Barb – And They All Lived Happily Ever After

And they all lived happily ever after….a work in progress.  Who are all these happy bastards and how do I join that club?  Is it because I frequently find myself sucked into my own personal vortex that I can’t see clearly?  Maybe it’s because I’m too busy looking upward wondering what hit me that it’s so hard for me to learn whatever it is life is trying to teach me.

Recently, I’ve been having a hard time understanding and acting on these lessons.  I think it’s because I haven’t been able to get past the initial hurts to see them clearly.  Over the last five years I lost three people very close to me.  The first, my Dad, was not surprising as he’d been sick.  It didn’t hurt any less knowing that it was coming but at least I had the chance to say everything I needed to before he was gone.

I guess it was the next two that I have the most trouble with.  The first issue I have is with God or the higher powers that be.  It’s because they were sudden and, in my opinion, undeserved.  Al was my former fiancé and while he wasn’t the right spouse for me, he was still a good person.  The last time we spoke he was just getting his life together.  All the issues that had plagued our relationship were finally becoming clear to him.  I even told him that it was good that he was figuring these things out now while he was still young enough to make the changes he wanted.  He was worried he was too old.  We had no idea he was right.  Three days after we spoke, he was gone.

Are we fated to live only a certain amount of time?  Why take away a person’s chance for a fresh start just when he was finally ready?  In Al’s case it was a freak accident while cleaning his truck.  My regrets are small potatoes compared to how unfairly his life was cut short.  I was sorry I hadn’t kept in touch with Al more closely over the years.

The last loss was probably the hardest and most shocking.  It was the hardest for me because I had so many regrets and missed opportunities.  Connie’s loss ripped a hole in our family.  I lost my sister, her son lost his mom, and my mother lost a daughter.  It doesn’t get much more shocking than a brain aneurism late at night. At six weeks old, Claire didn’t understand her Aunt’s funeral.

In the following two years, the only time I’ve seen my mother happy like she used to be was when she spent time with my daughter.  Why do I never hear about these kinds of things happening to bad people?  I remember a friend once remarked ‘What makes you think God wants the bad people any more than you do?’

There are plenty of things I’m still struggling to understand.  The basic things I get.  Appreciate the time you have since you can never tell how much you’ll have.  Cherish your family and loved ones since they are only on loan from God.  Do what you love, life is short.

So why do I find myself stuck in my own personal vortex instead of acting on the lessons that hurt so much to acquire?  Wasn’t this sinking in?  Was it complacency and fear of the unknown?  I’m sure that’s some of it.  My vortex is a comfortable place, after all.  Breaking out of this pattern I’ve established takes more than courage, it needs justification, too.  If I’m not earning money, cleaning something, or spending time with Claire, I’m goofing off, right?  Focus on writing for the joy of it and the rest will take care of itself.  Have faith.

Treating the pursuit of my dream as important as a job – what a fairy tale!

Terrie – And They Lived Happily Ever After

She was a wild child when they met, red hair flying, prairie girl dresses, passionate speech.  He was calm in his jeans and pullover sweaters, his kind brown eyes.  She was a social worker.  He worked with people who were disabled.  Their attraction was as surprising as it was compelling.  They talked earnestly.  He liked the way her hazel eyes turned green when she felt deeply about something, which was fairly often.  She admired his purposeful manner, felt something dissolve when he focused his quiet gaze on her.

Very quickly, and with full certainty, they knew they were supposed to be together

Their friends worried.

“He’s so conservative!  Are you sure you’re not looking for a father figure?”

“She’s a character, isn’t she?  You’ll have your hands full with her!”

“I never thought I had many needs,” he told his mother, “but I do, and she meets them.”

“My heart settles down when I’m with him,” she told her friends.  “I feel like I am home.”

They decided to be married on their second date.

For everyone’s peace of mind, they waited another eight months for the wedding.  It was a family event, attended by all of the people they worked with.  A regal-looking  man with autism began to sing, a high-pitched wail that faded as a staff member lead him outside.  An elderly man with Down’s Syndrome and a soft heart began to cry sentimental tears, and another man began to mock him, crying even louder.

“It was a very unusual wedding,” guests later told them, and, laughing, they agreed. On the video, they both smiled throughout the ceremony; dazzled, happy grins that transformed their faces.  Everyone laughed when she was promising,” to speak and to listen” and he whispered, “to speak and to speak.”  When the minister said he could kiss his bride, he whispered, “You are my rose,” from The Little Prince, and then kissed her so long and so hard that her feet came off the floor and the audience began to cheer.

It’s been 24 years since that giddy, tremulous day.  To tell the truth, it has not been “happily ever after.”  It has been a lot of hard work, a journey of struggles and upheaval.  The very things they loved about each other, the very things that first drew them together, have caused them much pain and difficulty.

“Show me some emotion!” she has implored, again and again. “Open up and share your feelings!”

“Don’t you think you’re over-reacting?”  he has been known to argue.  “It’s natural for things to settle down.  I’m glad for the butterflies to be over. I want us to be comfortable.”

The two golden-haired girls they were given, peach and ivory, song and swallow, piercing sweetness and heart-stabbing love, entered adolescence and shocked them with their disdain.  They survived that season and can laugh again with their daughters, now bright and luminous young women with strong minds.

Then came Empty Nest, all pain and possibility, blended with loneliness.

“Who am I?” she asks herself these days, heart and tears overflowing.  “And why is my husband so distant?”

“What does she want?” he asks himself, mind full of plans and projects, heart resentful of her intensity and need.

Still –

Sometimes he grins at her, and the laugh crinkles around his brown eyes still make her heart soften.  Sometimes they still make a little magic together.  Sometimes they feel the strength of their love, the security of their union, the sweet and distinctive peace of so many years of trust.  And they are grateful.

Maybe that’s all “happily ever after” really means.