What it feels like, though, is that two people I love are throwing something sacred away. It’s not that I have some great idea about a Jesus-sanctioned union, but I do know what it’s like to be alone. I know how hard it is to be the only person who is responsible for taking the car to get its oil changed, for cooking breakfast, for mowing the yard. I know it’s hard, sometimes, to come home to a dark house.
Alternately, I know we are always essentially alone, in the dark hours of the soul, and to think that a spouse will make that go away is mere fantasy. I know that a spouse is not a panacea for all that ails the lonely beast, and if one has those expectations, one is going to be desperately disappointed. I know that it’s hard to still face those disappointments and keep getting up every day and making the coffee, to keep smelling the bad breath of the one who hasn’t healed you, to keep putting up with the moody tantrums of someone who refuses to fix the garage door. I know we like to think that marriage should have something to do with who you “love” or with whom you sleep. Maybe it does, in the beginning. But then there is the middle. And the end, in which neither of those things matter.
But I think you give your word when you get married. You give your word that you’re going to hang on through that, and that you’re not going to leave, and that you’re going to go to put up with your mother-in-law. You give your word that you will do every last thing you can possibly do to co-exist with this person, including making any number of sacrifices you never would have made otherwise.
You do that because if there is anything holy in this world, it is the gift of another human being who is willing to bind himself or herself to your sorry ass. You make that vow so that someone will be morally obligated to pick you up at the mechanic’s. You make that vow so there is someone else to fill out the paperwork when you have an abscessed tooth. You make that vow so that you will not have to stand alone in the pew at your father’s funeral.
It feels to me that if you have been given that gift, and it dies from neglect or squander, you make me want to puke. In your face.
[via Santiago Dreaming]
now that is breaking it down to real.
Powerful, powerful stuff. Also liked your Recognition poem very much.
well, there’s a lot assumed in the “if you have been given that gift” — often the ending of a relationship is largely realizing that you *weren’t* given that gift; that, say, you *gave* but were making it all work from your one side. and they have checked out, or were never there from the start, or are no longer willing to make the effort.
so I presume that the cruelty of “puke in your face” is tempered by the realization that you might be blaming the wrong person. or that maybe you aren’t in a position to blame anybody at all, from the outside.
I find a lot of life-affirming things here, but I know people whose spirits would be totally crushed by reading this, people who are already stomping on themselves everyday. sorry if I’m not touched…
Well, what is poignant about the last sentence is that it reflects the ache and anger of a single heart. This was an excerpt of someone else’s post, and the sentences prior describe the dissolution of a family member’s marriage. The marriage failed because of neglect and the refusal to seek counseling that might have helped.
From my experience and observation, it does seem as though many people enter marriage for reasons they don’t quite understand, and often are quick to end it when it gets stale or doesn’t live up to expectations. In a culture where it is common for people to “hook up” to have sex, relationships take on a more tenuous quality. This exerpt is a heart lamenting that.
To each her own.
Many of my thoughts, then and now, where articulated in this post. Thank you