Loss of a Dream

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A selection covering the trials and tribulations of divorce and loss.

Submitted: June 09, 2008

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Submitted: June 09, 2008

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Love and Loss
Kevin E. Smith
 
I’ve always found it hard to communicate well, exactly what I’m feeling without writing it down. I don’t know if this is due to the fact that I am a child of my environment, taught to repress as opposed to express, or if for some reason I find more comfort in knowing that by writing what I feel; I don’t have to go through the motions of showing emotion, when saying what I feel. I guess that is why I’m able to tell the story I am about to tell. This way no one see’s the hurt I express, they just get to feel it as I did.
I was married once. My marriage was a rocky thing at best. Don’t get me wrong, there was love in it. Love, passion, and fire made up our small little world. The sex was great. We laughed and played, took pleasure in each other’s company, and tried to be there for each other. Parts of it were like a warm summer day. You just enjoyed the warmth and comfort, not thinking about the storms looming on the horizon. It was almost like a dream, and like dreams, sometimes they turn bad.
We all make mistakes. This is not supposition. This is a cold hard fact. Some mistakes are small; easily mended with kind words and gestures. Some are large enough that no matter what you do, there is no such thing as atonement. Some become termed betrayal. Regardless of the mistake, we must try to learn from it. This way it was not made in vain.
Mistakes are what ended my marriage. Between my wife and me, we made enough mistakes that it could have ended long before it actually did. It seemed as if all the small mistakes joined together to form a wall which in turn hid the person we each loved. No matter how hard we looked we were unable to see the person that we had first fallen in love with. Instead we began to see a person that was able at will to hurt, humiliate, and ostracize the other. The spring days that sustained us through the earlier storms, began to be fewer and farther between. Nights that were hot and filled with the fragrance of passion became nights spent alone; though the other person lies only inches away, thinking the same thoughts that you are. “What happened to make us this way?”
I’ll never forget the day my life changed forever. I came home from work and walked through the door looking to see my wife. Though I called her name no one answered. I began to go through our home, searching for her, calling her name, knowing she was supposed to be home. Search as I did, she wasn’t there. I decided to call her cell phone, hoping to reach her, hoping nothing was wrong. I remember feeling a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I dialed her number from the phone mounted on the living room wall. I remember my palms sweating as I listened to the shrill of the phone ringing. It only took a few moments for me to realize she wasn’t going to answer. When the announcement came over the phone saying she was unavailable or out of service, I left a message and began to pace the floor. I waited, and paced, for several hours before I heard from my wife. When asked about her whereabouts she simply replied, “I was window shopping.” Knowing different in my heart I began to demand she tell me the truth. Apparently she wasn’t ready at that time.
It was several weeks later that things came to a head. We had planned a weekend getaway which in theory was supposed to give us time to “fix” our relationship. We had been sleeping apart and unbeknownst to her, I had begun confiding in a female student at school; who suspected her spouse of cheating as well. Before we could leave to go out of town my wife and I, both being hard headed, got into a big fight. Working 3rd shift she was at work when the fight commenced. We were speaking on the phone and began to argue about her previous disappearance. I ended up telling her either she came home and packed her things to go on the trip, or I would go by myself. To make a long story short; I went alone. After leaving we made an agreement to try to talk things over when I returned. It just didn’t go that way.
I’ll never forget coming home with my heart in my eyes. I was so happy to be home, waiting for the opportunity to tell my wife how much I loved and missed her. What I actually got was a view of all my stuff packed, and a wife who wanted me to go live at my mom’s house for what she termed “A chance for us to be apart and work on our relationship, without being in each others face all the time.” She began to propose a plan where we slowly grew closer together and even said it in a way which made me buy it hook, line, and sinker. Heart in hand I took what few belongings I deemed necessary and began my trek back to the old homestead. After years of living out on my own and having a life which may not have been perfect, but was mine, I found myself moving back to the house I was raised in.
It took a few days for me to figure out exactly what was going on. I’m not a stupid man, I just had so much faith in the fact that my wife couldn’t lie to me when it came to us. That was a mistake which I learned from quick. Within days of moving out she began to disappear for nights and evenings. When she did decide to speak to me it was only to reassure me that everything was going to be fine, that she just needed time to clear her head. I spent whole afternoons crying and trying to find her. I so desperately wanted to show her how much she meant to me. I wanted to take her in my arms and do any and everything possible to show her how much I loved and needed her. I became an emotional wreck. My heart was shattered and all I could do was keep scraping up the pieces that were left, and try to give them back to her. I didn’t realize it at this point, but it was already too late.
