It's a Wonder

I'm spending a lot of time on here talking about how I feel. How you wronged me. How this affects me.  I want you to know that I'm also trying to see it through your eyes. All relationships are two way streets and both sides have a responsibility to hold up their own end. There's two sides to every pancake, is how I think you put it.  So, that being said:  I'm sorry I didn't make you feel like this was a safe place to land when the wheels were coming off. It was a safe place ... whether you believe it or not.  I wish I had learned a new way to address conflict that allowed us to be more productive when we hit rough patches.  I should have been more involved in the business ... taken on your bookkeeper role ... to help you grow your empire. I wonder if you felt like I just abandoned you.  We should have carved out more time to talk about the real stuff. The hard stuff. Or learned how to do that after the first time.  I fell into a big black hole with Be...

I loved you. All of you.  I loved you when things were good. And I loved you when things were rough.  I loved you when things were easy. And I loved you when things were hard.  I loved you when I knew we were in sync. And I loved you when I could tell we were off kilter.  I loved you when I knew you were telling me the truth. And I loved you when I knew you were lying.  I loved you enough to admit my faults and to offer forgiveness. I loved you enough to beg you to come home. I loved you enough to put my dignity and pride aside in hopes of a fresh beginning.  But, in the end, I didn't love you enough to make a difference, because love needs two.  I wish I could figure out how to stop loving you. But I can't. 

You keep trying to tell me that you don't love her. That she's moving on and you're staying put. That you haven't been romantically involved or not for that long, anyway. That you aren't sleeping in her bed ... you know, just sharing a closet.  Actually, if I'm being honest, you're really just trying to avoid giving me any details at all. Which probably means all of the stuff you said above is pure bs.  I don't know why you STILL feel the need to shade the truth about this. If you think not telling me hurts my feelings less, you're wrong. Or maybe you are still trying to convince yourself that you're not as big an asshole as you're afraid you might be. I need you to understand this one thing:  You started cheating on me the second she entered your life and you didn't tell me about her. The very second.  You were cheating on me long before you helped pick a property in Wyoming. Long before you kissed her in North Carolina. Long before you ...

You left me in 2017. Early in 2017.  You left me without telling me.  You made a choice to get invested with someone else. You made a choice to turn to her and not to me.  You left me with with no future.  You made a choice to build a tomorrow with someone else. You made a choice to change direction and didn't have the decency share that new plan with me.  You left me with all of the problems and the work.  You made a choice to stop taking care of the business, the bills, the upkeep of the house ... all while taking care of her and hers. That is not just unkind, my dear. That is truly mean. You made a choice to ignore and deny the life we built.  You left me alone.  You made a choice to abandon me. I get that perhaps she needed someone, too. But why was her need greater than mine? Why did I not matter? How could you be so purposefully hurtful to someone you shared a life with?  You left me like I was worthless.  You made a choice to stop...

Do you remember that Brewers game we did with the Prairie du Chien crew?  It was a perfectly beautiful day, we arrived early to tailgate, everyone was having a good time.  Our seats were between right and center field on the Miller Party Deck, I think ... in the same place we had hosted the PE crew a year or two before.  I was having a great time. Big Personality Me had showed up, with the help of a couple of extra beers. She didn't show up very often, as Regular Me was a bit to unwilling to relax and be fun very often. But on this day, the company was good and everything was just easy, so why not?  There was a small group of young men sitting behind us. Like young-young. They couldn't have been much over 21. They started chit-chatting with us.  You know that Regular Me is not a mingler ... not someone who makes random small talk with strangers. (You're the one who can learn someone's whole life story and exchange phone numbers in the Menard's parking lot, remem...

I have gotten into the unfortunate sleep pattern of waking up between 3 and 4 a.m. I mean, I'm up-up. Wide awake. I usually grab my phone and turn on the TV, looking for something to lull me back to slumber.  Most days, I'm awake for about an hour and then I kind of fall back into a catnap like state ... not really full sleeping, but hovering between asleep and awake, only to pop back up again by 5:30 or 6 a.m.  Today, in that twilight, I had another dream about you.  We were at the house. You'd been gone on a long run and had just returned for a quick food/laundry/kiss on the cheek/see ya later stop. I was so happy to see you. So thrilled to touch you and look in your eyes.  You seemed so happy. So energetic. So full of life.  I thought you were staying. But you said you had to go. You packed your red duffle bag, gave me a peck and out the door you went.  The next morning, I woke up and went outside to see your truck and trailer parked in the driveway....

