The Healing Walk

Blogger’s Note:  Inserting a different blog here from what I promised at the end of the last blog.  Oh and if you enjoy reading my blogs and don’t want to miss a single one, enter your email address in the box to the right and you will get notified when a new one comes up!  I should’ve had that on day one but I’m just learning the tricks of the Blog World.  Now, on with my whining!  :) 

I think I jinxed myself.

In my previous blog, Anything But Normal, I “bragged” about being able to control and put up on a cabinet shelf the deluge of questions that frequently came up about what went wrong between me and my wife.  Well, I apparently don’t have that much control.  I woke up around 11:30 last night (after going to bed at 10:30) and did not go back to sleep until around 2:30 because of the constant buzzing in my head. 

The buzzing continued when I woke up at 6:30 and proceeded to get worse until I was practically incapacitated by around 10ish.  I know I lose man points when I admit to crying but I’m confident enough in the points I have left to take that chance.  Yes, after probably a couple week dry spell, I broke down.  Why?  I don’t know.  That’s the problem with the buzzing…it never has any real answers just questions.  I decided, however, instead of just sitting there wondering when the tears would stop, I would do something about it.  So, I took the advice of a good friend and went for a walk.

Prior to all this divorce stuff, I was pretty active in the P90X circuit.  I was about two months into the program and had lost about 10 pounds and starting to notice the weight coming off.  I store my fat in my face and in my belly.   That’s it.  Nothing else seems to get the attention of my fat cells.  I, however, had a better weight loss plan than Tony Horton and P90X.  I had … the Divorce Diet!  Yes, in just one month, I lost 15 pounds.  It’s amazing what simply not eating will do to your waistline.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been doing P90X since finding out that I was getting a divorce.  I just didn’t have the desire or time to fit it in.  I was spending a lot of time just staring into space or working on divorce papers or finding another house and that time took away from work so I need to catch up.  To do that, something had to give and it was the exercise.

This morning, however, I needed the exercise.  I needed the activity to help me battle the buzzing.

So, I walked and walked hard.

I thought about when I started exercising in earnest.  More specifically when I started training for my first and only 5K.  I did it because I sensed a gap forming between me and my wife as she was and is an active runner.  I thought maybe we could bridge that gap by running together.  I hate running, though.  Hurts my knees and I could never sustain enough stamina to keep running. I constantly started and stopped.  I sucked on my 5K and the truth was, she didn't need me as a running partner.  She had other friends who could keep up with her.  I did keep up with the exercise, though.  I worked out each morning.  I got a good sweat going and sent her pictures to prove I was doing it.  I thought it would make a difference.  It didn’t.   Well, it didn’t in our relationship but it did for me and my health.  I am probably in the best shape I’ve been in years and that’s a good thing…especially when you have kids that are MUCH younger than you. 

I kept walking.

I wished I knew how to turn off my brain or at least how to stop the buzzing.  I don’t know if it takes drugs or drinking…those probably aren’t good options but I sure would be up for something.  I thought I was through all this…all the staying up at night thinking about what could have been or what was.  Maybe I was still on Prague time since I just came back from a week there or maybe I was simply not as far along in the healing process as I thought I was.  Whatever the reason, the walk was definitely helping.

So, I kept walking.

I thought about the stuff that was buzzing in my head.  It was all the usual questions of “Why” and “How did this happen?”  The stuff I really will never have any answers to but they kept coming up.  I think I was focusing this time on what my wife was thinking.  Did she have the same type of feelings?  Did she also have a constant pit in her stomach?  Did she lose sleep?  Was she even upset about it at all?  These questions are generally unfair and I really don’t like speculating on what’s going on in her head.  I do think that she has better reign on her emotions, though.  Still, I wonder if she ever thinks about how she let it get this way.  I know that sounds like I’m placing blame on her but I’m not trying to do that.  I know I missed out on opportunities to recognize problems and to work on them but I can’t take all the responsibility and that’s where I'm asking (in my head) what responsibility was she taking.  She has admitted she should have talked about her unhappiness but that’s the extent of it.  I get mad at her because I don’t see her in the same moods I get into.  She doesn’t seem to be as remorseful or guilt ridden or sad about these things.  I suppose,  again, is that she’s better at hiding it and me getting mad about it isn't helping anyone...least of all me.

