My Father’s Regret
I was grateful he shared it with me
I tried to leave my husband a first time. It seemed like the classic reason. I’d fallen for another man.
That man lived in my neighborhood. We both were married. We each had three kids. We were struggling in our marriages. We needed someone to talk to while our spouses were talking to, and doing who knows what else with, other people. Not us.
We were the partner that held down the fort. We took care of the kids. We sacrificed for the greater good. Then we met someone we could talk to about our thoughts and our dreams, stories from our past, things we’d been through. We met each other.
I could talk to this man about anything, and he listened, whereas my husband would walk out of a room while I was talking to him.
There were other things, too. My husband had punched a hole in our wall when he was mad at me one time. My fault. I’d made him mad.
There were the almost daily arguments. Over nothing important.
If we went a few days without fighting, I’d think, oh yes, we’re going to be okay, this is going to work. I’d let myself believe. Then we’d fight again, over something insignificant, or something I wasn’t doing enough of, in some way not meeting his expectations. And I couldn’t ignore him. I’d bite…
