I can't sleep. Today, March 1st, 2016, is my 30th wedding anniversary. Does the clock keep ticking on that even though we are separated? 2 years, 2 months, and 17 days. That's how long we have been separated. I have been actively trying to divorce him now for 8 months. He has not been cooperative, and accuses me of trying to hold him hostage for the rest of his life via alimony payments. It sucks when consequences catch up to you. This is why some men just kill their wives and avoid the unpleasantness altogether.
Small blessings.
I have many times wished I had ended the marriage after our second child was born. That would leave me with both my precious girls and hopefully a lot less pain for all of us. Hind sight, as they say. But what else would I, We, have missed?
There is a song that popped into my head unexpectedly a few days ago as I awoke, and has stuck around to torture me ever since. Even my old standby cure of singing Ice, Ice Baby (by Vanilla Ice) hasn't worked to erase it from my mind.
Last week, it was my parents' 50th anniversary.
I won't ever have one of those.
I made it through a week of going through 50+ years of old photographs and memories to put together a collage and share moments at the family dinner I organized for them.
It was the first time I had braved the photo chest since the separation. My lifetime of photos had sat forbodingly in the brown wooden chest that protects them, daring me to expose my raw feelings and sort through our life. I had unashamedly refused to dive in. But now I had no choice. You can't have a 50th wedding anniversary celebration without a visual trip down memory lane.
Along the way, among all of the photos that I found of happier times and my husband before he turned to the dark side, were of course my own wedding photos,
and our first dance.
You might think it is THAT song, (You're my) Inspiration, by Chicago,
from our first dance that won't leave me.
But that isn't it.
For a while this past week, the song that wouldn't leave me was Garth Brook's The Dance. It had me reflecting on all of the moments that I am grateful to have had and wouldn't change for the world. Especially our daughters and happy family times together. Difficult to get past that in one piece, but I did. I even enjoyed revisiting those times, and reminded my girls about them as well. Lest they think it was always terrible. I have photographic evidence that we were all one big fucking happy family at one time.
But I digress.
The song, which I had completely forgotten about, was one that was popular at the time we got engaged on March 1st, 1985. It was playing on the radio as we sat in his car in an underground parking lot getting ready to leave from...I don’t remember. Perhaps he picked me up after work or we had gone to a movie.
Anyway, this song came on the radio, by Anne Murray, a beloved Canadian singer. (I still have the cassette tape of her childrens' songs that my mom and dad gave to me as a kid.)
She was singing Could I Have This Dance.
A song about spending the rest of your life with someone. So it was playing on the radio, and I started singing along, directing it at my then boyfriend. It turned into a proposal of sorts, and he, and I, said yes. A few weeks later, he surprised me at work with an engagement ring, and officially proposed to me at work.
The rest was history.
So now out of the blue, this song won't leave me.
And, thank heavens, neither will the moments and memories that I remain grateful for.
Yes, I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to have missed all the moments along the way that I would have died for.
I wouldn't have missed this dance for the world.
My Dad and I