What about me?  Can I hide my emotions?  No.  No way.  When I was younger, I used to think I was Mr. Cool.  Mr. Emotionless.  No one could read me, man.  Right.  I was actually Mr. Heart On My Sleeve.  I was and am blatantly obvious with my emotions.  So much so Stevie Wonder could read me.  If I’m sad, people know.  If I’m mad, people know.  I would have made a terrible spy.  I wish had my wife’s emotional control.

I kept on walking.

My brain was starting to get as tired as my legs.  I realized I had been walking for about two hours.  The sweat was pouring out of me…stinging my eyes.  This was all good although I wished I had planned my walk better.  I would have chosen running shorts and a lighter t-shirt but it was a spontaneous thing.  It won’t be the next time…which will be tomorrow.  I need to keep going on these walks or getting back into P90X.  I think the sweat that is leaving my body is also washing out each “worry” or “question” or “wonder” or “what if” that makes up the buzzing. 

Leaving those things in the cabinet I was storing them in was wrong.  These questions don’t need to be stored away.

They need to be let go.

Next time:  The hunt for the house

Anything but Normal

This probably won’t come as a big surprise to most of you but I really wasn’t prepared to go through a separation and divorce.  While I sensed there were problems, I didn’t think we were at DEFCON 1.  I certainly wasn’t prepared for the toll they were going to take on my emotions.   I may have been strong one day but the next I was as weak as Superman in a room made out of Kryptonite. 

Since I wasn’t able to move into my own place (as told in Making the Spare Bedroom Your Bedroom, Spare), I had to reside with a woman who no longer loved me and try to get on with my everyday routine.  Truth was, I just wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there; away from her, the situation, the routine, everything.  Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I couldn’t do that…I suppose I could have but there is no way that would have been healthy.  Making McDonald’s my breakfast, lunch, dinner and late night snack for a year would have been healthier than that.

What struck me the most is how it wasn’t the big things that got me thinking about that rock.  I handled issues about visitations rights, custody, child support, the separation of our stuff and filing all the divorce papers with a relative amount of sanity. 

But when it came to the small stuff…

The everyday stuff…

The normal stuff…

…well, that’s when it got to me.  “Hey, how about we grill some steaks tonight?” or “Do you want a cup of coffee?”   The normal talk two married people have would make me go dark and silent.  I kept thinking we shouldn’t have this type of conversation.  Our situation was not normal and thus normal conversation should be banned.  We should be feeling sad or mad or guilty or embarrassed…anything but normal.

Why would I have a problem with the normal stuff?  I had to think about this one for a bit but I believe it comes down to the fact that talking normal led to feeling like things WERE normal.  For example, a few Saturdays ago, our daughters were in a dance recital.  We drove separate cars, mainly because I planned on going to a local home improvement warehouse afterwards, but, if I’m being honest, it’s just more comfortable that way.  My wife’s mom and step-dad came and it brought great joy to us to see our daughters dancing up on stage. 

Afterwards (and this is a three hour afterwards…dance recitals can be long), my wife asked if I wanted to go to dinner with her and the girls.  My initial reaction was to say no but I was hungry and decided to go.  While having dinner, the subject of going to the movies came up and the next thing you know, we all went to the movies.

The worst possible thing happened that night:  We had a good time. (insert dramatic music here..something like "Da-da-duummmmmmmm")

Having a good time leads to those ever familiar and dreaded questions:  “Why did we let it get so bad?  Doesn’t she like times like these?  Won’t she miss these times?  What the hell happened?”  The buzzing crept back into my head.

