Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I got married at the age of 21. It’s a decision I still regret, and it is probably the worst decision of my life to this point.
He was a cute charmer, and I fell in love fast. We dated six months, got engaged and married within one year.
I knew at the time it was the wrong decision, but it didn't stop me from doing it. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. I thought that’s what all Kansas girls did: go to college, meet a guy, get married. I fit in that mold.
But, we were both young, immature and didn't know who we were as individuals. And, the marriage was a disaster.
We stuck it out for a few years. We got separated. We stayed married for a few more years while we were separated. We’d hang out pretty regularly, and it was still a disaster. We finally pulled the plug, and I finally felt a weight lifted off of me. I could finally breathe again. I could be me.
We emailed a few times and still had some commonalities as friends, but I just remembered the nightmare of a marriage and wanted to keep my distance.
So, we did. I stayed in Florida. He moved to Texas. And, that was it.
I’d hear an occasional update, and while I wanted the best for him, I just didn't want to be involved.
So, when I started filling out an application for a passport and saw the section for marriages, I stopped filling it out. I couldn't remember where he was born, and the darn passport application asks that. Why? Why must you do this to me, pesky passport application?
I just did nothing with it for a long time. Like a really long time. After
So, on Monday, I used my smart friend. And, I found out where he was born: in the form of an obituary.
I was in shock, but I wasn't sad. I mean, I was sad for his family, and it’s sad for anyone to die that young, but I personally did not feel sadness.
I told my boyfriend what I discovered, and he asked what I needed. He wondered if I wanted to talk or needed days off from work. Neither, I said. Why would I need that?
I looked at some old pictures of my ex-husband and I together, and I didn't even recognize myself. I just don’t look happy. And, I still didn't feel sad.
On Tuesday, I still felt the same way. I mean, it’s not like we were in each other’s lives anyway, and I remembered so many bad times from our marriage. Why should I be sad?
Tuesday night, I ran along the downtown St. Petersburg waterfront with some running group friends. I ran the majority by myself because my running buddy, Lori, is injured and just walking for the time being.
I decided that when I made it back to Lori, I’d walk back and talk with her. I made it back to her and another girl, and we walked back in a pack of three.
I decided to tell the story of what had happened with them. I told them about the horrible marriage, and Lori said, “Well, there had to be some good things.”
"Yeah, right," I thought. I said I wasn't sad. And, I was starting to feel like a cold-hearted snake (cue Paula Abdul).
Tuesday night into Wednesday, I was working on a project that I severely under-estimated the time it would take. As I worked into the wee hours of the morning, for a break, I looked into the cabinet near the table I was working and found a photo album (some break).
I found this, and I suddenly remembered the good things (Lori is so wise).
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| Thanks for throwing such a fun wedding, Jay and Linda! This photo from a disposable camera a guest used at the wedding has always been my favorite photo of us. |
And, now I’m sad.
But, I definitely want to see (or remember) the good things in everything.
