I recently learned that my ex-husband passed away. The news struck me like a stone. My feelings were a strange mix, my sadness multi-layered, and all of it took me down a road I had not traveled for a very long time.

My ex-husband, Brent, found me at a time in my life when my heart had been completely broken and my self-confidence shattered. I was deeply depressed, taking too many risks, and making unhealthy choices. Brent came along and became a steadying influence.  He was smart, confident, and a popular guy on campus. He was as charming as he was aloof, drove a hot car, was a total card shark, pool hustler, skilled chess player, and impressively well read. I’d never known anyone like him and I found him intriguing. When he asked me out I was surprised and flattered.

He swept me into his circle of friends who were the most varied group of folks belonging to any young man I knew.  His crowd included childhood friends, fraternity brothers, locals from an out of the way beer joint and pool hall, a wounded Vietnam veteran, a sweet family who owned a small grocery, a curmudgeonly newsstand owner, a nice lady who owned a hobby shop, an elderly watchmaker, and an old lady who needs her own fairy tale simply because her name is Polly Peterfish. Brent was a constant surprise and an amazing fellow. I wish we had just stayed friends because he was someone fun to know and he cherished his friends. But it’s hard to remain friends when your marriage has fallen apart.

I refuse to paint him as a bad guy although I confess that I did at first – mostly because it kept me from looking at myself.  The truth is that we both hurt each other and we lacked clarity and maturity. It is true that Brent had quite a temper but I pushed all of his buttons – that is for sure! Besides I was an unacknowledged emotional wreck and he wound up with damaged merchandise that he had no idea how to fix.

There were many things about our marriage that were good and it warms my heart to think of them.  We could talk for hours about any number of things – most especially literature. We liked the same kind of music ranging from classical to Rock’n Roll.  Brent was a huge history buff who also loved the town he grew up in and knew its history well – often regaling me with a story about its ancestors, architecture, or geography. We enjoyed spending Sundays exploring the Shenandoah Valley or the Blue Ridge Parkway.  And we both loved a picnic, which we combined with those explorations. Our Friday night ritual was cooking something special – like oysters or steak – or trying a new recipe that we’d found earlier in the week.  Brent had a wicked sense of humor and could make me laugh even when I didn’t want to.  So what happened?  Honestly, there was not one simple thing that I could point to. What I am wise enough to know now is that another person cannot make you happy when you are not happy way down deep. And way deep down I was miserable and only I could fix that – only I didn’t know that then nor did I know how to go about it. 

My actions and feelings during our marriage plagued me for years after our relationship ended. It is no wonder that one night I had a particularly disturbing dream about Brent. The dream was charged with symbolism – including a long, winding road, mountains, a fence, signs I couldn’t read, and finding my wedding ring lying on a stone wall.  On waking, it was so clear and so distressing that I could not but wonder and worry that something had happened to him. I pushed down my fear and any reticence and bravely called him on the phone.  I was both relieved and terrified when he answered.  I took a deep breath and launched into my reason for calling him – basically that I’d had a dream that had me worrying something was wrong. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I imagined him thinking, “yep, she’s still crazy.”  But he surprised me by addressing me in a very gentle tone. He thanked me for calling to check on him and thanked me for thinking of him. He said that he was perfectly fine and was sorry that I’d had a bad dream but was glad that it had pushed me to call him because he had been thinking of me and wanted to know that I was doing well. He went on to say that he had long wanted to apologize for anything that he had ever done to hurt me – that he’d never meant to – that, in fact, he had loved me very much and was sorry for how things had ended.  How could I not apologize for my own contribution to the downfall of our marriage?  Tears flowed down my face but it felt more like a dam breaking. We talked about where we were currently in the world and it seemed that both of us had managed to find a life apart that was happy and good.  I was never so glad to have had a bad dream and equally glad to have acted from a purely gut feeling. Our conversation had a good outcome that I believe pleased the both of us.

That phone conversation could have been the last time we ever connected. But it wasn’t. Some years later my now husband and I took my mother to visit her sister in the Shenandoah.  My husband wanted me to give him a tour of my old haunts and that is how we ended up in Staunton,Va. I drove by a couple of places I had worked, beautiful Gypsy Hill Park, my old apartment, my old house, and, of course, we drove by the famous birthplace of President Woodrow Wilson – which happens to be located near Mary Baldwin College.  As we drove along the beautiful tree lined streets I pointed it out and mentioned that my ex-husband worked there as the Director of Computer Services. My husband said that I should go in to speak to him and he parked the car. I thought it was funny at first but then I realized that he wasn’t joking. Then I thought to myself, “why not?” And that’s how I found myself walking to the Administrative Buildings and asking directions to Computer Services – which turned out to be very easy to find.

I walked into the Computer Services Department to find a sunny secretary at the reception desk asking how she could help me. I asked if the Director was in and could I see him.  She quickly buzzed his office and announced that he had a visitor. He said “sure” and she pointed to the door of his office.  I admit that I had a moment when I thought I should run, not walk, right back to the car and skedaddle right out of town.  But I bravely stepped through the door to find Brent behind a large desk but with his back turned toward me. I checked that I was wearing a smile and tried to calm my hammering heart.  Brent swiveled his chair to face me and the minute he saw me he leaned back putting his hands behind his head, smiled, and said as casually as if he had just seen me the day before, “Well, hello, Darlin’ – what brings you here?” The guy was his ultimate cool self and I remembered why I’d been attracted to him all those years ago. It steadied me and we fell into a comfortable conversation. When he realized my current husband was outside in the car he leapt up and said, “Well, I’d like to meet him.”  And that was how these two guys ended up driving around town together as if they’d been friends forever. Brent was full of historical information, of course, which delighted my husband. It was surreal. When we dropped Brent back at the college he hugged me good-bye and whispered in my ear, “I like him.”  It made me laugh because in many ways they were so similar – it just made sense.

Brent and I connected on Facebook – which, even though his posts were rare, it allowed me to peek into his life. He lived a good life with a wife and two daughters. His daughters seemed to share his sense of humor and I could tell they were close. I have no idea if he peeked into my life. Our connections were mostly birthday and holiday good wishes. At one point I noticed that he and his wife had just completed a cross-country trip to the Grand Canyon some months prior to my husband and I planning our own trip out West. I emailed Brent asking for tips and his itinerary. I wasn’t surprised to see that my current husband had planned almost the exact same itinerary allowing for similar drive times and rest stops. On our return home I reconnected with Brent by email thanking him for his travel tips. After that our connection resumed its regular cadence. I could always count on hearing from him on my birthday.  Well, that is until last year. I noticed the absence of his greeting but that was it. When December rolled around I went to his page to wish him a happy birthday and that’s when I saw it.  His daughters had turned his page into a Memoriam for their dad. I was shocked and sad and a myriad of other feelings as well.  I was compelled to reach out to his daughter through Facebook Messenger to express my condolences. She was sweet and gracious and clearly heartbroken. I wished I could have hugged her. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to her about her dad but I felt I’d said what was socially acceptable. Anything more could have gone wrong.

What I can say now without reservation is that my first husband was a good man and I am glad for having known him. He added to my life a rich experience that, however painful, helped me grow into the person I am now. And these days I like myself, which certainly wasn’t true all those years ago. Grieving for an ex-husband is weird so I haven’t said much until now – but I acknowledge my sadness as well as my love for him. The world is not the same without him in it.  I liked thinking of him holding down his corner of it as only he could.