Fortunately, I had a lot of practice with these questions.  I was getting pretty good at controlling them, putting them on the shelf and shutting the cabinet door on them.  I realized whatever we were experiencing at the time was a momentary thing.  The way we were was no longer and we had to deal with the way it was.  Early on in the situation, I would have been considerably depressed for a few days over something like this but I guess I was starting to heal.  It was still sad but it was no longer devastating. 

I also avoided talking about events outside of us, the children or the divorce.  I needed to stop sharing that type of personal stuff because, again, it would make our situation feel normal.  My dad had back surgery while we were in the middle of finalizing the divorce agreement and I was worried about him.  I sent my wife an email about it and I regretted it the second I clicked the Send button.  I was reaching out to her for comfort and I realized I had to stop doing that.  I either needed to turn to other sources for that type of comfort or just comfort myself. 

In addition to bad news, I also didn’t like to share good news or just regular, everyday “news.”  As anyone would do, I spent time chatting with my neighbors.  Normally, after having conversations like this, I would talk to my wife about some of the things “the guys” and I talked about but not anymore.  Why?  Well, it’s that word again: “normal.”  I just couldn’t talk about anything other than the divorce and child matters because I didn’t want things to feel normal. 

Were my wife and I still friends?  It’s a question I still wonder about.  I wouldn’t say we were enemies but “friends” didn’t seem right either.  There’s a certain air of normalcy to being friends…we were more “very familiar acquaintances.”  I think that best sums it up. 

I do wonder if we’ll ever get back to having “normal talk.”  We still have the job of raising our children so we must communicate at some level but will we be able to conduct normal talk?  If we do, then I know it will a sign of healing.  One that means a step closer towards forgiveness and starting over has been taken with the person I was once “one” with. We’ll never be that “one” again but maybe we can be that “two.”  Two people who can simply talk.

What could be more normal than that?

Next time:  The hunt for the house

Storage Wars: The Divorce

Since we were splitting up, I began the process of separating my stuff from her stuff.  This was by no means an easy task although either by accident or some precognitive moment, I started cleaning out the basement a few months earlier.  I went through all the boxes to get the stuff out of the rotting cardboard they were in and put them in plastic bins.  While doing this a LOT of items were thrown out.

It is truly amazing the amount of crap one tends to keep especially when its stuff you are simply carting from the storage area of one house (whether it be an attic, garage, closet or basement) to another house (whether it be an attic, garage, closet or basement).  I came across a small box of 45 rpm records that I used to “spin” back when I did D.J. work about a million years ago.  Such great hits like “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” by Billy Ocean and “Cruel Summer” by Bananarama.  I probably D.J.’d for about two years before I realized there was no way I could afford to be a D.J.. Keeping up with the latest music was an expensive endeavor.  For the few gigs I got as a D.J., I doubt I was coming close to breaking even since I had to spend so much just to have a decent selection of music. Plus, I had these huge speakers that would blow the fuses out of my equipment if I played them too loud.  Not to mention what a bitch they were to haul around.   Nowadays, all you need is a laptop, iTunes, and desktop speakers that produce more sound than the giant ones I had.  What you really don’t need is someone to play them.  The iPod “Shuffle” feature probably put a lot of D.J.’s out of business.  Maybe if I had fancy disco lights and Village People props I could have stayed in business.

Anyway…where was I?  Oh yeah, the records.  I did my DJ thing for about two years back in the late 80’s and here I was still hanging onto these records. Did I think I would listen to them again?  I didn’t own a cassette player much less a record player.  Did I think they were going to be valuable? A quick check on eBay proved that to be a false hope and thus they were trashed…at least I think they were trashed…did I keep them?  Maybe I’ll find out in the next divorce.