Text sent to you on Sept. 18, 2020, 6:47 AM I just dreamed I was looking out the bedroom window and I saw you walking in the back garage door. You were smiling and waving toward the driveway, as if you were talking to someone … Denny maybe. You were relaxed and laughing as you waved at him. Then you kind of leapt through the door as if you were anxious to get inside. My heart started pounding in the happiest of ways and I quickly shut my eyes., trying to control my breathing. “Jim’s HOME!” my brain was screaming. “He’s home!” I assumed you were trying to surprise me and I willed myself to stay put, in control. “Don’t blow it! Don’t ruin his surprise!” I tried to hard to keep my eyes shut and keep breathing. I heard you on the back step, heard the back door open and I forced myself to just hold on for a couple more seconds. It was finally over. This whole painful, screwed up, horrible mess was FINALLY over. Just pretend like you are sleeping and let him surprise you! It will be a ...

Do you show her photos of Kristy’s kids? Didn’t it feel weird to forward them to me and her? Have you been to visit them on your cross-country drives? I always believed we’d do that. I have to admit, when I first discovered this I instantly wondered if those kids were her grandkids. I know now that they’re not. But, man, did that feel like pure pain for a few minutes.

You lied. You lied. You lied. Every single time you talked to me. Every single time you texted me. Every damn time. For about 4 years. Every minute, every second you didn’t tell me the truth, you lied. You’re still lying. Job interview in Iowa my ass. I helped you pack to go live with her. “I don’t love her. I’m not going with her to Texas.” Let me translate that. “We’re keeping our house here and she’ll commute. I’m not leaving her like I made it sound.” I’m loading, unloading, broke down, out of hours, on my way home, in Milwaukee, feeling better, trying to get home to you, in a bad cell phone area, rejected at unload … it goes on and on. I love you. Love you me. I miss you. There is no her. I couldn’t do that to you. I love you. I love you. I love you. You KNEW what I was thinking. You KNEW how I interpreted all of it. You slept in her bed and you told me you loved me. Who does that? What kind of person does that? How could you do that to me? Me? The one ...

I’m working this timeline like a crazy person. Trying to figure out when you really left me. I’m wracking my brain to see if I can find evidence of when you started staying out longer and longer. When you disappeared from our normal life. When you removed your tools and your deer head and your saddles. When you left your garage door opener on the counter, was I supposed to know that meant you were moving out? If I remember right, you left the garage door opener and your debit card on the island. I don’t remember if you left a note, or if we talked about it before you left, or after you left. In my head, the conversation included some sort of guilt-ridden explanation … “I don’t want you to worry about me taking money from our account, so I’m leaving the debit card. And you should have the “deluxe” garage door opener (yours worked on both doors, where mine only opened mine).” More suspicious women would have known right away that was a death knell. But I just didn’t think about it....

One of the times I miss you most is when I make the bed after washing the sheets on Sunday nights. It sounds stupid, but that 2-minute exercise was about intimacy for me. It wasn’t a chore that required two people. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just kindness. It was both of us contributing to us. To the marriage bed … which sounds sort of silly and formal. But that is sacred space. Both of us tending it. When you were “on the road,” it was the one time every week that I just ached from missing you. And still do. I have over 150 solo sheet changes in at this point. But who’s counting? Now I get to wonder if you are giving that part of yourself to someone else. The thought of it hurts so deeply.

Today was the day I learned that they believe you’ve been divorced for three years. Or, at the very least, you’ve been solely theirs for three years and are undoubtedly divorced. I certainly didn’t expect to get this information when I found the photo of you playing Grandpa, teaching that cute kid how to shoot. I was just so shocked when I found it … so stunned when I looked at the date … that I reacted impulsively, “liking” it with the angry face emoji, as my heart was beating in my throat. I apologized. It was probably a childish thing to do. And, I also let you know I had done it. But now I know that you’ve been lying to more than just me. Which means you have a problem on your hands. How are you going to wiggle out of this predicament? Tell them that I’m the crazy, psycho woman scorned? “See … that’s EXACTLY why I left! She is obsessive and nuts! I told her to back the fuck down and if she doesn’t, I’ll get a restraining order!” The problem with that is that we both kno...

