Tag: marriage

be careful what you wish for

You were a waitress, fresh out of school

Me, a lost soul, living for the moment

You loved me immediately

At least thought you did

You chased me, I rejected you, all part of the game

You were so much younger, what would people say?

You persisted and insisted, that I was the one

You wished for my attention, hoped that I would break

I warned you I was not good for you

My illness and demons would take us down

Remember when I met your mother?

The disapproving look on her face should have said it all

 

A few years passed and your interest had not faded

You were older, I was stagnant, I gave it a shot

We began to date, there was no turning back

You’d loved me so long I couldn’t hurt you

We became a great story, despite all the odds

But hard times would come sooner than later

The fighting began, worse all the time

Bad times outnumbered good,  cracks began to show

Out of nowhere,  you were off to Florida

I would later learn that you went to think

stay with him, or leave him, a decision needed to be made

You chose to stay, the rest is history

21 years of marriage and 4 beautiful kids later

our great story now comes to an end

We were never a good match, I tried to warn you

I couldn’t provide for you, I knew it even then

Years of bitterness and struggles, you could have avoided it all

Sleepless nights, foreclosure and bankruptcy all that remain

If regrets were currency we’d be rich

Tomorrow we go to court to make it official

The story is over, bring in the shovel

When we sign the papers, making it final

Will you be thinking about that trip to Florida?

It’s not your fault

Next time, and I hope that you have one…

Be careful what you wish for

Let me tell you about my children

Are you running yet? That is the typical response when someone talks about their kids.

I was never “that guy” who had a stack of pics to roll out like playing cards if someone asked if I had a family (this is before cell phones and uploaded photos of course). I would be happy to talk about them to someone really interested but I have always believed that people are really not interested, it’s just something to say, like “how are you today? “Trust me they don’t really want to know.

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My children are older now and I don’t have to deal with that anymore. But now I want to talk about them to anyone who will listen.

If this past year has taught me anything, it is that life’s meaning is not in the size of your house, your stock portfolio or how nice your car is. After being reduced to an unemployed, sick man with too much time on his hands I have come to value accomplishments as the measure of a man. To do this I had to contemplate the meaning of a real accomplishment. Here is what I came up with.

I worked at a restaurant for a long time. A family business where I met my wife. I rose to the top of the food chain in the kitchen to a manager, where I was responsible for thousands of meals. To be real, however, my only real accomplishment was establishing high standards that led to a reputation as a hard-working perfectionist.

I sold cars for many years. Aside from consistently meeting or exceeding goals for sales and satisfaction, my only real accomplishment was the testimonials of customers that left with a different, better impression of my much-maligned industry after they met me. They used words like nice, accessible, professional and my favorite “has integrity.”

I worked as a Collections and Liquidations (repo) manager for many years. I developed systems, reduced overall losses, and increased profitability for the entire ten years that I was there. I was considered the best in my industry. Despite that, my only real accomplishment was that I helped a lot of people. People who were struggling, confused how things worked and needed someone to talk to who would really listen. I was the person that worked with them and I know that at the end of the day I made a difference in someone’s life.

Nothing else I have done matters…except my children. I really accomplished something there.

My children are awesome. At 21, 20, 18 and 15 I have four decent, sarcastic, hardworking and nice kids. They are good citizens. Charitable, kind-hearted, polite to all, respectful of the elderly and authority figures and did I say nice? I am a truly blessed man. While I wasn’t able to afford a massive house, a car for each of them on their 18th birthday and a trust fund, I was able to give them a decent childhood despite constant financial hardship. We went to Disney, we went camping, they played sports and I spent every minute of daylight and energy that I had to throw the football, fling the frisbee or wrestle on the lawn. Fighting the clock, all the while knowing that they were going to grow up too fast.

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I was able to walk the line between parent and friend, being accessible while still in position to leverage the “Dad card” when necessary. They weren’t afraid to tell me things. I never shielded them from life, instead, I told them how the world really is. My girls dressed as Disney princesses once, but today they aren’t the types to wait around for a man to solve their problems. My boys aren’t fighters, but they knew enough to punch the school bully back and he would leave you alone. And if someone messed with their sisters, well watch out is all I can say. The other lessons they learned from me were unfortunate. They learned the value of saving money by seeing their family home auctioned off. They learned the value of hard work when I lost 6 months of work to illness and the older 2 had to get jobs in High School. They learned about sacrifice when they realized that I had tried to leave a terrible marriage ten years previous, but stayed because they deserved to have their father around. And finally, they learned that life is not all sunshine and rainbows when their mother and I finally split up after 21 years of marriage. Amazingly, they are all thriving. Strong, resilient, versatile and not expecting a damn thing from anyone.