I have to admit as I was digging through our stuff, I kept thinking, “Wow!  I can’t believe we just stored this away!” and then I would put the cherished, rediscovered item into its new storage bin and back on the shelf.  You always think that the junk you have might be worth something.  I’m sure it’s the very rare occasion that what you have is like something found on “Storage Wars” or “Antiques Roadshow.”  You know, the item that was unusual enough to get appraised and turns out it’s worth several thousand dollars.  I’m sure that Spider-Man coin I have from 1973 is only worth a few bucks (although I did find someone hawking one on eBay for $125.00…zero bids so far). 

But aside from treasure hunting through my stuff, another idea hit me.  I already have the Divorce Shower idea from the award winning blog, Bed, Bath and Bothered and now here’s the next winner:  A Pre-Boxtial Agreement!  Yes, you can still have your Pre-Nuptial agreement but I think we should start adding in the Pre-Boxtial Agreement.  It's simple.  The husband keeps his stuff in his own boxes and the wife in hers.  Allow me to elaborate in my best lawyerese:

  
 

Hereby and set forth upon this day and onward for the entirety of the marriage between the Husband and the Wife, all possessions that clearly and unequivocally belong to said Husband or Wife shall be stored separately and unequivocally from the other.

Said containment units shall also be color coded to be properly, quickly and unequivocally identified in the event that the aforementioned marriage between the aforementioned Husband and Wife is utterly and unequivocally terminated. 

A third uniquely identified containment unit shall be used to hold “marital property” that cannot be unequivocally declared to be the sole possession of the aforementioned Husband or the aforementioned Wife.  Said items shall include but not be limited to:  gravy boats, Christmas decorations, casserole dishes, vacuum cleaners, lazy susans, placemats, photo albums, small appliances no longer in use, doilies, and various bric-a-brac, doo-dads, and other weird names to describe decorative items that generally do no more than unequivocally gather dust.

For those readers who have been through the heartache of divorce, wouldn’t this have been a great help?  Heck, throw out heartache and put in backache!  Everything you owned ready to go at the first sign of unhappiness…or three years after the first sign of unhappiness…however it happens to fall.  Divorce is tough enough emotionally, does it have to be physically as well? 

I, unequivocally, say thee nay.

 

Next time: Breaking the routine

 

Hey, Girls? We Need To Talk...

After much deliberation, thought, and constant changing of plans, the time came for my wife and me to tell our two daughters that we were getting a divorce.  Originally, we thought we would tell them shortly before I left…not like the night before and then by morning I was gone.  More like a week or so before to let them get used to the idea.

As I told you in a previous “episode” (Making the Spare Bedroom Your Bedroom, Spare), it was an expensive proposition for me to move into temporary housing while I found something more permanent and because of that, I stayed in our house.  As if things weren’t tense enough, trying to keep our separation a secret from the girls was making it that much more tense.  Tense like a kid twisting a balloon and you’re just waiting for it to pop.   Getting the news out in the open could only make things a little bit better.  Like not getting first degree burns, just second degree ones.

Our girls were ages 5 and 7 at the time.  They were young enough so that long term, if we as parents handled it right, the divorce shouldn’t completely mess up their lives.  We decided that maybe it would be a good move (well, at least A move…I’m not sure there were any good moves in any of this) to tell them about the divorce and maybe get them engaged in it. 

Now by “engaged in it,” I don’t mean the girls choosing sides or watching me cry into my Keurig brewed cup of coffee each morning.  More like having them pick out their furniture and bedding for their rooms in my new place or driving by the house that they will be living in with Mommy.  We felt putting this out in the open and letting it sink in before Daddy left in about 30-40 days was better preparation.  Like I said earlier, there really aren’t any good ways to tell your kids news like this but there sure the hell is a lot of wrong ways to do it.  Despite what we were going through, neither my wife nor I wanted that.  “As unscathed as possible” was my mantra.

