Today would have been my sixteenth wedding anniversary with My X. We divorced four years ago, almost to the day. We were what the therapists would call enmeshed and co-dependent. We were what I would call a cliche: married too young and too fast, because that’s what we were supposed to do.
I remember thinking on our first wedding anniversary “I’m going to give it one more year.” And on our second anniversary, “I’m going to give it one more year.” And suddenly a decade had gone by, and I had become comfortably numb.
Months after our divorce, during what would end up being our last conversation, My X said, “The part of me that’s mad is still mad. And the part of me that’s sad is still sad. But deep down, I know that we never should have been married in the first place.”
Divorce is an ugly and awful journey that eventually leads to BEAUTY and HAPPINESS and LIFE and LOVE at the end of it. But I’d say, even now, that the part of me that’s mad is still a little bit mad, and the part of me that’s sad is still a little bit sad. And deep down, I know for sure that we never should have been married in the first place.
He did always have a brilliant way of boiling things down to their essence.
People ask me a lot if I ever miss him. And the short answer is yes, I do miss him sometimes.
My X was one of the funniest, wittiest people I’ve ever met. And most of the time when I miss him, it’s because of an inside joke that only he would understand. Like when Walgreen’s launches a new Wal-brand generic medication. Or when my family starts a new “kick.”
He taught me to love dogs, to appreciate beautiful cars and to always buy great seats at a concert. He taught me that a well done steak and a perfectly cooked steak were not mutually exclusive. He introduced me to the incredible beauty of southern Utah, the cult of Steve Jobs, and independent films. He taught me about critical thought and asking the next question. We left our religion together.
To My X: I really and truly mean it when I say that I am sorry for my half of it. And I really and truly mean it when I say that I hope that you are happy.
To the girl in this picture: So far in my life, you are my greatest loss. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, to let you be yourself, and to love you. And I do love you.
And I know it took a long time, but we’re at the right place now. And it’s better than I ever even imagined.