. We talk morbidly about our demise, most of the time in a joking manner, but not always.
Then again, this past year, we have dealt with death on both sides of our family. My husband losing his father this past March, and then my cousins wife Kathy (my friend) passing away after a long battle with cancer. So it’s very much a reality in both our lives.
What I’ve learned about death and dying probably would be seen as taking the negative and running with it. I don’t see it that way though. I have spent a good deal of my life, afraid of every shadow, fearful of every possible disease, or accident that could possibly happen. A “do this, or this will happen, don’t do this, or you’ll get this” mentality. Fearful, plain and simple. What purpose has living with this served?
When Kathy died, a woman whom I respected a great deal, she died living my fears. Death by cancer is painful. There is no way around it. Being privy to some of her pain, and her struggle, I couldn’t help but feel guilty, and outraged. Guilty, because I have not lived my life as the precious gift it is, outraged because Kathy did. She embraced life with a positive outlook, and what I would call the mundane, she enjoyed. Dedicated to her family and home, and enjoying most every minute of it. She rarely (if ever) over drank, never partied to the wee hours of the morning, and never smoked a day in her life. And she died no different then the life long smoker, struggling for air, hooked to an oxygen tank, taking 10 minutes to walk across a room.
I’m not advocating smoking by any means. It’s a dirty rotten nasty habit, that if given the opportunity, in my opinion should be outlawed in all public places. And I’m a smoker. A smoker who has beat herself to a bloody pulp every time I failed at quitting. Reliving the fears of my inevitable painful death, if I don’t manage to quit in time.I have let the failure steal my joy, feel me with guilt, shame, and sadness. I hope and pray I get up the gumption to one day lay it down for good. But I haven’t yet.
What I am saying is I will not continue to take my personal failures any further, then “next time.” I may or may not make it. But I’m not going to let it continue to make me feel less than, because I didn’t manage to quit. Possibly I may never manage, and that’s the breaks. Quitting will not necessarily ensure that I won’t die a painful death. Life is not fair. Bad things happen to wonderful people all the time. It may very well up my risks of living this type of death, but I choose to not let it steal today, fretting over the inevitable.
Judas Priest, but I have gotten morbid! And off topic. But then again, that’s the beauty of blogging:-) This is my conscious stream of thought. And all for presenting the letter my husband wrote to his step kids!
When Kevin and I were dating, when we first met, I was still living under the same roof as the X. I hadn’t found a job yet, and finances made it impossible to make the clean break that would have been better for all of us. I was dating Kevin before the divorce, before the X moved out of our house. (Although we were not sharing a room) I had the kids in counseling at this time, to work thru their emotions and thoughts, as far as their mom and dad divorcing went. It was a hard and dark time. Made more confusing for the kids, as I had wrongly started dating prior to the divorce. I wish it had been different, but it is what it was.
Basically I have a wonderful relationship with my kids, although we have not, nor do I think we ever will deal with the issue of Kevin entering our lives when he did. Part of me has chosen up to this point to conveniently forget this part of history. With God’s grace we have made it work successfully, providing a consistent and stable home life for the kids when they are with us.
I do know however, that as my kids become adult children, they will take my “mistakes” and analyze them like a bug under a microscope. What will cause me to flinch, they will dissect, and lay out for possibly their spouse, or even come to me with it, and it won’t be easy for me to look at. I may chose not to, as unfair as that is. And it will be their hurt, or bitterness to work thru. A rite of passage I think all adult children may hit at one time or another in their lives. I’m not trying to be stoic, or a martyr, or even a jaded parent. The emotions behind these words are real, painful and embarrassing.
I haven’t tried to present myself to my children, as all knowing and incapable of making mistakes. On the contrary, I have admitted some of my mistakes freely, and sought their forgiveness. But with truth being told, certainly not on everything. Some things I’m not ready to acknowledge, and may never be. Apologizing for dating prior to the divorce being one of them. How can I apologize for something I see as one of the most wonderful things to happen to me in my life. Meeting my husband, loving him, making a life together. Yes I have a hard time honestly acknowledging that as wrong at this stage of the game. Even knowing the confusion it probably caused my children. In the end, it will be theirs to work thru.
I’m sure the hubby had no idea the emotions, and thoughts, his letter to my kids, would invoke in me. He hit on a few areas, that conjured up embarrassment, guilt, sadness, rebellion and love. But in the end, the picture I hope my children will have of me as adult children is one of a loving, compassionate, caring and yes flawed mother. Who didn’t always act out of selfless love, but loved them deeply none the less. That will be their choice to make.
a letter to be passed on
Dear Robby, Riley, and Tayler:
Strange things happen to your mind when you wake up too early, and today
the strange thing that occurred to me was this letter. I’m writing it now,
in the hopes your mom will leave it for you long after both of us have
passed on. Morbid as it might sound, it really isn’t. I’m thinking here of
the movie The Bridges of Madison County, where a woman’s children,
as adults, learn about their mother’s love affair with another man and how
she forsook that love to care for her ailing husband.
This letter won’t be so dramatic, but it will nonetheless be very pointed:
I wanted to tell you about your mom and me. Yes, we did meet while she was
still living with your father, but she already had every intention of
dissolving that marriage. When we met online, we were both more than a
little savaged from our pasts, suffering from wounds both of our making and
those not of our making. In fact, we were both such damaged, cynical souls
(me far more than her) that the odds were against anything happening
between us that amounted to anything more than an affair.
But, as you well know, it did become more. Yes, it was threatened by some
of my actions during our courtship and my penchant for secrecy, but we got
through it--not easily, but I think we’re through it.
And even during these rough patches, I think your mother’s love for me
never changed. My love for her only grew.
You may look back on your childhood and remember many things about your
mom, some of them probably either painful or not very good. But I also hope
you remember all the good things about her too. She really has been a good
mother, maybe not like the moms you knew who doted over their kids every
minute to the point where they almost seemed suffocating. Nevertheless, she
loved you and cared for you deeply.
Obviously, her health dragged her down, but she also knew when she married
me that she was marrying someone who would accept you three as his own, and
yet respect your father’s standing in your lives.
True, sometimes, maybe many times, the interaction between your mom and me
seemed to be taking away her time from you. But in truth, I hope that one
day each of you has a marriage where your kids are special in your hearts,
but not a substitute for the fun and love you get from your mate. Your mom
and I have a good time together. We are more than husband and wife, but
also best friends, soul mates, playmates. We love to laugh and talk—two
things that helped bring us together in the first place. And yes, I guess
we both have to plead to selfishness in that respect, because we so enjoy
each other’s company that we haven’t paid as much attention as you would
have liked--and that’s especially so for you, Riley, and you, Tayler, since
you will have spent so many more years than Robby with us.
As I write this, both your mom and I look forward to at least 20 years of
life together. We often joke, noting that between my age and her health,
we’ll be lucky if we hit half that goal before God calls us. I’m hopeful
and prayerful it will be at least 20, and I am sorry we didn’t find each
other earlier.
And when you discover this letter, hopefully long after your mom and I are
gone, I want you to just remember this: I love your mom deeply. Because of
her, I changed a lot after living more than three decades as mainly a
pretty self-centered and deceitful person where women were concerned. The
thought of losing her helped drive that change, but fear was not the
overriding factor: I just always want to do right by your mom.
So know I did my best to protect her from life’s bumps and society’s ills.
And that every work day I would write her a letter like this that ended by
telling my bride:
I love you
with all my heart
Close it Up