We sat them down and tried to relate our breaking up to the “break-up” our 7 year old had with her practically lifelong “boyfriend.”  This was a boy she went to day care with when they were three or so and they were together so much they decided they would get married. It was few months prior when she told us she no longer wanted to marry him and that they were just friends now.  When I asked why, she replied, “It just happens that way sometimes.” It seemed like a good angle to take with them and for the most part, it worked, but not as well as when we told them Daddy would be living in his own house where they would have their own room.

“YAY!  We get two bedrooms!”  The screams could be heard in the next county.  Perhaps we should have opened with that.

To say we were surprised at their reaction is the understatement of the century.  This was the moment we were dreading the most and here they were high-fiving each other because they’ll get two bedrooms.  There really wasn’t much more to say.  We couldn’t force them to cry over the news and we were sure tears would fall once we actually moved apart.  We either had the most well-adjusted kids in the world or ones still too naïve to the notion of divorce or a combination of both, which worked for me.

As of this writing, I am still living at home and it does appear that the girls understand that I will not be living with them for much longer.  I get questions like “Daddy, when you move into your new house, will there be a pool?” or “Daddy, what are you going to do when it snows at your new house and we come to visit?  You don’t have four wheel drive.” (My wife had the vehicle with four wheel drive and there were occasions where she came to the rescue because my truck got stuck). Those questions tell me that they understand what is going to happen but then there are situations like this:

I’m showing my youngest pictures of my new house and pointing out the living room, my bedroom and their bedroom.  When I get to the picture of the guest bedroom, she states, “And that’s Mommy’s room!” 

Okay, so she understands that Mommy and Daddy won’t be sharing a room but still had the notion that she would be under the same roof.  I calmly explained that I didn’t envision a scenario where Mommy would ever be sleeping in that room…although in my head, I was thinking if Mommy’s house, her mom’s house, all of her friend’s houses, and every hotel suddenly blew up simultaneously and it was the middle of winter so sleeping in her car wouldn’t work, that might be one scenario.  I wasn’t keeping my fingers crossed.

We are keeping a close eye on the situation…looking for signs that they may not be taking this as well as we think they are.  So far, the only sign we see is the for sale sign in our front yard and our girls anxiously awaiting their new bedrooms…two new bedrooms. 

Ugh…there go the screams of joy again.

Next time: A new type of pre-nuptial agreement

The Discord of the Ring

About two weeks after the decision to get divorced, I took off my wedding ring. It just didn’t seem right to wear it and I really wanted to work on removing the tan line.

Let me just say up front that I LOVED wearing my wedding ring. I only took it off to shower because I was worried I would lose it and as it was soap built up underneath it and gave me a rash. I felt naked without it on, though (which was okay when I was in the shower as I typically am naked whilst showering). I would constantly play with the ring while I was working or doing a lot of thinking about whatever happened to be noodling around my brain at the time. I would use my thumb and just turn or flick at the ring…I always knew it was there and it was a comfort to me.

I think using a ring as the symbol of marriage is one of the perfect things in life. Its round so it’s eternal which is what the love in the marriage is supposed to be. It fits nicely on one finger of your hand so it’s incredibly convenient. I mean just think if the symbol for marriage was a nose stud or a fifty pound ankle bracelet.

Because the ring is prominent on the hand, it is also the best method to convey to others that you have committed yourself to another person. That alone should be enough to keep people from hitting on your spouse or at least make you think twice about doing the same. It’s unfortunate in many cases the ring is not enough to prevent that. Maybe if it was a fifty pound ankle bracelet people would be more aware of it.

I loved wearing my ring and it was a difficult decision for me to take it off because I knew that once I took it off, it could never go back on. This was the final proof other than signing all the paperwork that my marriage was over. It was sad and I hated doing it but it no longer held any meaning for me anymore. My marriage was not eternal. I no longer needed the ring to ward off others and while I would like to think it was the ring keeping the ladies from hitting on me, I imagine the real truth is somewhere between “That was never going to happen” and “There was never a chance that was going to happen.”

