Twice in a lifetime

Most people spend their whole lives looking for "true love", many times missing it because they fail to see the forest through the trees. I've been lucky enough to find it twice. I've had two men come into my life and fill it with a love so true it sets my world on fire. One of these men is the man I am marrying this summer, the other is a man I was with for fifteen years. Two amazing love stories, in the middle of an ordinary life.

I met the first love of my life, Mark, when we were in High School (I was 16), through a mutual friend. We were completely different individuals, I came from a big loving family, and lived in a nice neighborhood. He came from a small private family, and a neighborhood in Brooklyn that I wasn't even allowed to go to. I was devouring all the books I could find, while he cut class, and spent his weekends tagging up train stations. We were two kids from different worlds, but with similar ideas about where we wanted our future to go. We fell deeply in love, a love so bright it consumed everything else in my life.

Mark graduated high school a year before me, and enlisted in the Army. I missed him like crazy, but we had a plan, one that included getting married, and living on base. Life had other ideas. He was away for a year, and one day while on assignment, he was severely injured. The injury resulted in the loss of his left eye. He was flown into Walter Reed , and surgery was done to remove his beautiful, but now damaged eye. I was in shock, and devastated that I wasn't by his side. His parents where flying down, and they offered to pay for my ticket, if my parents would allow me to go. I remember begging, and pleading with my mom, tears streaming down my face, to please please let me go. Life could not be so cruel as to keep me from him at this crucial moment. She had her doubts, but in the end relented and gave me permission to go.

I remember looking into his damaged eye, which now resembled a shattered pain of glass, and crying, promising each other eternal love. We held each other as the reality that he would not have a left eye, of all the changes that meant, set in. I recall men in uniforms coming into his room before his surgery, words being said, and a medal awarded to him. It was all seen through a hazy fog of shock and disbelief. The doctors told us how he would have to learn to walk again, and do things we took for granted, as his brain adjusted to having no vision on the left side.

After the surgery Mark was in a dark place, he was depressed, more so because he had to remain at Walter Reed for another 3 months before he was cleared to leave. I would write to him daily, and on the phone I would tell him stories of Job and all the trials he went through in the Bible, of others who had also suffered greatly. Little by little he came out of his depression, he came home, and our love deepened. We made it, and now began planning for our future, one different than the one we had in mind, but as long as we were together that was fine.

Two things happened during this time that I only see now in hindsight. The first is that Mark began to see me as a saint, as someone so perfect that they could do no wrong. He placed me on a pedestal and heaped love and praise upon me. The second is that he became afraid to try anything new without me, in fact though I only realize this now, he stopped doing anything at all unless I was involved. Essentially he became a hermit, only I didn't see it because when I was around him we were always out and about.

I was 20 at this point and we had been together for 4 years. We both lived with our parents, and though we were in love and planning ahead, something began happening to me. I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, or why, but suddenly I was quite sure that I didn't want to end up one of those women who only slept with one man all their life. I got an itch that I just had to scratch. Since I lived in NYC, and spent weekends going out partying with my friends, it wasn't long before I found someone to scratch it.

I won't get into details, as that's another story entirely, but I met a ruggedly handsome Irish man, and started what turned into a year long affair. It was a hot and steamy relationship filled with drama, and lies. During this time I lived in Queens with my parents, and Mark still lived in Brooklyn, so it was easy to keep the affair from him. Mark however, had had it with living at home, and wanted to move in together as soon as possible. I found us an apartment, ended my crazy affair, and announced to my family that I was moving out.


We got an apartment a few blocks from my mothers house and began our life. Oh man what a life. It was amazing. In our small cozy apartment our love blossomed, and grew into something new. Our bond deepened as we adjusted to life together. I learned to cook, and became a regular little Martha Stuart, with cookies always baking, and sumptuous meals. But still things weren't perfect. Mark hated my parents, and wouldn't allow them to visit (looking back I have NO IDEA why I didn't put my foot down on this), he also didn't like my friends too much, so it was just us. Looking back I now see he was insecure, and afraid to let the world in.  Instead of my friends coming over, I went to their houses (a lot). I also began drinking more often, something that later on would turn into full blown alcoholism. Mark began to raise my pedestal higher and higher, elevating me to a status of perfection that I tried to live up to each and every day. It was like I had two lives, my life with Mark, and my other life, where I drank, hung out at bars, and went out with my friends.

Years passed in this fashion, with me living two lives. The only difference was we moved two more times, and added traveling to our life. We went on 8 cruises together during these years, we explored the Caribbean, and had marvelous adventures. We stumbled upon Blackbeard's grave on a private Island in the Bahamas, we zip-lined in Haiti, and downed a bottle of Mama Juana on the beaches of Samana, DR., we went snorkeling, and fell in love with St. Thomas. It was amazing, and all throughout our love grew, and changed. Everything was great, as long as we were traveling. Now I realize that's because it was always just us, and people who we never saw or spoke to again, so it was easy for Mark to enjoy himself.  When we came home it was back to our separate lives. We did a lot together, went to eat at the best restaurants, gave each other amazing gifts, but it was all decoration.

In reality the relationship we started when we were just kids, had morphed and changed into something we simply refused to see. We were best friends, and yes we did love each there deeply, but we were no longer the same two kids that fell in love. We had started to grow in separate directions, yet we were in deep denial about it. I think now, that we were both afraid of what life without each other would be like. So instead we continued to travel, and even started planning a wedding. Yes we were that much n denial. Then came that damn itch again, subtle but always there, perhaps a way of telling myself I wasn't happy.

