 Image by CarbonNYC via Flickr |
For the second part of this entry, I will begin to refer to my husband under the pseudonym "Roman." Readers who know me personally may quiz at that choice of name, but it actually is a natural one - though admittedly, nothing close to his given moniker. We used to joke about his name being "Roman," after I had an unsettling dream before our wedding, where I dreamed that Roman was his real name. In the dream, I was upset to learn that I was fooled into thinking he had a different name all along, when everyone else but me knew his name was really Roman. Strange choice of names for my subconscious to decide upon, though looking back, I must have sensed early on, that he kept secrets; little did I dream at the time, that his name would be turn out to be the least of my worries...
Sunday came, and as expected, so too did my recently estranged husband for our planned visit. He came to the door and knocked, which really struck me, as just in the span of two weeks, he went from my husband who shared a life with me, to being to a visitor knocking at my door.
He was smiling when I answered the door; he seemed happy. There was a spring in his step and a certain look in his eye. It had been a while since I'd seen it, but I knew it well once. He had the giddiness and excitement of a person who recently found new love. Only, this time, it was not with me. It was obvious; he reeked of it. But I decided in that moment, that I had not called him over to press him again to come out with it, which he clearly had no intention of doing - so I focused rather, on what had been my original purpose for calling him - that being simply to talk and have him collect his personal possessions.
I wanted things to be amicable, no matter what the outcome. That much I knew for sure. And Roman was relieved when I expressed my goal of maintaining civility. Of course, knowing what I know now, he had reason to fear another potentially volatile reaction from me, if I had known the whole truth at that time.
We decided to go for a walk and proceeded down a neighborhood path we had taken many times before. It was a nice sunny day and we talked easily as we walked. He showed a maturity that day, which I'd often sought before, but never found. Concern for his siblings, or any family for that matter, was never something he expressed openly until he brought it up along the way. One brother in particular, Stuart, was on his mind. Stuart was probably the sibling he was closest with and was the sibling who was most like Roman in personality.
At that time, Stu was still living at home with their mom, well into his 30's, without any apparent ambition to move forward. Roman said he hoped to take some time to get to know Stu better, now that they were both home with mom, and further said he hoped to perhaps help Stu get better established in the grown up world. It was nice to see that side of Roman, since one of my primary issues in our marriage was his lack of regard for family - be it mine, his, or our potential future family together. But that day he showed he cared, and it saddened me that I was only now being privy to this side of him. Nonetheless, I continued forward with our rare, connected conversation, instead of pausing to bemoan my personal disappointment over what would have been, or could have been, but turned out not to be.
We finished our walk and ended up back in the kitchen of my apartment. In the past, I often held back initiation of conversations based on emotion with Roman, because he was generally so clinical in his thinking, and therefore critical of me in response. Though, on this particular day, I didn't care what he thought of me; I had some things to say and I wanted him to listen, like it or not. During the week that he was away, I reflected a lot on my role in the breakdown of our marriage. I told him accordingly, that I was sorry if I was withdrawn at times, sorry if I took him for granted, sorry if I made him feel small, sorry for stressing out so much about school, and sorry for worrying so much when we didn't have a lot of money in the beginning.
Initially, as expected, he tried to shut me down, saying he "screwed up our marriage" alone and that I had "nothing to be sorry for." And though, while I accepted and appreciated his words, I persisted in grabbing at MY opportunity to clear MY conscience of any wrong doing, even though I previously did so at the time without consciously knowing it. I went on and explained that his time away during the week had given me new perspective on things, which was comforting because it affirmed to me that I was going to be okay starting a new life without him. Lightheartedly, I then joked that seeing his clothes in the apartment all week, began to make me feel "haunted by his ghost." A remark I made that would actually end up haunting me to this day. Of all phrases to choose...little could I know.
Roman listened at my insistence and said he understood where I was coming from, then thanked me for my sincerity. In response, he continued with the expression he began a moment before when he tried to silence my words of remorse. "No need for you to be sorry," he reiterated, then went on, "you were good to me, Sunny. You did not deserve this. I'm sorry...I'd like to see a therapist to help me understand why I did all this...why I did this to you..."