That you hum or sing a little in the morning when you wake up and feel good, just like your dad? That you didn’t always wear boxer briefs? That your name was Funcle Jim? That Joe called you Little Brother? That you always show up first when someone needs help (Ballard’s porch, Erdman’s tornado)? That Kati came out to you first and wanted you to help her tell her mom? That you handled Kati’s first period? That Kati adores you … and worries about you, and needs you? That there wasn’t a dry eye in the house during the daddy-daughter dance at Kati’s wedding? That my dad loved you, with this “supervisor” lawn chair, truck-driving stories, and fighting over the check? That you rototilled our 7 acres with a garden tractor? That you eat tiger meat? That you CAN polka? That you draw these strange little characters with big noses and smiles on the corners of the paper when you doodle? That you really don’t care what kind of pillow you use? That you never get your ba...

Fireflies. Bridal wreath. Peonies and lilacs. Journey. Alaska, starfish, moose, midnight sun. Diet Coke. Crab raccoon. Grilled cheese and tomato soup.and BLTs and sweet corn. Taco trucks. Clint Black, Like the Rain If they can't find you handsome, they better find you handy. Sunday mornings on the deck. Dinner on the porch. Dr. Seuss trees. Half marathons. Chex Mix caramel crack in brown paper bags. Making the bed. Laying new floor. Hanging drywall. Jack Daniels, RC Cola and Moon Pies. Boob lights. Cock of the Walk. Massage on the beach. Allergy eyes. Downhill in the mountains. Living in tent.  Digging with teaspoons.  Sunrise windshield, “This is my office.” Getting passed by a goat. Going to town in Summersville. Melted taper candles and sleeping with the windows open on Hwy. W. Fixing fence with steeples. Speedy and Ice Age. Cutting wood. Romantic walks in the woods … with deer. Bear and Mountain Dew. Morphine....

I am so fucking mad at you. You let me look like a fool in front of EVERYONE. You let me continue to pass on the bullshit about how we were still OK. How I talked to you every day. How you were struggling, but still hanging in there. You left me here with all the mess. You let me rob my bank accounts to cover your fuck-ups. You continued to take my love, my trust, my dignity … when you knew you were never coming back. Who does that? Who the fuck does that to someone they love? Or loved? It makes you an asshole. Don’t tell me you had no way out. That’s not true and you know it. Don’t tell me you couldn’t talk to me about it. I have 12,000 texts that say otherwise. Don’t tell me it was unfixable. All things are fixable if you want them fixed. I am not the ogre here. I am not the one who didn’t try. You think you’re tired of fighting? What fight did you put up? I was the one here, fighting for you every damn day. You ran away. You moved three times and had someone to tal...

You know those episodes of Dateline or 48 Hours we used to laugh at? Jilted lover, dumb redneck plan, car goes over a cliff, phone records seized and someone caught on surveillance tape at the Kwik Trip. I have to admit, as Karla and I were winging our way westward on Wednesday night (say that three times fast!) to surprise you, I kept feeling like there was a possibility things could go sideways and one of us would end up face down in a river. It seemed like a good plan, for the most part. From the minute I learned about this whole mess, I wanted to see you. I wanted to know you were OK. I wanted to pin you down, face to face, where you could not ignore me. I wanted you to look me in the face and tell me the truth. I thought you owed me that. So I hatched the plan. First I needed a rental car, as mine wouldn’t make it to Wyoming. The bonus was that it potentially would not have WI plates, making us a little more on the DL. Then I needed driving snacks. Pop Tarts and those ...

Before Karla and I left here, I considered calling Gary and Mikey and asking them if they'd go with me instead.  I thought that if the three of us showed up, you'd make the connection to that trip and snap out of whatever this is. We'd literally grab a few of your most important things, toss you in the back of the car, and rescue you like you rescued Tina in Texas oh so many years ago.  I'm going to wonder if I did that wrong for the rest of my life. 

You know how when you’re hurting, you want to retreat into your own domain and close out the world? I’m feeling that way right now, but my domain is this house. And it’s filled with you. Which makes things really difficult. Everywhere I look, you are there. The photo under the TV of all of us at the pyramid in Mexico sits next to the rocks you “stole” from the glacier in Alaska on the sofa table you made with Denny. The canvas I had made of the photo I took when we were at Makers Mark in Louisville sits on the photo ledge on the landing of the stairs. The deck you built, expanding it to what it should have been from the beginning, proving you were right once more, is surrounded by the fire pit, the rock wall, the concrete you poured, the peonies you planted for me, the bridal wreath my mom bought for you … it’s all you. I can’t even look at the tray ceiling in the bedroom. The half-round bar, your driving awards in the office, the red couch because you love red, the ama...