That is truly an accomplishment.

So let me tell you about my kids. Despite all of my shortcomings, they were able to retain all of the good things, rise above the bad and cause person after person to tell me how great my kids are. Thank you, I say. If I were to die tomorrow, they are indeed my real contribution to the world. My legacy.

Dreams and the Easter kiss

I am a very fitful sleeper. I rarely sleep for more than three hours, I never wake up in the position that I fell asleep in and I have very vivid and realistic dreams. I truly wish that I could remember them and write them down because there are some very telling things going on. I dream of people I actually know, sometimes interacting with people I don’t, celebrities and people I barely know from a long time ago. I retain certain details but not enough. Too bad because there is some great blogging material there.

With all of the changes going on in my life of late, it’s no surprise that my mind is racing. Health issues, financial problems and now a pending divorce are always at the forefront of my mind.

Last night was a particularly memorable one on the dream front. I know that I had several bad ones, details escape me, but I woke up with a headache at 2 AM so I know I was squinting and tossing and turning a lot. I drank some water, popped a tylenol and went back to sleep. I then dreamt of the “Easter kiss”.

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Most of the details of the dream escape me but I vividly remember that at the end I found myself in a car with my wife, driving somewhere unimportant, and we began discussing the pending divorce. I asked her why she initiated the process, jokingly asking her if she had been cheating on me. Her answer was a nonchalant “I have.” She began to list all of the men that she had affairs with and how she met them. One of the liaisons occurred at a place I do remember, a gym that I used to go to about 20 years ago. She then told me that I shouldn’t be surprised after the “Easter Kiss.” I asked her if I was supposed to remember this incident and she said: “I’m sure I told you.” I remember being beside myself with anger and frustration. And then I was woken by a text alert on my phone. It was my wife telling me when our first hearing for the divorce was.

It took me a while to collect my thoughts before I responded to her. That dream was real close to home. In reality, I have wondered why she suddenly decided to divorce after letting things stay the way they were for so long. I wondered if she had met someone. I would actually welcome it, I would like her to be happy. But I have never, ever suspected her of infidelity. She is a very honest person and despite all of our differences I always trusted her. I was rattled.

I told her about it this morning. She laughed it off. She told me that she’s not like that. To her credit, she’s not. But I can’t get it out of my head, where did I get the “Easter Kiss” from.

Strange days indeed

Talking to granite

I never thought I would be the guy to sit in a cemetery and talk to a piece of granite. I have lost many, too many, friends and family and I always make my visits to their places of rest. But I don’t sit and talk. That changed when I lost my Dad.

Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of his death. I wasn’t in the mood to write yesterday, it’s a tough day for me. Living in a house that he built doesn’t help. I see his touch everywhere in the woodworking, design, and collectibles. As I write this I’m sitting in his favorite chair with his beloved dog sleeping at my feet.

4 years later I still tear up when I think of him and when I attempt to talk about him I invariably choke up. I have been fortunate to have been asked to speak at some events I am a part of and have foolishly attempted to speak of my father and consequently blubbered in front of packed rooms. Historically, I am not a crier. But when it comes to Dad I can’t control it.

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As a guy with a long family tradition of “sucking it up and moving on” I am puzzled why it is not getting easier as the years pass. Time heals all wounds, but it doesn’t fill all voids. His loss occurred at a time in my life I probably needed him the most. I was finally coming around to understanding the things he said. Things that I rejected in my youth that I later learned he was dead on about. I had just started to appreciate his simplistic approach to life; be nice to people, tell the truth and work hard and the rest will come. I had just started to recognize that people with his value system and work ethic were slowly vanishing and his presence was a treasure. I was at a point when I needed his eternal optimism to fuel me as I entered the worst chapter of my life. He was minimalism at its finest…less is more. Less showboating, less ego, less drama, and aggravation.

I miss him. The world was a better place with him in it. He deserved better. He worked so hard for so many years to provide for his family and build a retirement. He retired early because his co-workers were all dying young. He enjoyed about 3 years before Parkinson’s reared its ugly head. It reduced a strong, proud man to a mere shell in a long 8 years. Those years took more than his mobility, they took his pride and his independence. Death was a relief for him, I saw his face when he took his last breath.

