When I was single, my mother told me to marry someone who loved me more than I loved him. She thought that I had a lot of love and patience to give and felt I would be happiest with a man who showed me his love. I didn’t follow her advice and married the one I had to chase. I lived with an alcoholic husband for 14 years, and he died at 45 from the disease.
One of our daughters followed the same path and died at 39 from the same alcohol and drug abuse. I still think of the man before my husband, the one I let slip through my fingers. He was in the service and used to hitchhike to get to my house in sunshine, rain, or snow. I had it all and was too young to realize it. I was looking for something that was right in front of me.
Recently, my parents came to spend time with their grandson while my husband and I headed for the Florida Keys for some alone time. Just before leaving for the trip, with bags packed and tempers high, I told my father, “I’m leaving for Key West; I will either come back divorced or make amends.”
My Irish father firmly said, “Make amends!” and slammed the door as we stood outside our home with our bags before heading to the airport. We got the point. Sometimes, it really is that simple and is truly a choice. You only need your parents to remind you.