Living Happily Ever After

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Wake Up Fresh And Continue

“The day before is what we bring to the day we’re actually living through, life is a matter of carrying along all those days-before just as someone might carry stones, and when we can no longer cope with the load, the work is done…” (Jose Saramago, “The Cave”)

And then it was the day before my wedding.

Those months of soul searching following the revelations that led to my unexpected life; the shock, grief and loneliness that had once been mine day in and day out during the aftermath of an unexpected divorce and move to a new state; the dating, the bachelors, the going it alone without parents or a partner came to a screeching halt.

I was getting married the very next day–if all went well.

It was a bit more complicated than the first time, though. I didn’t just have to show up at the ceremony, packed and ready to depart on a honeymoon afterward, without a care in the world.

I had to finish my work and meet some deadlines. I had grand plans to make a wedding gift for #5 and had procrastinated finishing it, so I had to get that done. I had to arrange for childcare while I was gone. I had to make sure my house was clean enough for someone to stay in during my absence and for #5 to move in to when we returned from our honeymoon. I had to make sure financial details were taken care of and that there was food in the house for my children while I was gone. I had to make sure I had not just my wedding dress and was packed for a honeymoon, but I had to make sure my children’s wedding clothes, etc…were clean, and packed, as well! LOTS of details to remember and attend to.

But I did it. I worked all day, rushed home, went to the bank, went to the grocery store, did laundry, packed, loaded the car with everything I needed to take to Ephraim, Utah, including my younger children, drove there and arrived safely that night. My sisters and their families helped with final wedding preparations. I even finished #5′s wedding gift that night, thanks to help from my sister. And after all of that, I was still in bed by midnight or 1 a.m..

My last night as a single woman was also very different than the first time. The first time, in the 1980s, I was in a hotel room with my mom and my sisters, so nervous I couldn’t sleep. My mom gave me a tranquilizer to calm me down but it didn’t help and my sister and I lay awake in bed, talking and laughing, until the wee hours of the morning. (Actually, we didn’t go to sleep until my mom reprimanded us, just like she had when we were little girls!)

But in 2011, the night before my wedding, I slept alone. In my sister’s basement. (Although she came to check on me once or twice through the night.) And I was so relaxed and calm I couldn’t believe it. I went to sleep and actually slept! However, I woke up unexpectedly at some point in the night.

I couldn’t sleep.

And then I couldn’t quit thinking. Even worse, I was thinking about things I never expected to think about–and it was hard to think about some of it: dreams I’d had as a little girl; experiences I’d shared with my parents, knowing they weren’t alive to share one of my most important of experiences, marriage to #5; everything that had led me to the new marriage opportunity, including the shocking revelations, the Ponzi scheme, the divorce, the move, the aloneness, everything I had been through and everything I had learned.

It was sort of a life in review. I think it was me, Andrea Merriman, doing some introspection on the eve of one of the most important events of my life. Allowing myself to look back one final time. I had forgiven, I had healed and was continuing to heal. I guess I was making sure I’d made peace with it all; getting ready to take a major step forward. I couldn’t help it; I had one final, brief, cry. And I went back to sleep, knowing the next time I awoke, it would be my wedding day.

“But the important thing is to lie down and fall asleep. That little nap means you wake up fresh again and can continue.” (James Levine)

And Dinner Was Served

“Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and its our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you’d like to have dinner with.” (Kathleen Mifsud)

Unless you’re #5 and you start out mature (ie. older) and YOU do the stomping by dumping your fiancee BEFORE dinner! It happened like this…

On that fateful Sunday night, #5 had invited his family to my home for dinner. He arrived early to help with preparations, all of our children were in the basement and we were in my kitchen. Somehow we got on the subject of two children (one of his, one of mine) and we had a disagreement.

“Thus, we see that one of the obvious origins of human disagreement lies in the use of noises for words.” (Algred Korzbyski)

He dug his heels in in defense of his son, I dug my heels in in defense of my son, and things degenerated from there. It got so petty we even argued about the boys’ ages. When I suggested his son was the older child so he should set more of the example, he corrected me, saying his son was just one year older so they were basically the same age. In a burst of maturity I got even more petty by correcting the age difference: “Well, if you’re going to get so specific and picky about it, your son is actually 19 MONTHS older–and two years older in school!” (Wow. 19 months. Two years in school.  That’s a lifetime. Petty, I know.)

Unexpectedly, he stood up and said he would get his son and leave. He had NEVER done that before, by the way. He turned and walked out of the room. I stood there, alone in my kitchen, stunned.

I was dumbfounded.

Leave? Because of a disagreement? When his family was due to arrive any minute? We hadn’t had many disagreements our entire engagement–I think I’ve chronicled all two of them–but he headed to the basement to call his son. For some reason, I followed him.

“You’re just going to leave?” I asked.

He was. He said he was sorry, but that he just couldn’t do it anymore. That maybe the timing was bad. That he’d never planned to get married until his son was 18, but then he’d met me and it had changed everything. However, after all of the time we had spent together and during the course of our long engagement, there were things that hadn’t changed and he didn’t know what else to do–so he was leaving.

I was appalled. “You’re going to leave, without even fighting FOR us?”

Before he could answer, in the pause, the doorbell rang.

His family.

It was like a bad movie.

Too late to leave, #5 expressed his displeasure with a roll of his eyes, muttered, “Oh, CRAP!” and then kicked into performer/entertainer mode. He answered the door with a smile, acted like everything was fine and normal, was friendly to everyone (except me) and prepared to serve dinner. Unfortunately, I’m not an actress.

His brother walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Andrea, are you all right?” To which I lied, “Yes, fine!” He looked at me, puzzled, and asked again, “Are you sure? You look tired or something.” I changed the subject and carried on. Or attempted to, anyway.

Later, as the kids came up for dinner, my high school son walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Mom? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

And dinner was served.

“Here they are, top of the food chain, and dinner is served.” (Jeffrey Jones, “The Devil’s Advocate”)