wet birds don't fly at night |

So what is the point of all this.  Well, finally here is the point.  I got married when I was 21 to someone that I was, and still am on same level, absolutely crazy in love with.  He was 19.  We were married for 20 years and after a slow decline due to issues on his side (some of which I will discuss, some of which I will keep private as I can discuss what I am going through without having to reveal things such as that), all of a sudden, we are getting divorced.  He has always been a slash and burn guy, so I don’t know why anything surprises me.  I met him when he was fleeing from a long-term teenage relationship that got to be too much.  I always accepted his word that it was her fault.  Now, I doubt that.  I have thought about that girl for twenty years.  I guess I always knew I would end up being her.  He took off in the middle of the night and flew to Florida and never said another word to her again.  Why didn’t I see back then the capability for being a cold-hearted bastard?  Because I was in love.  There is something deeply wrong with the soul of a person who can live like that.  I felt sorry for her.  Perhaps she was the lucky one.  I truly hope she has found happiness.

Now, I KNOW that I contributed to the problems.  All relationships are that way.  Two problems trying to work each other out.  And he was far from just being a jerk.  He is a man of contrasts.  On one hand, he has proven to be the biggest bastard that I have ever known.  But he remains the sweetest, kindest, romantic, beautiful, good-smelling, soft, wonderful man I know as well.  I could go on forever gushing about the good qualities.  Those are all that he showed to the outside world.  Unfortunately, the bad qualities were just as intense.  I can’t believe that the hands that caressed me are the same ones attached to the bastard who is trying to literally starve me.  How can someone make love to someone and then try to destroy them?  He swore to take care of me always.  It is times like that this that I hyperbolically wish I were not a Christian so that I could believe that the ghosts of my parents would come back and make his life hell for his lies.  I am glad to be rid of the bastard that I tried to pretend wasn’t there.  I am cut to pieces over the loss of the sweet soft boy.  Did I ever know him?  Perhaps I didn’t.  Was everything a lie?  Or just half of everything?

A Passing Bell
MOURNFULLY to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;
What did you say, my dear?
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob-
Yes, my love, I hear.

One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving,
Why not let it ring?
The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender, mild
Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb-
It is such a little thing!

A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come and look,
Yes, it is over now.
Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
The starling shaking its head as it walks in the grass-
Ah, who knows how?

He cannot see it, I can never show it him, how it shook-
Don’t disturb him, darling.
-Its head as it walked: I can never call him to me,
Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.
No, look at the wet starling.
~ D.H. Lawrence. 1885-1930