My life has been especially challenging lately. I am trying to maintain the family optimism and positivity. It’s getting harder. I wish I still had him telling me that everything is going to work out. I suppose while I’m wishing for things I wish that he could have enjoyed his retirement. I wish that he could have celebrated his 50th wedding anniversary. I wish I could tell him how many things he was right about.

I wish that I didn’t have to tell a granite slab things that I wanted to tell him to his face.

Tell the people in your life how you feel about them today, don’t wait. Tomorrow is not a guarantee. You may find yourself sitting in a cemetery talking to granite also. If you’re reading this it’s because I chose to share it with you. Because I care about you and I won’t wait until it’s too late to tell you. Regret is as eternal as granite.

pass the papers…I mean stuffing

Thanksgiving is always a difficult day for me. I love the day itself, having the family together for a big meal and quality time with the kids. Relatives and friends visiting. Turkey coma and football. The reality of Thanksgiving in my house has always been a wife who hates all holidays and her anxiety and misery would infect the entire house. Relatives stopped coming over, family stayed away and I found myself barely getting through the day without the help of a good Irish Whiskey. This year I was expecting the worst ever when I found out that my wife had told the kids we were divorcing.

My mom and I arrived at my wife’s new place around 12. I took great strides to make this holiday easier for everyone. I made the turkey and stuffing, all she had to cook was a couple of sides, some dinner rolls, and an appetizer. There would be no alcohol because I had a long drive ahead of me. Everyone was there already.

The day couldn’t have gone better. We got the table ready, we all sat and had a great meal with great conversation. Completely unlike every Thanksgiving before.

At the end of dinner as the Tryptophan set in and conversation slowed a bit my wife came in from the kitchen and sat down, a pile of papers in her hand. “When do you want to come down next week and take care of this?” The papers were divorce paperwork. I looked around the table and the expressions on everyone’s faces suggested that this was just no big deal. I was shocked. She might as well have asked me to pass the stuffing.

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I had agonized over getting a divorce for years and it turns out everyone is fine with it. The fact that we are not fighting over assets and custody is a blessing. It’s just so surreal.

Driving home that afternoon it occurred to me that all it took to finally have a good holiday without stress was to get a divorce. How about that?

Not what I expected

I remember it like it was yesterday. But it was 7 years ago. We had just had a terrible argument, in front of the kids of course, and I had stormed out of the house to go to work mad as I had done so many times. I could hear the coffee mug smash against the other side of the door a second after I had slammed it. It was going to be a great day for sure.

My first call was to my mother. She was always my go-to when this shit happened. I called her to talk, and while I was at it I asked her if I could stay in my Grandmother’s house for a while. She was maintaining a nice house one town over that was in probate. My Grandmother would never live there again. It made sense for me. She gladly agreed to let me stay there.

My next call was to my wife. I stepped outside after the morning meeting at work and told her, in no uncertain terms, that I was done. No more fighting in front of the family, it was too much for all of us. Her first reaction, to my absolute dismay, was to tell me that I was not to expect to “just waltz in any fucking time you want to see your kids because that’s not happening”. I always suspected that she was that type but there was my proof. I just told her that I would be by later to grab some of my stuff. She would be at work so it would be fairly easy. Except of course for the kids. They would by this time have already heard my wife’s version of our conversation.

When I got home that night, the wife was at work as expected. What I did not expect was my 4 kids sitting me down. Intervention style. My oldest daughter, then 16 led the charge.

“Dad, you can’t leave. It will be so much worse for us without you here.” I was very taken back. She went on to tell me that I’m the glue that keeps the family together. How I offset the toxic influence of their mother. That their lives would be much more difficult if I didn’t live there. That I needed to stay. For them. I knew what I had to do right then and I told them that I wasn’t going anywhere.

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One big takeaway was to wonder what my wife would have thought if she was to hear that! She would have been crushed and pissed off at the same time. What a cocktail of doom for all involved. I never betrayed my daughter for saying that.

Fast forward 7 years. My wife and I just had a conversation about finally getting a divorce. We have the papers and have agreed to terms. I am confused by my own reaction, I should be doing cartwheels but I’m sad about it. I was especially worried about the reaction of the kids. Especially my youngest. She is now 15 and she has always been very hopeful that she would see her parents be happy together.