The ring was no longer responsible for reminding me to be faithful and committed to the vows I made over 8 years ago either. Those vows no longer mattered. They no longer mattered to my wife and thus, they no longer mattered to me. So off the ring went from my hand and into the bathroom drawer. I wasn’t really sure what to do with it and I still don’t know what to do with it. Do I keep it as a reminder of what used to be and of what ultimately became a failure? Or do I throw it into the nearest lake?

As I write this, I’m reminded of one of my favorite songs by Don Henley, The Heart of the Matter. With all due acknowledgements and copyright nods toward Don Henley, the following lyrics have played inside my head for quite some time:

“The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I’m learning again.
I’ve been tryin’ to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about … forgiveness
Forgiveness…
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

I do think that once you get past the anger, denial, and sadness, divorce is about forgiveness. You make the vows and you try to uphold them but if one no longer wants to follow them, part of those vows should be for the other to forgive. You cared enough about them at one point to start a life together. That same caring should be used when you part as well. I’m not saying I was perfect in doing that and in truth, there are still times where anger or sadness overpowers the forgiveness, but at the heart of it all…at the heart of the matter... I knew it’s what I needed to do.

So, I kept my ring. I won’t wear it obviously but I’ll put it aside somewhere, forget about it, and then find it again at some point in the future. I hope that it will bring back the good memories of what my wife and I once shared and not the bad ones. It will forever be a symbol of what we had and that’s probably something I should cherish.

Now, does anyone know what the rates are at a salon for tanning just the left hand?

Next time: We told the girls

Making the Spare Bedroom Your Bedroom, Spare

Before I left the house but after my wife and I decided to separate, there was a period of time where I used the spare bedroom as my bedroom.  There really wasn’t any other choice.  For the financial outlay of a staying at a hotel for the length of time it would take for me to find a new place, I could have bought a small car and lived in that.  I also couldn’t get an apartment for a month and a half.  Plus, really?  Moving TWICE?  Moving once was going to be bad enough.   Staying in our house until I found my new house was the only viable option regardless of how uncomfortable it was (although, upon reflection, I would suggest against staying in the same house.  Do whatever you can...including the purchase of small automobiles).

First of all, let’s take a look at the name: SPARE bedroom.  I was pretty much feeling like a spare in my marriage so why not use my namesake bedroom?  When I was asking my wife to try to work things out, her attitude was “Spare me…”  As I sat in the other room while my wife and daughters watched TV together mainly because I couldn’t stand the tension of being in the same room with my wife, I felt like a spare tire…just there in case they needed me.  Certainly, the room fit my mood at the time.  

The act of going to bed was interesting when you were banished to the spare room but your kids didn’t know about the divorce yet.  I had to wait until the girls were asleep before I went to bed just so they wouldn’t find out.  Truth is, when I was travelling a lot for my job, the girls would end up sleeping with their mom anyway, so I’m not sure they would have connected any dots. 

Speaking of when I was traveling, the girls got so used to sleeping with their mom, they would come into our bed even when I was home.  We had a king size bed, but I had a hard time sleeping with three other people. If they were unrelated super models, maybe not so much, but they weren’t.  They were a) my wife who was probably glad to have the girls between us considering the outcome of our marriage and b) my girls who could be in the Cirque du Soleil with some of the sleeping positions they got in…and every single one of them involved poking me in the back.  (Again, though, if they were super models and not my daughters, Cirque du Soleil positions wouldn’t be so bad.  It’s amazing how every bad story can turn good with the addition of super models.  Get some today!)

So, it was off to the spare bedroom for the spare member of the household.  Allow me to paint a picture of the spare bedroom although I probably don’t have to since a lot of households have them.  To start off, you have the bed and it’s never the most comfortable bed in the house.  Let’s face it; the couch is a better option than the spare room bed.  The bed was usually owned by one of the spouses prior to marriage that was too good to give up but not good enough to play in the big league bedroom (i.e. the master bedroom).  Let the relatives sleep on it when they come over.  Serves them right for not paying for a hotel (just kidding!  Love my relatives!  Don’t forget my birthday!  I need a flour sifter). 