After a few weeks of trying to talk to her, trying to chase her down, and trying to figure out exactly what she wanted from me; my wish finally came true. She called me and told me we needed to talk. I remember the way my heart jumped in my throat with hope. Happily I began to get ready to see her. I dressed in my best clothes, put on my best cologne, and even shined my shoes. I raced to get to the designated meeting spot. I was dying to see her again. I remember seeing her as I pulled in. She had told me we were going to meet in town at a local shopping center and that from there we would go somewhere together where we could “talk”. It turned out our talk consisted of very few words. Watching her emerge from her car I realized that she didn’t appear happy to see me at all. In fact it was just the opposite. She seemed like she had a distasteful thing to do and couldn’t wait to get it over with. I slowly got out of my car, grabbing my keys as I did. I walked towards her hoping the bad feeling in my gut was nothing more than that. As soon as I was in easy speaking distance she began to say the words that forever changed my life. “Baby,” she began, “I’m so sorry to tell you this but I’ve made up my mind. I know that I’ve been telling you everything will be o.k. and that everything will work out. I’m sorry, but I have to tell you that I want a divorce.”
I remember asking her why. I also remember the feeling of being broken. At this point she was unwilling to tell me the extent of what had happened. I guess she was showing me a bit of pity. She was withholding the information that would hurt me more than I was already hurting. I guess she knew I knew, but knowing and knowing are two totally separate things. I made sure to ask her if she was sure. Then even went as far as to reiterate and ask if she was positive. She never hesitated when she told me it was over. Even though I felt something inside me break, I held it together long enough to get in my car, drive down the road, and began to mourn as I have never mourned before. I remember crying until I made myself sick. Repeating her name over and over; telling myself it wasn’t true. I even prayed to god, wishing he would change the situation, or to take the pain, even if it meant killing me.
In my pain I reached out to the only person I knew I could talk too. I called my female friend from school and relayed to her how bad I was hurting, and what had transpired. She offered to come to me. She was willing to drop everything and rush to my aid. For that I will always have a piece of my heart with her name on it. Eventually I calmed down and she convinced me that we would meet in a few days so that we could talk, and I could get some things off of my chest.
By the time we actually got together, I was a mess. I felt like my whole life had been turned upside down. All that I had worked, and strived for, was no longer mine. I let my wife have everything but the few effects I took when I left. I had been inconsolable for days. I even contemplated suicide, however briefly. When I actually got up with her I was barely what people would call good company. She comforted me though. For some reason she had decided to meet me at a bar. We sat and talked, drinking beer like it was soon to be taken off the market. For the first time in weeks I had found my smile again. After a while she asked me if I wanted to go somewhere more private where we could talk without being in a room full of people. Taking her by the hand I led her from the bar and to the passenger seat of my car.
We drove around for awhile. I wasn’t very familiar with her home town so I was more than a little interested in sight seeing. We stopped at an overlook. We exited the car and sat on the hood just being close to each other. Enjoying each others company. We each had a penchant for being able to make the other laugh. Before I knew it I was sitting on the hood of my car, crying onto her shoulder, and hurting so deeply I never thought it could end. She put her arms around me, pulling me close, and began telling me that everything would be all right. Her hand began rubbing the back of my head. Her fingers felt so good in my hair. It felt nice to know that someone cared I was hurting. It surprised me when her hand slipped under my chin and she pulled my face up from her shoulder. She said, “Look in my eyes.” I slowly lifted my eyes to look at her, and this is when she began to kiss away my tears. There wasn’t much speaking after that. Slowly her kisses came closer and closer to my mouth. I don’t remember the exact moment when her tongue entered my mouth. I do remember how her mouth tasted though. Her breath was sweet with the taste of peppermint gum, faintly flavored by the alcohol we had consumed earlier. Her hair smelled of the shampoo she had used, and her skin smelled of peach body spray. I lost myself in her touch. It felt so good to be touched and wanted. Right or not, I made love to her that night, right on the hood of my car. It never happened again after that, husband cheating or not, she wasn’t made for infidelity. We spoke but few times after that night. I just know I’ll never forget her.
I went home very late that night. I spent a long time thinking about what had happened. I felt so guilty for sleeping with someone else even if my marriage was soon to be over. I cried for the longest time. I wanted so badly for the events that had taken place to have been with my wife and not another. Powerless to change it, I went on with what life I had left and commenced with living with what had happened.
