Many of us have done well in picking our wives. Men marry up, which means that woman marry down. They’re often smarter than we are, thought we were cute though, made them laugh, might make a good family man with a little work, they felt.
Through the years, they created the home that we lived in, picked the clothes we wear, the social network we circle around in. She took care of the kids, protected them when you wanted to kill them, urged you to be a bit sympathetic when you weren’t. On those days when the world seemed to close in, she treated you like a little boy and comforted you. Your job so it seems, was simply to go out in the world, make your way and play the roles you needed back home. The director was calling the shots, you just read the lines.
She had only one wish, a hope really. The hope that it would all end well. The kids would grow up and become adults and have a good life. An the two of you would grow old together with plenty of memories to look back on and a companion to help into the future
In the middle of this all, YOU had to go out and f*ck it all up. Couldn’t cheat on her with the young receptionist. Didn’t go out and buy a sports car as part of your mid-life crisis. NO, you had to go ALL THE WAY into the unimaginable. “Ha — fooled you, bet you didn’t think that that was coming, now did you?”, in your outing process.
An like that, the entire house of cards came tumbling down.
A mess of unorganized cards, some face up, some face down. The scene of a very bad accident. You’re not sure you even saw it happen. You’re now not even sure what the house of cards had even looked like before. You have pictures and memories, but you mainly just have cards.
Husbands and wives get divorced all the time. It’s a daily occurrence, nothing new. Usually it’s because they hate each other, which is the easiest to deal with. ‘F’ you, strong letter to follow. They go out in a blaze of glory and never speak again. Sadder is where the spark simply disappears, a realization that the fire had died and one partner took it upon themselves to move ahead. They calmly dismantle the pieces, a firm handshake, they might have lunch at some point down the road.
If you’re having an out of body experience, hovering over your scene, not believing this act as it’s being played out, have no fear. You are not alone.
I often forget my wife in my writings, though she’s never far from my thoughts. She is busy picking up the pieces, reorganizing things and considering herself a survivor. She has only one wish, a hope really. The hope that this all ends well.