Next up is the pathetic single dresser stuck in the corner that is full of somebody else’s clothes…and I don’t mean somebody else in the household, somebody ELSE completely.  Hand me downs for my daughters from the neighbors, clothes bought and brought over by grandparents that were still too big for the girls, various blankets, sheets and baby clothes that we were keeping for…um…what reason?  There wasn’t any room for my stuff not that I really went that far anyway.  I was still able to use my own closet and drawers in the master bedroom, thank you very much.  I just couldn’t use my wife’s closet and drawers, if you know what I mean!  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. 

Ahem. Too soon?  Yeah, I think so.

A lonely little nightstand with an equally lonely little lamp sat next to the bed.  In the drawers there was absolutely nothing…except dust which I’m sure we were saving for the girls for when they got older.  I used the nightstand mainly to put my phone (aka my alarm clock) on and have it charge overnight.  I was at a point where I didn’t want to read…my mind was pretty much tuned to only one channel and couldn’t spare the focus-osity for reading.  Instead I used “Words With Friends”, “Draw Something”, and good ol’ Facebook to lull me to sleep. 

Yes, I would sneak into the spare bedroom once they were asleep so I could go to sleep myself.  A lot of the times I would sit there in the dark, only the luminance of my iPhone shedding any light, breathed in the fresh air flowing in from the open windows where it was nicely circulated by the ceiling fan above me, and think about how much it sucked to be sleeping there. 

I’ll bet super models would have made it less sucky.

Next time:  Let’s not put a ring on it.

An Open Letter to My Niece

We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog for this breaking news: My niece is getting married today!

I wanted to share a letter I wrote to my niece and her new husband:
 

To the happy Couple:
 

Please stay that way…the happy couple. Love and marriage can be a tremendous thing. It will give you an incredible high and give you the confidence to lift cars, jump over buildings and sail to the moon. It is truly one of the greatest gifts you will ever know. 
 

The gift that marriage brings, however, must be cultivated; it must be cared for. Don’t take it for granted. Don’t forget that it’s there. If ignored, it will go away. If not properly watered, it will wither.

  

Enjoy each other’s company. Remember that you were friends first and lovers second.

  

Talk. Talk. Talk. TALK. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s about a subject you hate or makes you uncomfortable. You have to do it. It’s important in order to keep the gift alive. To help you out, my wedding gift to you is a pair of long range walkie-talkies. Think of them as old school cell phones but at a much shorter distance and they can’t take pictures or play your favorite tunes (unless one is propped up against your stereo). With these, there is no excuse not to communicate.

  

The Great Don Henley once sang:
 

“So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray we're the lucky ones; I pray we never fall.”

 

I pray you are the lucky ones as well and that you never fall and as long as you care, enjoy and talk, you never will. 

Now go get ‘em!

  

Uncle Kevin

  

I wasn’t really sure how to end that so I decided to act like it was halftime at a football game. Nothing like a coach pep talk to kick off your marriage, I always say. Actually, I don’t think I or anyone ever has said that but I love being original.

  

I guess the reason for posting this as my blog today was to show that despite what I may write in this thing, I am not against marriage. I think it's a wonderful institution and the best way to show and display the love two people share. But the marriage takes work; work from both to make the marriage and possibly more important, the love, last.

   

My wife and I didn't do the work and thus our marriage withered and died. It is one of the things that still makes me sad and goes back the the question I had in the first blog: Why? Why didn't we work harder? I'll never know the answer so the best I can do is make sure people know there is work and maintenance to a marriage. If you don't see it and recognize it, at some point, you'll be faced with wondering where the marriage went. 
 

And that's a terrible point to be at.

  

Next time: Living alone with three other people (for reals this time!)