I set the goal to look better at 40 than I did at 30. I've been working my ass off at the gym and at home in the pool. I am very excited and find the workout both therapeutic and addicting. I push myself so hard that, the truth is, I can't think of much other than how to reach my goal for that workout. I went looking for a good picture of me when I was thirty. And by good I mean a picture that really showed my body. Low and behold, none existed. I realize now that none exist in part because I was usually the one behind the lens, not in front of it, but also because your addiction started that year.
As I was looking through the albums, I found the scrapbook I had given to you for our second Christmas together. I remember how happy and grateful I was for our life. We'd been sealed, we expected our first child, and life seemed to be giving me all the blessings and joys that I had wanted and impatiently waited for. Heaven was ours, or so it seemed.
Sadly, the day prior I was looking for some lost shot records for the kids. In doing so, I came across letters and journal entries of mine that engulfed the time periods when your addictions and problems were there worst. When life was not giving to me all the blessings and joys that I deserved. When there was little I could do but hope that you'd take the necessary steps to change that.
I told you in March that I wanted to start dating again. Or was it May, I can't remember now. I actively joined an online dating site with mostly members of the church. I have met a few handfuls of people, exchanged emails or texts with some, talked on the phone to others, but really had no interest in anything other than getting to know them from a distance. Then I took the time to meet someone. Someone who really intrigued me and who after just one telephone conversation I felt connected to. Connected how, you ask, I am not sure. As no doubt you know, I met him in person last Saturday and have talked to him every day since. He is nothing like you. I knew before I met him that I wanted him to kiss me. In fact, I had decided that if he didn't, I was going to just tell him how to do it. Strange, but it was so amazingly awesome! I thought of you only once, and my thought was, "I can't believe I have no thoughts of Damon." Why, I don't know. I like to think it is because I deserve that. To move on with ease and enjoy life to the fullest.
In talking with my new "friend", I realized what a predicament I am in. I am actually not as old as I joke I am, I could out live you by multiple decades. Which means if I remarried, I could reasonably spend three or four decades with someone else and I could feasibly have more than one child. How can I date, and ask someone to love me, possiblyhave children with me, yet not give to them eternity. What seemed like such a blessing when you died, now feels like a harsh reality. You frequently stood in the way of my earthly happiness. Now in death, you still have that kind of hold. It angers me and I don't really know how to process that.
I tried to look for Ensign articles, or General Conference talks that might have discussed my current situations. Couldn't find any. It seems that young widows really have a bit of a gloomy outlook. All these articles and talks covered how to move on, to grieve, to meet financial obligations, and to have hope. I have already figured out all of those things, except the hope part. And it is work every day to meet the kids' every changing needs.
The reality is that we talked about divorce four months before you died. I started the papers then, and was working on them even the week before you died. I talked to your mother about the fact that it was a real possibility for us and that I was worried about you. You and I talked about separating just days before you died. The day you died I was so annoyed with you for being such an ass over something so stupid as my flu shot.
My problem is this: I love our kids and make their mental, emotional and spiritual health my number one priority. I think they'd all adjust if the time ever came for me to remarry. They'd probably even adjust to having more siblings. Truth is, I didn't want more kids, because I didn't want them with you. Cora was just one of those blessings you can't help but be grateful for. But I wouldn't know how to explain to them during their young years that while their sealing to you can never be broken by and act or inaction of mine, the time may one day come when I find remaining sealed to you is not what I want.
I don't know how to reconcile feeling this way. Because on the flip side I think, well, what if I remarry and he dies in a year, do I break that seal to marry yet again? I know the likelihood is slim, but the reality is, how do I face this decision if it ever comes about. How do I answer that when asked by people who want to love me?
And I am turned once again to being angry. It is unjust that even now you have such a negative influence over my happiness. And how sad is that, that I think our sealing could in any way be a negative influence? What a wreck we've created. I want you to fix it. I want you to put my needs above yours, for once in a very long time. I want you to do whatever has to be done so that one of two things happen: you see to it that I am able to find someone that accepts I am sealed to you; or two, let me go, and let me know that you are okay with that. That you understand that I deserve more than what you gave to me in the end. And find a way so that I can move on without guilt.
I will forever love you. I learned so many things from you. Some through great and joyous times, others through hell and a misery I pray I will never know again. Do this for me? Sooner than later please.
With all Love I Ever Gave You:
Mer
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