Yesterday I texted my wife and asked her when we should talk to the kids about the divorce. We were going to be together for Thanksgiving and I wanted to gauge how awkward it was going to be. She replied that she already told all of them. Last week. I was floored. So many things pissed me off and I couldn’t finger what bothered me the most. That she told them without me?  That she didn’t tell me that she told them? Or that none of my kids, who have known for a week, said a single word to me about it? What are my expectations here?

I suppose it is possible that they can be uncomfortable and not surprised at the same time. They’re not going to give me a cookie for my staying in a horrible marriage for those extra years. It was the right thing to do and I’m glad I did it.

It’s funny that after all of the years of wanting this moment to come, I wasn’t ready when it did.

Quality of life

“February?” I asked incredulously.

“Yup, that’s what they told my wife. They didn’t think I could handle it. She told me though”. He ripped open another box of frozen turkeys and moved them closer to the tailgate of his truck.”They was wrong. I can handle it.”

“I don’t suppose I should point out that it’s late November huh?”. Pete looked at me and shook his head. ‘Nuff said. This guy had stage 4 lung cancer, had less than three months to live and here he was; out in the cold at the local food bank handing out frozen turkeys with me to the less fortunate in our community.

After spending 10 minutes with Pete I felt that I was destined to have met him. He is the walking example of how I want to be when I have less than 3 months to live. He is aware, he is doing what he wants to do, he is following his doctor’s orders and keeping his house in order. He has focused on quality of life.

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With the exception of a few low points, I am not the feel sorry for myself type. I don’t believe in it. I continue to believe that if I take care of myself and do what the Dr’s tell me I may live long enough for a cure. And if one doesn’t come around, I will have inevitably added years to my life by not thinking negatively. I only have one caveat, I insist on having a quality of life. Until the day that I am not strapped to a dialysis machine 7 days a week, I will strive to have a quality of life.

I spent the entire 4 hours of the food drive with Pete. He told me his story in bits and pieces as we opened boxes and carried food to people’s cars. He never smoked, he was exposed to asbestos while in the military. He is a life-long member of the community. He is an avid game hunter and fisherman. He told stories of hunting in his backyard when he was 14  before all of the houses were built. He went hunting as recently as last week with his grandson. He still works in his yard. He hopes to take his motorcycle out for one last ride but it’s too cold. He’s taking a ton of medications that make sleep difficult but he doesn’t mind because he can “sleep all he wants when he is dead”.

I am so glad that I met him. He reminded me never to get sucked into the bottomless pit of self-pity. He won’t let his illness define him. He is doing what makes him happy for as long as he can. He is exactly how I want to be when I get to that stage.

It’s not the years in your life, it’s the life in your years.

 

 

 

 

 

buy me dinner first at least

Haven’t been on for a few days. I haven’t been feeling it. Some events last week have consumed me to the point where even writing wasn’t a welcome release.

I have been grappling with my wife’s bombshell announcement that she wants a divorce. I really can’t explain why I’m so upset, I have wanted one for a long time. If anyone has read my posts it is a pretty common theme that we have been separated for almost a year but I really believed that she had expectations that we would eventually recover financially and get another place together. I never thought that would happen but I didn’t want to broach the subject of the “Big D” for fear of hurting her. To find out that she was actually thinking the same way was shocking. For some reason, I wasn’t prepared. Now it seems real, and it makes me sad. I really wish it could have turned out differently.

At the same time last week I got a call from Social Security Disability. I was told to expect a decision on my claim this morning. I patiently crossed my fingers and hoped for the best all weekend. I am not working and all of the best minds in my circle, doctors included, pushed me to apply. I received a denial letter this morning.

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I have an advocate working my claim for me. In return for a very large fee they take my fight to SSDI and try to get it done. I called them this morning and asked about the next step, the appeal process. There is a 12 to 18 month waiting period for an appeal hearing. I am screwed, without income for the next 12-18 months because of court backlogs all because they hope that I will drop my claim. I am a year away from dialysis, my blood pressure is astronomically high and my overall kidney function is in the toilet. But I am not eligible.

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It’s been a long time but if memory serves the last time I got fucked I remember having a nice dinner and getting kissed first.

Day 12 of the 30 day challenge…a letter to my future ex-wife

My wife told me this afternoon she wants to discuss getting a divorce

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A letter to my wife:

That was quite a phone conversation.

I’m experiencing a lot of emotions right now. I can’t believe I wasn’t ready for you to say to me what I’ve been dreading, dare I say procrastinating saying to you. I actually thought that I was the only one thinking it. And it was killing me.

You want a divorce. An amicable, non-contested, let’s move on with our lives divorce. No harm and no foul. Why am I surprised by this?

