James G-... Rest in Peace

My marriage seems like a bad piece of fiction, half forgotten due to better written, more recent works.  Matt and I married in December, 1981... Yep, it was a long time ago.  At the time, his parents objected to the marriage.  We were too young.  They didn't know me, and quite frankly, didn't like what they knew about me. I drank too much; I knew too much about drugs.

James G- was my father in law for a little over a year.  He and I started badly.  Matt was his youngest son, sickly as a child, and spoiled as a teenager.  I was obviously a bad influence, since Matt was head over heels in love. 

They first realized I existed when Matt announced we were engaged...At the time, he was in the hospital for pneumonia.  I was visiting, and his mother couldn't understand why a friend would drive from Indianapolis in a snowstorm to visit. She was also probably annoyed that I was tiring him... when he should be healing.  She was right.  I shouldn't have come.  Ah, young, foolish love. 

Then there was the time my parents drove to Bloomington from Carmel to pick me up.  They were unhappy that I couldn't find someone going all the way to Indianapolis.  Matt and I planned it so our parents could meet.  Though we didn't tell them that was the plan.. Awkward.  I created a lot of the craziness in that life.

Mr. G-, I never could bring myself to call him Jim. was unhappy that I kept my maiden name, equally unhappy when I hyphenated the names.  At the end of the first year of marriage, it was on the rocks at the time, I conceded.. changing my name to his.

After less than a year, Matt and I separated.. I couldn't afford to support him anymore.. I could barely support myself.  We agreed we'd get back together.  Maybe we believed that. 

Then there was the phone call... Matt said, "My dad wants a divorce." 

and I replied, "What does your Mom say?"

"She agrees."

My parents had divorced the previous year, so I offered comfort.."That's hard. but my parents seem to be doing well with their divorce. So hopefully yours will be happy with theirs."

"No- they want us to get divorced."

"I didn't marry your father.  Why is HE asking me for a divorce?"

Eventually Mr. G- paid for the divorce, that was 28 years ago.  I hated it.  Understood why he was doing it.  There were probably legal issues I didn't understand then (we were breaking a lease, had minimal assets,)  If only... more time, more money, more something could have fixed that great romance.

In time, I grew used to the idea of being divorced at 23.  and life went on-  After a few years, there were others my age who were divorced.  

Last week I found his obituary.  He was an interesting man- a high ranking administrator, with a gift of saying the right thing when a camera was shoved in his face during tragic moments.  I remember him doing a local news spot when a university student was killed.

So I was Googling, and wondered about Mr. G-. He died last year. Matt wrote the obituary.  His daughter who wanted to be doctor is now a vet.  And I'm wishing I could sit down with him and tell him thank you.  

Thank you, and you were right, we were too young, I did drink too much.. and well, thank you.  For catching Matt when I couldn't hold him anymore... and for the tough love that I needed.  Thank you for paying for the divorce.  That gave me options and freedoms that I didn't appreciate.