
A few days ago I wrote about paradox and I'm going to write about it again in a more personalized fashion tonight as it regards marriage and divorce. This is a photo of my former husband R. and his current ladyfriend, D., who turned 60 today. He threw a lovely luncheon party for her at the Odyssey, high on a hill in the San Fernando Valley, where R.'s and my children and grandchildren, and blended friends from R. and D.'s lives, different ages and stages, gathered to witness, I think, our respect for the choices people make that you care for.
R. and I married in 1958 (I was just 21 and he was 24), and in 1984 we separated only five months after celebrating our 25th anniversary with a huge party with many of these same friends who came today. We were so young when we married and were so deeply affected by the culture and the times. It was time to marry, we loved each other--and marry we did. And we raised three great kids, had a rich marriage filled with camping, friends and family, but we had our ups and downs, just like all couples and families have. Separation and divorce were not something we entertained as options when the times were hard. My own parents were married 50 years when my mom died, but they loved and hated each other fiercely and remained together to the end. My four sisters stayed in long-term marriages but none of them was capable of supporting herself, as my mom wasn't. When I saw that our marriage was in trouble, I went back and finished my B.A. and got my M.A., because I wanted to--but also because I wanted to be able to support myself if I ever had to. It would be easy at this point to lay blame, I guess--each of us had cause--but suffice to say, at that particular juncture anyway, we knew being together was extremely unhealthy. There are huge risks with trial separations after long marriages--and I took a huge risk because I'm the one who forced the issue. About 1 1/2 years later, when it was apparent that R. would stay married but free forever if I didn't impose my will, I filed for divorced which was final in 1987. I thought legal action would shock us both into trying harder. It didn't.
R. remarried the following year and I began a series of serially monogamous relationships, but I had deep qualms about remarriage. But, I always framed who I was through the eyes of a man. Being without one was very hard. A practicing Catholic at the time, I even went through the Church annulment procedure, which I would not recommend to anyone. I would not go through that kind of scrutiny again--ever--under any kind of circumstances, by choice. R.'s second marriage ended some 10 years later, and he stayed truly single for more than a year, getting used to what it was like to experience life without a woman. It strengthened him. As for me, by 1997, when my last serious relationship ended, I made a vow to my parish priest that I would take a hiatus from dating and men to find out--at last--why I felt like I was nothing without a man. I am the kind of woman, smart as I am, that adapts to what I think a man needs and I simply give myself away, become resentful, and then passive-aggressive. I don't do male-female intimacy very well, I'm afraid. I agreed not to seriously date for up to two years and now nine years have suddenly passed. Fr. Tim has long ago left the parish I used to attend and I am not a traditionally practicing Catholic anymore. I wish with all my heart I had a male companion, but I would never remarry at this point, or even live with anyone. I would travel with one, however!
R. has been with D. for four years now, introduced by a mutual friend who knew D. through business--and though I admit I did not like or accept R.'s second wife easily (though I'm a diplomat for the sake of my kids), I like D. a lot and do not think of her as the other woman. We are always together at all major family functions. Do I feel jealous when I see her beauty, what looks like youth to me, her obvious devotion to R. and his to her? Do I wish I had hung tough all those years ago and simply stayed married even though we weren't living together anymore? I'd be a liar if I didn't say yes. But, they are good together; they are meant to be together at this point in time. And I accept that I am in divine order, too, though sometimes I do whine, kick and scream a little bit.
But, in hindsight, R. and I carved out the lives we were meant to have when we separated. He was a good husband most of the time, I was as good a wife as I knew how to be, and we were and are damned good parents--and are good grandparents. We cared for our own parents until they died and all our family and friends still love us both--mostly separately, but sometimes together, like today. And in our own way, R. and I still love and respect each other.
Aaargh! Here's the kicker! R. got up at the luncheon and asked everyone to each stand up and tell a little bit about ourselves and our connection to D. and him. To say I froze in my heart would be an understatement. Fortunately, I have a zany sense of humor, as do most of our family and friends, and a man who had spoken earlier had already made a huge faux pas by referring to D. with R.'s second wife's name. That broke the ice, as we all howled. Oh, hell, what did I have to lose?
Here's kind of what I said, "Oh, boy--here we go. Are you ready for this? I am R.'s first ex-wife and these are our beautiful children and grandchildren. And these tables of friends have continued to love us both all of these years. And, happy birthday, D. If I could have hand-picked a girlfriend for R. myself, it would have been you. The two of you are very good together." My two children who were there both thanked D. for the happiness she has brought their dad.
Yes, I was gracious, I was classy and I admit I pridefully accepted later compliments from several other people commenting on this fact. (The first year we were separated, by the way, I was an on again, off again raging bitch.) But, I was and am acutely uncomfortable tonight--and I'm uncomfortable writing here, but I am compelled to do so. I need to put these feelings out in the world and to ask you to witness them. I feel like I'm telling tales out of school. But, I've seen too many couples in long-term marriages who split up, never move on, and make themselves, their kids and family miserable in the process. But sometimes you simply have to move on--or at least appear to look like you have moved on. I love the life I have, I admit; I would not have this life if R. and I were still married, though I would have a nice, traditional life. R. is also a gracious, classy and extremely generous man. I am grateful we had the many good years we did. I stopped drinking several months ago by personal choice, but there is a part of me tonight who would just love a good, stiff Manhattan--and a few hours on a dance floor leaping around to the golden oldies just to work the angst off. But, blogging community, I have you--and I have myself, and I do have God.
Recent Comments