It wasn’t very long after this that I got a call from my estranged wife. She told me she needed to talk, and that even though I probably wouldn’t want to hear what she had to say; I deserved to know. I invited her to come over to the house I had been staying in. I remember watching for her from the porch. Sitting in the swing, I slowly moved back and forth, waiting to see her. I knew it was over, but I still looked forward to seeing her and knowing she was all right.
When she arrived she was all business. She didn’t waste anytime whatsoever. She removed her sunglasses, looked me dead in the eye, and hurt me more than I thought I could ever be hurt. She opened her mouth and said, “I’ve been having an affair. I know you probably have figured this out, but you still deserve to hear it from me. I love him and want to be with him. He makes me feel like you haven’t made me feel in a long time. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do to change it. It’s over. All those nights I told you I was with my mom, trying to clear my head. I was with him. Every time I told you my cell phone was out of service, I was at his house, in his arms, and that’s where I want to stay.” I don’t remember much after this. I guess it was the shock. I do remember telling her what I had done with the girl from school. I also remember the pain from hitting my knees after she spoke the first words. It was like some one hit me in the gut so hard I couldn’t breathe. Inside I was praying to god to kill me, and outside I was just as broken. Sobbing on my knees, I cried like I had never cried before. Without a touch or a word, she left.  She walked away with me mourning my broken soul, holding myself on my mother’s floor. I wished with every part of me that it could be taken back
I didn’t hear from her again for a while. Most nights I cried myself to sleep. I would lie there wishing wishes that just couldn’t come true. I wanted things that just couldn’t be. Slowly I began to try to rebuild my life. I started running around. I was looking for someone to fill the hole that my wife had left in me. What I found was not what I was looking for. I found a life of loose morals, wild women, and drugs by the truck load. I went from coming home to a wife to going anywhere I could to get a fix. I didn’t want to get high at first. All I wanted was to hurt less. Trying to hurt less took me on a ride I hadn’t been on in years.
When I was young my mom and dad had separated, which involved me switching schools. I made a new friend my first day. I didn’t know his parents sold drugs. If I had known, I wouldn’t have cared. I was in a new place with no friends and he accepted me. When most kids were riding bikes and skateboards; I was free basing coke. While normal kids were home doing homework; I was popping pills, and smoking weed. Needless to say I ended up dropping out of school, and resorted to a life of petty crime. I didn’t live that way long. I ended up getting a job, kicking dope, got my G.E.D... I was trying to get my life back on track. (Which I eventually did) It wasn’t long after I got my life in order that I met my wife.
Soon I found myself hanging out with the same types of people I had hung out with when I was younger. Some of the faces were the same, age being the only difference. I began to crave things I hadn’t craved in years. I was doing things that still make me hang my head in shame. I guess what they say is true…people do some wild things when the heart is broken. Either that or people do some wild things when they have what they think is a good excuse. Regardless of my reasons, I was in a downward spiral.
This is when I had the craziest day of my life. It started out with me finding out that my wife had not only been seeing one person; she had been seeing two. Even though I had made steps to move on with my life this tidbit of information was a very big blow to my still fragile heart. While trying to digest this information, my cell phone rang. You can imagine my surprise when I answered it and it was the girl I had slept with from schools husband. He and I exchanged some very mean words. Apparently she had written some things down and he found them. I almost thought we were going to end up with one of us in jail and the other dead. After we had finished our conversation, my phone rang again. When I answered the call I was very surprised to find it was my wife. I could tell something was wrong with her so I proceeded to try to get her to open up and let me know what was going on. After quite a bit of talking she admitted to me that she was pregnant. Apparently the one of the guys she had been with was the father and both denied the baby was his. She and I hadn’t been together in a long time, we knew it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t long after this that I hit rock bottom.
It took me a few relationships and many tears before I finally started climbing out of my hole. I slowly worked towards kicking my drug habits (again). My wife and I both agree that we would never be able to be together again. There is too much water under the bridge and too much heartbreak under our collective belt. We still talk from time to time. I was there for her when she had her miscarriage. She was there for me when one of my new relationships fell through. We try to maintain what little love still lies between us. It does make me wonder about a few things though. The main thing I wonder about is what makes it easier for us to communicate now that it is over, than it was before anything happened. I don’t know if the love we shared and the distance from each other combined to make us better people, or if we’ve both learned a few things about life and love since then. I do know that I will always love the woman I said “I do” to. I just can’t ever love her the way I did. I wish her all the happiness in the world. I just hope I find some for me too.


© Copyright 2017 kevin smith. All rights reserved.

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