 I try not to spend too much time thinking about her. She is not my issue. My concern. My beef. You are. But there are times I can’t help but wonder what she knows and how she feels. It’s jealousy, pure and simple. I want to know why. I can understand how it happens. She’s hurting. You’re hurting. You find some comfort in supporting each other and little by little, a relationship grows. I’d like to think you weren’t out there looking for that. But what do I know? This could have been going on for a decade or more. (The book she had in her Amazon cart in 2009 with the MCAT prep seems to suggest she considered herself the other woman way back then.)  At some point, it moves from friendship to something more. Maybe you both jump in with both feet, no hesitation. Or, maybe you think about it and talk about it a lot before it happens. But at some point, it happens. You’re more than friends and new possibilities bloom. I’m betting it’s sort of exciting. Forbidden on some...

Do you not want to come home or do you think you can't?  I get that you love Wyoming. (Though I think experiencing your first winter there ... one that has already started, I see ... might change your mind.)  But Wyoming wasn't the reason you left everybody and everything behind.  Starting over sounds great until you realize that the crap that drove you to it follows you.  Or, is it really just to much work? Too much fight? Given the way you talk about hating your life, I don't think you're avoiding either by not addressing what's really wrong here.  But what do I know? I'm still convinced you really love me. And you've been living with someone else for three+ years. Clearly, I'm not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. 

I call it your pain face. When you are miserable, it’s there. It sits on your eyebrows, across your whole forehead. It’s literally almost a ledge. Your eyes sink deeper. The corners of your mouth turn down. Your chin drops. The past few times you were home, I could see it. I don’t know if anyone else notices it. I have mentioned it to a few people as I have been beginning to talk about this. But I see it. That night when I found the photo of you and her on Facebook, there it was. You were sort of half smiling, uncomfortably, and she looked beautiful. Happy. Leaning in, clutching at your arm. But you’re avoiding the heart of the camera. There’s no light in your eyes. There’s just that heaviness on your forehead. You know what the worst part is? It consumes and covers your eyebrows. Your beautiful, bushy, unruly, gloriously blond eyebrows. I miss those eyebrows so much.  

Remember your wedding ring? I have been looking for it, assuming it was here. But I can’t find it. Must mean you have it. Or it’s been tossed. In the photo on Facebook, she has a wedding band on. And you are covering up your left hand in what looks like to me a very purposeful way. Just makes me wonder if you wear it to seem married. To her. Part of me actually wonders if you have gotten married. I’d like to think that wasn’t possible, but we do still have that story of Kristy’s mom floating around that I have to reconsider now. Again. I remember talking about your ring in great detail more than once. At one point, you had left it here, I believe. You told me that you couldn’t wear it if you were driving full-time because when you had to fix stuff, it was dangerous. It bothered me. You had always liked wearing it … or so I thought. There was a day, I think it was around Christmas time, but I can’t be sure of that. We were discussing the holes in the story. I was feeling insec...

  JULY 3, 2020, 7:46 AM YOU: Gm. Princess, I hope your day is easy, I will check in later, love you me ME: I have to work. Ac is running like crazy. I hope you are safe. YOU: All good , and I love you ME: I love you too Jim. And I would love to start our new life together. YOU:  Agreed, and we will, dont work to hard , stay cool and I will IM ya later baby ..........................:...................................... JULY 31, 2020, 8:27 AM ME:  I hope your psoriasis is doing ok and i hope you have a good day. Lym YOU: My skin is ok, arthritis is good so far, and I hope you have a good day, I am heading east from Montana, I love you too, more then words can say. ................................................................ I read thes and I get lost all over again. The questions flood in my head, but I know I can't ask you. Did she give you an ultimatum, too? Did we both start pulling on you in opposite directions and you had to make a choice? Were you...