I have agonized for months over a conversation that you brought up over the phone.

I’m sad. I wish I had done better by you. You deserve better. I warned you when you were pursuing me all those years ago that I wouldn’t be the guy you deserve.

I feel inadequate. If only you were in a better place financially. I continue to blame myself for our money woes even though I couldn’t help getting sick. You’re now broke and living with a friend. Your future looks as bad as mine.

I feel relieved. Relieved that you also recognize that this is not working nor is it going to.

I am surprised at how easy it was for you to put it out there. We were such a famous story at one time that I thought it would be harder for you.

I am grateful. Grateful that instead of blaming me you told me that I didn’t deserve what happened to me. That I was a nice guy. That I, we, deserved to be happy.

I don’t hate you. I don’t even dislike you. We spent some really good years together. Unfortunately, we spent more bad ones. Arguing over money, clichéd as it is, was the end of us. We took on too much, tried too hard to keep up with the Joneses, and then I got sick.  

I love you as the mother of our 4 wonderful children, our one great success story. And I love you for all of the ways that you straightened me out as a younger, fool-hardy man. Once compatible, we grew in different directions. It doesn’t matter now which one of us is different, the fact is we have nothing in common.

I loved you enough to always honor our wedding vows. I was never unfaithful and I put you and our children first. But I don’t deserve a cookie because you have been faithful to us as well.

I need time to absorb the events of this afternoon. I agree with everything you said, I’ve thought it myself, it just feels real for the first time. You are right that we don’t live together, see each other often or even talk. And you aren’t going to keep me from seeing the kids, my biggest fear.

I hate an unhappy ending and we were a great story. But I guess it’s settled. It’s time to turn the page.

With much regrets,

 

Your husband

Day 11…a letter to the leader of my faith

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Dear Grand Architect of the Universe:

It took most of my life and it wasn’t until I stopped looking that I found you.

When I was younger I watched my fellow humans hail you, bow to you, raise hands high in the air and shed tears to you. I tried to feel that zeal but whatever wiring those people had, I didn’t. Frustrated, I walked away thinking that you weren’t there.

I denied you for years. I never reached out to you even when under life’s heaviest bombardment. I decided you didn’t exist and I was not going to be a hypocrite.

I couldn’t believe that you could allow so many bad people to thrive, so many good people to suffer and let a baby get Cancer. At least not the kindly Gentleman with the flowing robe and white beard I was taught to visualize.

I lashed out at your believers. I felt that they were selfish, only asking things for themselves, for their own advancement. What do you care who wins a baseball game after all? I decided that it was fine for people to believe in you if it makes them feel better but you weren’t for me.

Eventually, I came to realize that I believed in evil. To believe in one you must believe in the other. I further recognized that things are just a little too perfect to just be the result of a random cosmic explosion. Finally, I decided that if I cannot prove you are not there then it is very possible that you are. I closed my eyes, opened my ears and sought evidence of your existence.

I became a member of the world’s oldest fraternity 6 years ago. Freemasonry requires that a man has a belief in a higher power. They do not require a particular deity or denomination. Freemasons refer to you as the GAOTU, Grand Architect of the Universe. I joined Freemasonry as a step in building meaning in my life, it naturally followed that such a desire would incorporate Spirituality. I was looking not only for the meaning of life but for meaning in my life.

I started slow. When others prayed, I meditated. I took that time to think positive thoughts about others and reflect on what I have lost and changes I need to make. I spent time with men of faith and found that these good men used their belief in you to help others, not themselves. I found their positive approach to life as a portal to allow you into my life. Now I am completely open to what you have in store for me.

As my personal life has deteriorated, my family life has collapsed and my health has declined, you have become more apparent to me. Not because my need for you has, but because of my awareness of how much I appreciate what I still have. I do not question you for what is happening to me, I hope that you will help guide those that I love in my absence and that you will guide me in my goal of becoming a humble, grateful and kind person.

I find myself outdoors a lot now. I am able to stare at the woods for hours on end taking in the beauty of nature. I see you in the industrious squirrel foraging desperately before winter. I see you in the bluebird flitting from branch to branch. I see you in the ripple of water on the lake as I paddle my Kayak. I see you in the mountain ranges on a sunny fall day, in the smile of a child and in the affection of a dog.

Yesterday morning I left the house early, dreading the doctor’s appointment I was heading to. I looked at the end of my driveway and saw a baby doe with its mother standing looking at me.

There you were.