First of all, I stole
this title. I would love to take credit for it because it’s so perfect, but in
fact it’s something Beau said in the wake of his father’s death.
I would also like to
admit that this is awkward. I was the ex-wife. We had been divorced for many
years, my choice. Yet when these events unfolded, somewhere beyond the aching
in my heart for each of the grieving children, I realized that there were a
number of other feelings stirring within me. Being a writer, I decided to
explore these feelings by putting the proverbial pen to paper in the form of a
letter…
Dear
Alan,
When
we met, I was a newly saved, misfit teenager. I was looking for a new life…
adventure… love. You came to a Bible study I attended, and spoke about how God had
delivered you from drugs and alcohol. You seemed so confident, so sincere and
grateful. I remember looking at you with starry eyes, and thinking that I had
never heard such a testimony in person before.
Sadly,
your deliverance was short-lived and you soon relapsed. I forgot my fascination
with you and became best friends with your sister. I continued to seek God,
although I longed for a boyfriend who would share my faith. Obviously, you and
I did get together at some point – I’m not really sure how long after our
original meeting. I do remember that I invited you to a school dance, and we
had a lot of fun. I think I had some idea that I could be the hand that pulled
you up and led you back into the fold.
Instead,
I ended up on a roller coaster ride with you. Our years together had highs,
yes; but there were also many plunges into dark places. From the beginning, you
let me know I was not who or what you wanted, but basically that you would
settle for me. I was willing to accept that. I always felt I was never quite who
or what my mother wanted either, but I still believed she loved me. You also made
me feel loved. I dealt with whatever insult or injury you chose to dish out and
tossed away my dreams in exchange for that feeling. I believe you did love me
as much as you were capable in your own brokenness.
We
had good times when we walked together with God, but most occasions were
tainted by your delusions and my fear of what might happen next. I was always
afraid to be happy, because whenever I let my guard down, there seemed to be a
sucker-punch waiting. Yet I adored you. I prayed for you daily. And I realize
that I wasn’t blameless. I never once stood up for what I believed. I said and
did what I thought you wanted me to say and do, because I wanted to make sure
you kept on loving me. I enabled you and failed our kids all throughout our
marriage.
Then,
of course, came the time when I realized that the only reason I was still with
you was because I was afraid to leave. This was followed by the time when I met
someone else who told me he loved me and I lost that fear.
You
know, just a few weeks before your death, I was at a women’s conference. The
theme was “Remedy”, and we discussed how God is the remedy no matter what our
ailment. Throughout my life, I have looked for healing in so many other places.
As a teenager, I looked to you as a remedy, and when I gave up on our marriage,
I decided Guy was the cure for my shattered soul.
At
this conference, we also discussed forgiveness. We were challenged not only to
choose to forgive others, but also to search our own hearts and see if we needed
to ask forgiveness from someone else. You came to my mind. I don’t know that I
would ever have actually asked you in person, because… well that would have
been awkward. You had spent over twenty years convinced that I would one day
come back to you, and for me to approach you and ask forgiveness might have
given you the wrong impression. But I would like to ask you now, Will you
forgive me? I committed adultery, ended our marriage and broke up our family.
At the time, I felt justified. Maybe I was justified to get out of the
situation I was in, but I didn’t do it the right way, and I’m sorry.
Ironically,
that’s when you figured out how much you really did love me.
I
couldn’t reconcile with you, though. Yes, it was mostly because of Guy. He was
my fairy tale prince and I couldn’t bear to think of life without him. But I
would have been afraid anyway, I think, even though after I left, you once
again gave your life to Christ. I knew how easily you could flip from one side
to the other, which unfortunately continued for the rest of your life.
I
regret disobeying God, but He blessed me so much more than I deserve
regardless. He gave you and I such amazing kids, and you did a good job
teaching them how to be saved. I have two wonderful sons from my second
marriage, and I can’t regret them. Even Guy came to faith in Jesus before his
death, and I don’t think that would have happened if he and I had never gotten
together. He was a good husband, and Matt once said, “He taught me to respect
my mom”.
Despite
everything, I don’t regret my time with you, and I have long since forgiven you
for any wrongs. I remember that for some reason, we hugged each other last
Thanksgiving. At the time, it was slightly uncomfortable for me, because I saw
so much emotion in your face. But now, I’m glad we did, since it was to be the
last time we were together. I’m glad you didn’t die violently. I’m glad you
didn’t die when you lived alone on the streets and no one knew where you were. I’m
glad you knew your family cared about you.
I
surprised myself by crying at the news of your death. At first I thought it was
only for the kids. But as I probed my heart, I understood that a small part of
me will always love you. I also shed tears of regret for what could have been
and should have been. And you know, I never thought I would miss your obsession
with getting me back, but knowing you were gone from this world, I felt a
little less loved. Then I realized that only now are you truly capable of love.
You are finally free from the demons that pursued you during your time on this
earth.
I’m
glad I know that you were saved. When I see you again, there will be no pain or
bitterness between us; no awkwardness between you, Guy or Roger. There will
only be joy as we worship our Lord along with our kids and all our other loved
ones. You are home now, and I will be there soon.
Candy
 | ||
| Went home April 8, 2015 |