  I'm sitting here ... thinking how awesome a weekend this would have been if things were normal. The sky has been the bluest of blues. The clouds big and puffy, the starkest of white. The grass is so green, it looks lush and velvety. The long grass is fuzzy and lacy at the top, blowing in the breeze. It's barely 70 degrees, no humidity. Everyone has mowed, so you can smell the green-ness in the wind. The two clumps of pine trees you planted on the south end of the house are gorgeous. They're stout and sturdy, and look like a postcard. There's a new kildeer with a new nest in the driveway. I found her mowing yesterday. She's a brave little momma. Standing her ground, squawking so loud as I whizzed past. You gotta admire that kind of love. Under other circumstances, we would have worked outside most of the weekend. It would have been the perfect "Git 'er done" two days to get everything in shape so we could kind of slack off for a while. Sometimes...

Today when I told you about the Illinois DOT thing, you said you'd call me about it later.  I said I'd send you a photo of the letter so you could see it. You said there was no need to hurry ... that you trusted me.  The words rang in my ears.  I said, "Thank you for saying that last part." And you replied, "Well, I do." The words continued to reverberate in my head.  Isn't it funny, I thought, how you trust me with the money stuff, but you didn't trust me with your heart ... while I did not trust you with the money stuff, but completely trusted you with my heart.  I'm glad there's still trust there. It exists. Like a little light burning in the dark. 

 Yesterday, we received a letter from the Illinois Department of Transportation. I don't understand it, but what I think it says is that we didn't have insurance when Brian had that accident near Joliet.  If that's true, we owe someone $10K.  I wanted to call you as soon as I got it. But I didn't. I wanted to make sure when I talked to you about it I was calm.  The worst part wasn't the $10K. The worst part was I thought we had been having really good, constructive conversation over the past couple of days and I knew this was going to upset the apple cart again.  Part of me tried to just figure out how to pay it so I didn't have to bring it up. But that wouldn't be honest and it wouldn't be fair to either one of us.  I want you to know that I don't like having to tell you this stuff. I DO know how it affects you. My first instinct is to try and protect you from it ... still.  There was a time, when we were in the thick of it, that my first reaction w...

  Jim, This is hard to write. I’m not 100% sure you’ll read it. But, I have to try. First, I want you to know I care about you. In the old days, you know, like last week, I would not have hesitated to say I love you. But, at the moment, that feels much to vulnerable given all that has transpired in the past few days. The truth is, after loving someone with everything I have and everything I am for 20 years, those feelings don’t just switch off with even the greatest of transgressions tossed out into the stratosphere for all the world to see. My heart is lagging a bit behind my head at the moment. Secondly, I want you to know that I believe in you. I always have, even when I shouldn’t. I feel uniquely qualified to discern the truth that is in YOUR heart. There is a beautiful and dazzling light in there, even though it is buried deep and tangled in a lot of turmoil right now. So here’s what I want you to know. You matter. You matter. You matter. You matter. That means you...

 I'm not sure if you'll believe this, but my very first reaction when I saw the photo was one of relief. You were alive. You looked like you were eating and sleeping. You didn't appear to be living in your truck. And you had someone to watch out for you.  How sick is that?  My second reaction was not nearly as kind. In fact, I sent you a text that summarized my second reaction. I think it read, "You motherfucker."  I was honestly surprised by how fast and literally the photo took my breath away.  The questions started flooding into my head. Who is she? How long? Where are they? How could he? How could I not know? How dumb am I for believing him? How could he do this to me?  I wanted so badly to be mad ... only mad. But I couldn't muster it.  You know why? Because I was so very worried about you ... still.  I could see that look of pain on your face and I knew that Jim wasn't my Jim. Maybe that sounds dumb. But I know that look. It's misery. And fe...

 I don't know if you'll ever see this. But since I found your photo with her online, my world has been in a freefall. One photo led to literally hundreds of hours searching your name, her name, addresses, public records, social media, emails and so much more.  Why? Because I was so shocked, so surprised, so incredibly stunned, that I needed to find answers. A reason. A cause. Some solid ground.  Solid ground from where I could begin to build a little scaffolding that would help me claw my way back to the surface. I was almost certain you'd never talk to me again, so I had to find it on my own. Full truth, I'm not there yet. But I'm closer than I was.  The only way I could stop my head from spinning was to start writing. I've been writing a lot ... some good and some bad. Some where I'm mad and you're an asshole and some where I tell you how much I miss and love you and always will. There's no rhyme or reason for it. No order for what pops into my hea...