Fighting back tears, I nodded and said, "We had something good once, I'm just really sorry you no longer saw its value." Roman paused, nodded, and said, "I love you...I'm sorry." I told him I loved him too and said I was grateful for this opportunity to talk candidly, unlike we'd done much before. He agreed. In that moment I wanted to hug him, but I didn't do it for fear of seeming weak and needy. He then proceeded to pack up some of his belongings, while I began making dinner for myself.
It took Roman about 45 minutes to pack most of his things into his car. At about the same time that he finished, I was just sitting down to eat my dinner. Being polite, I reluctantly offered him a serving, though I felt it was no longer my wifely duty to care. And in truth, at the time, I didn't want him to share the meal I had prepared. No matter, he declined my offer anyway, saying, "I haven't had much of an appetite these last couple days...I actually lost four pounds this week."
In that instance, I actually thought nothing of his reply, but later that statement would bring me to my knees with guilt for secretly not really wanting to share a dinner at the time and over not insisting he eat something anyway. He was thin as a rail already, I should have been alarmed that he was loosing weight so rapidly; but logically, I know now that there was no way I could have anticipated at that moment, that he had less than 24 hours to live. Not in my wildest nightmares.
Looking back, I remember vividly those last moments. I was sitting cross legged on the floor, with my home made pizza on a plate before me on the coffee table; looking up at him as he spoke. He was tall, thin, and scruffy; he hadn't shaved in a few days at least. Wearing a pair of camouflage shorts and a light blue t-shirt I had recently purchased for him on my credit card before he dropped a bombshell on me, he turned and headed for the door.
I told him to call me during the week so we could work out how to pay for his counseling co-payments, since our bank account was still joined. And once more, as I watched him leave, I successfully fought back the urge to get up and hug him before he left. Upon reaching for the door, Roman looked back at me, said okay about getting in touch later that week, said bye, and left. It was the last time I saw him alive. I wish I would have hugged him like I wanted to...but how could I have known that I would never get the chance again?
He died the next evening while out for a routine jog after work. While learning of his sudden death, everything I had come to terms with up to that point, was instantly scrapped and cast aside. And all that I thought lay ahead for me in my new life, once again, changed in a flash...Lifted, without warning, like the cash rich wallet of a disoriented tourist, straight into the thieving hands of gypsies. Poof! Just like that....Gone.
I found myself again, in a now familiar feeling of autonomic chaos within my body and mind. Bracing myself for impact once more, after answering the phone and processing the brevity of the devastating news being sprung upon me; I thought it could not be real. I thought it was a sick joke...It had to be a sick joke. But nobody was laughing - and for the second time in two weeks, I was again a helpless passenger going down with the plane. Only this time the tailspin was worse than anything I'd ever known before. No, this was much, much, much worse...
The Smiths - This Night Has Opened My Eyes
1 comment:
I was so very deeply moved. I sat with tears in my eyes from the first revelation of Roman. I felt a wrenching in my gut as I read of his revelation and its consequences. I, of course, had a much different concept of his death and your experience. To find that what I had seen as your sense of a deep loss and to see you over the years, admittedly not through deep conversation, but, still...then...to read the truth of what had happened, to begin to grasp the intensity of the chain of events that unfolded over that week was a powerful, rocking experience. To feel that intensity as I read, inevitably leaves me with the sense that the force of the actual experience would be so profoundly disorienting, saddening and infuriating. That all came through in your writing, but it also came through in my own experience of reading it. I can only sense the fringe of how life-altering this experience this would leave be.
Sunny, aside from all of that, the skill you have exhibited in the exquisite, and I know what an odd word that is for such pain, but the exquisite expression of your experience. There were certain sentences that just leaped off of the screen in searing fashion so that I had to reread them to overcome their shuddering emotional effect in order to grasp their cognitive meaning.I am left with deep compassion and deep respect for you. Your ability to express this experience so, so...articulately in such a small space, to evoke its emotional impact on you is...impressive seems so weak, but impressive. I knew you were a writer from your humor on FB, but here you are a writer of deep sensitivity, stunning clarity and evocative expression. I write this now somewhat removed from my first impression, although I read it again before writing. You have an exceptional talent, but more than that, you are an exceptional person in the ability you have shown to stand aside and look at this experience, make sense of it, at least as much sense as can be made, and share it with the rest of us. This was very kind of you and I know it will help others to cope with deception and loss. I hope we can talk some time, and I am hopeful that you might also share some of the events, internal and external, that you experienced along the way as you restructured your life. Thank you for this.
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