October 11.....

I miss my dad.......

October 11, 1986 ... 25 years ago ... I got married ... I was 23 years old ... what the hell did I know.  I thought I knew it all ... thought I was worldly and experienced ... I went to Massachusetts College of Art and I worked at Ann Taylor on Newbury Street, I'd traveled to Ireland and France ... what more did I need to know.  We were best friends in high school and he loved me ... that's all I needed to know.  I don't think we were the first young couple that thought ... this is it ... and it wasn't it.  I spent a few hours this morning lounging in bed (after taking Jenna to the airport at 5:15 a.m.) I was so tired and couldn't fall asleep ... I decided to read some of the letters.  I have this box that was up on a shelf in a closet ... all taped up ... waiting for me for the past 20 odd years.  Recently I took it down after Joe and I split ... I remember when I taped it up thinking "shouldn't I just throw this out, isn't it weird to hold on to his things and letters if we're divorced," but something made me keep it.  I've spent a great deal of time just thinking about my life in the last 7+ months ... trying to figure it all out ... and who I really am ... what I really want ... The box still has a hint of scent of English Leather after shave ... I had read a few when I first opened the box a few months back and they didn't seem to bother me ... something about the anniversary date made it sad ... The reason I picked the date of October 11 was because that was the date my mom's parents got married.  My grandfather died a few months before I was born ... I was comfort in a dark time for my grandmother and I spent my childhood following her everywhere.  She called me shadow because I was always with her.  Until the day she died if she talked about my grandfather she would cry ... even funny stories about him her eyes would brim with tears.  I thought if I got married on that day I would have that kind of love.  That's how 23 year old girls think ... sunshine and roses.  I wasn't prepared for the reality of it all ... the fights ... the tears ... the end.  I lived with him in Italy for 11 months and then came home before him to help my mom take care of my Nana ... she died of cancer September 20, 1987.  We got married on what would have been her 50th wedding anniversary.  I'm just glad she never knew how bad the marriage was ... my pain would have broken her heart.  After reading some of those letters this morning I decided the guy did love me a one point ... we were young and he made some bad choices and he didn't know how to control himself ... and that's it.  We were great friends  when we were young and that's what I've always missed, the friendship we had.  I have not spoken to him in over 20 years.  He is married and has 2 grown daughters and I truly hope he is happy.  That's what I hope for Joe too.  You can't really care for someone for so long without hoping they are happy ... maybe that makes me a sucker ... but I sleep just fine.