It has been a very long time since I have added an essay to
this blog. Writing a blog, for me, is a
product of thought and feeling with a bit of inspiration all rolled up into a
message. As the months have passed, I
have tucked little thoughts away here and there, and with encouragement from
special people, I have decided to roll them into a message.
So what have I been doing since the beginning of 2012, well
I watched our local college basketball team win their second consecutive division
title (Go Skidmore). I celebrated my 51st
birthday at a Buddhist retreat (amazing).
I watched both of my daughters graduate from their perspective institutions
of higher learning, Emmy from Albany Law School and Lizzie from the Crane
School of Music in Potsdam, New York (proud mama). And one other thing, I have been trying to
save my marriage.
After 15 years of togetherness, my husband decided that he
was empty and had nothing left for a marriage or for me. There were lots of words, revealing lots of thoughts,
lots of feelings and lots of ideas, all of which, I was totally unaware of…and oh
yeah, lots of vomit as well (by me, in
the bathroom of course). It was one of the worst birthday presents I have ever
received. Inside I felt like something between
a punch in the gut from Mike Tyson and having the shaman from Indian Jones Temple of Doom rip out my
beating heart.
After the shock, I fought like a determined mother bear
protecting her cub. To me, my marriage was my cub. And I still had a little cub living at
home. My husband was my forever, my
growing old together, the exhale to my inhale.
I had no clue he was so lost
and so far from me. There was no other
woman, no financial problem, no substance abuse, or anything like that; just
his feeling lost and blaming me for it.
It is hard to fail.
Losing this marriage is like a failing to me. The fact that this was my second marriage
further intensified my feeling of failure.
I pride myself on being an observant person and in touch with those close
to me. Losing the man I loved more than
life, forced me to re-evaluate yet once again.
I conclude; I am
imperfect. Don’t get me wrong, I did not
ever believe I was the perfect wife or mother but I did feel I was pretty good in
those roles. This road bomb made me face
the fact that I am imperfect. No matter
how perfect I try to be, I will always be imperfect. I will miss a gesture or statement. I will miss a feeling or emotion. I will miss an attitude or position. No matter how sensitive I try to be I will
miss something. I am imperfect.
I also learned that in a relationship the burden of
communicating comes from all involved; so if in my imperfection I missed
something, the burden of enlightening me comes from the other party. When a feeling or statement, a gesture or
attitude is not acknowledged by one in the partnership, it is the sole
responsibility of the other party to speak up.
I am imperfect.
I also learned that promises don’t always get
fulfilled. For richer or poorer, in
sickness and health are just words that two people say in ignorance hoping that
some way, somehow, that promise gets fulfilled.
I learned that promises are imperfect too because people are
imperfect. The best we can do is to try
every day. Communicate and try.
On the other side of things, I learned that support to get
through tough times comes from unexpected places. Once word got out (after four months of
earnestly fighting like a mama bear), my family came to my rescue; literally
supporting me. Neighbors brought
dinners. Friends telephoned, texted,
emailed and sent cards of encouragement.
Everyone cried with me and their tears flowing along with mine
eventually rinsed away the sorrow.
Today, many months later, I still have pain. I still cry on occasion. But I do not feel like a failure. It takes two people to make things work. If both parties are not pulling in the same
direction the rope snaps.
I am glad I am imperfect.
Without realizing my short-falls, I have no way to learn and grow and
get better, do better and be better.
I still struggle with promises and whether they can be
kept.
I still feel love in my heart. I still reach out to people. I still smile when I see “growing old” walking
down the street hand-in-hand. And, I
feel better inside. It helps me know I
am alive.
I have raised four amazing kids, three of whom are making
their way into the world with no illusions of life. They have lived through Ben’s cancer and now
two divorces. They watch me pick myself up
and move on. I apologize to them for my
failures and they respond, “You are the strongest person we know.” I hope they will internalize courage and perseverance
through my example.
I am very blessed.
When I get to my last day, I want to say, “I loved. I tried.
I leave this place more enlightened.”
The road from day one to the last day is wrought with adversity and
trials but it also brings lessons and growth…blessings and sometimes pain.
To quote my favorite poet, Robert Frost, “and I have miles
to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep.” I mantra each day and move forward.
Imperfect as I am, I commit to the next step. I breathe in and out. And I love.
Donna
