October 8, 2013
Today I cried.
I cried because I missed my husband. I missed the young couple we once were. I missed the moment we first met, I missed the long drives we once took, I missed sharing a bed with him – just he and I – without a child in-between.
I see him often in-between tasks, during dinner and before bedtime. We plan date nights once a month and interact via text throughout the day. Despite these weak efforts to stay connected, in the monotony of our busy lives, I felt like we lost our passion for each other. Some days I would look in the mirror and wonder if he really saw me – because in becoming an abrupt mother of three boys, I often wonder if I could see me anymore.
Many years ago I decided to network with other nonprofits on MySpace and found an intriguing comment from a handsome man. So I clicked on his profile, went directly to his blogs and was immediately impressed by his profound poetry. I didn’t check if he was single or look through his photos. I simply subscribed to his blogs without giving it much more thought.
As a writer and blogger, it was natural for me to connect with people online and resonate deeply with their thoughts. At the time I had no idea his inspiration came from a history paved with success, divorce, failure, love, injury, pain, depression and hope.
A couple weeks later I received several comments on my blogs. It took me some time to realize it was the ‘poet’ I subscribed to weeks beforehand. After several emails, we began conversing for long durations on the phone. A month or so after, we finally met.
Before getting off the plane to meet him I felt mildly uncomfortable in my skin. Despite my efforts to lose weight, I was still 20lbs overweight from years of disordered eating. I quit my corporate job months beforehand and returned home to live with my parents. I just founded a nonprofit and lacked a steady income. He was a former Marine and divorced father with a traumatic brain injury. When we joined, both our lives were experiencing a transitional stage of humility and perseverance.
When we first gazed at each other, I was in disbelief that this was the man I shared so many endless nights talking about life, love, happiness and hopes with. He wasn’t the man I typically dated – obviously – as I never dated anyone with such a colorful past. Despite some of his initial ‘baggage’, I instinctively knew that we were both meeting each other during a moment in time. Things change. We will change. And we never know what the future held for either of us. I will not always have my beauty, we will not always have our youth – and as David has already experienced, we may not always have time – especially when you only have 5% chance of surviving after a car bomb in Iraq.
So I miss that time.
I miss that moment. The moment we first caught eyes, first held hands, first touched lips…I miss the moments that eventually created the ripple effect of lasting change and revolution in two very different people, with two different life histories.
In our years together we have both transformed. Despite our united journey in raising a family and sustaining a marriage, we often forget that we are still on our personal, individual life journey – trying to find who we are and what makes life’s hustle more meaningful. It’s not for him to define my life for me –or vice versa – it’s for us to help each other, support each other, forgive each other…
Today I cried. I cried because I want to begin prioritizing the first commitment that birthed the multitude of commitments I now experience daily. I want our marriage, the way we envisioned it… a marriage permeating in passion purpose and promise, a hopeful life that we know, without each other, would not be possible.
The first step in wanting change is to feel and desire it in your heart. I deeply missed my husband yesterday and today I am going to start displaying it, saying it and praying for it.
I love you David.