Mark's idea about my perfection had grown to such proportions that I found it hard to be at home at all. I felt like a Stepford wife, down to the cocktail hour, and the fancy aprons. It was becoming unbearable. So it helped that my job in marketing kept me far from home for must of the day. I was slowly coming to the realization that Mark was no longer in love with me, he was in love with this vision of me he had in his mind, and the real me, with all my faults, could never compete with that. I was in love with the kid who I met in high school, the man who I'd helped through the darkest hours of hi life, but that man was no longer there. It was hard to even think about this, so instead I drank a lot, turning my back on the whole problem, as if it would just go away. I couldn't bear to consider that I'd lost my soul mate, that the man who said our love could create miracles (yes, we loved the Notebook) might not be with me forever.

We grew further and further apart, as my work took up more of my time, and I started looking for excuses not to come home right away. During this time,  was working on a marketing campaign for Home Depot, and it involved me going personally to the stores in the Westchester area. It was here that while God was gently closing one door, he was also opening another. I was walking the store with a friend and fellow coworker (That's you Trecia!), going over the importance of talking to the customers, and went to emphasize that point by approaching one, when Fate smacked me in the face. He had the most amazing hazel colored eyes, and long blond hair (my god he actually looked like my favorite fictional hero Lestat), and he looked at me and simply said "You're beautiful."

I ran away. It's hilarious looking back, but yes I ran away because that's how flustered I was. But I couldn't leave the store as I was in the middle of performing my duties, and he was there picking out tile for a huge bathroom job. For the next to hours we kept bumping into each other in the store, as if we were two magnets constantly drawn together. Finally before he left, he introduced himself (Joe), and asked me out. I should have said no, I should have gone home, but I did none of that. Instead I said yes, and proceeded to enjoy the best date of my life. Our first date involved a free fall ride, and it was as thrilling as the man himself. Joe was an adventure for me, someone exciting with whom I could be myself. We began what was supposed to be a brief affair. God of course had other plans. 

Despite using birth control, I became pregnant two months later, and faced the toughest decision of my life. Do I get an abortion? I went to the clinic, I consulted with the doctor, I spoke about my options, and I have to honestly say that I considered it. I told Joe that I was pregnant, and he was happy. Yes it was unexpected, but he wanted to try to be a family, he wanted to try to give us a chance, and boy was he persistent about it. I had a lot to think about. How could I tell Mark? How could I destroy our lives like this? How could I do this to the man I'd loved for 15 years?

I was sitting in the doctors office thinking about planning an abortion, when I realized I wanted this baby. I wanted him or her no matter what the consequences were, and was finally ready to walk away. It was devastatingly hard to tell the love of my life that I was pregnant with another man's baby, but he was also my best friend, and I knew I could tell him. I remember sitting across from him, our relationship crumbling in ashes around us, as I held his hands, looked him in the eye, and told him the truth. I had been unhappy, I had been having an affair for 2 months, and was now pregnant and certain that it was Joe's baby. I expected to be told off, to be called every name in the book. Instead my best friend, the man I loved, held me and told me it would be ok. We would raise the baby as his, he would forgive me, and we would never speak of this again. Our love could perform miracles he reminded me, and we could do this.

I was flabbergasted. What? He wanted to stay together? He wasn't angry at me?  I was confused, and loved him enough to agree. We would try, I wouldn't tell anyone about Joe, and we would go on as if nothing happened, only with a baby. I must have been delusional to ever think that could work, but I was willing to give it a try. Joe however was not. We continued to see each other, and he was furious that I would consider raising our son without him. He was adamant that I give us a chance, that I couldn't be happy or else I wouldn't have been with him to begin with. Thoughts plagued me. Of my son in the future blaming me for not knowing his dad. How could I deny this man, who obviously wanted to be a family, the chance to know his son? How could I deny my son he chance to grow up with his father? I couldn't do that.

Thinking of Gabe, and what I wanted his life to be like when he entered this world, is what finally convinced me to act. I wanted my son surrounded by family, something that would never happen with Mark, an despite the fact that he never once expressed it, surely he had to be angry with me. That anger would fester, and grow, and poison not only our love, but also my Gabe. So I did the next hardest thing I've ever had to do, and told Mark that I couldn't stay with him. I had to give Joe, and our family a chance to flourish, I had to do it for Gabe, or else I would never forgive myself. It was a conversation full of tears, remorse, and sadness at the ending of our love story. There would be no more G-Sec and Shotty (personal reference), after 15 years of love, what we had was over. I cried for months, made more emotional by my pregnancy. Mark and I tried to remain in contact, our desire to be in each others lives, too powerful to simply fade. But it simply could not be, I could not take my old life into my new one. We had to really say good-bye.

Shedding tears as I write this, I remember our last meeting, the last time I saw his face, and I have a secret fear that the day will come when I cannot recall the face of the man I loved for so long. Our love may have changed, but it will never fade. If you are out there, if you are reading this, know that I will always love you, that it wasn't all bad and I was happy, it just wasn't to be. Not in this lifetime. And I am so so sorry for the pain I know I caused you, I would do it all so differently if I could. You were my first love, my best friend, and you will always have a place in my heart. I wish you nothing but the best, and hope you are happy.

Just like that one phase of my life was over, and my story with Joe begun. Our relationship wasn't easy. We didn't really know each other when we agreed to be a family and give it a shot. There were many ups and downs as we got to know each other, things were by no means perfect. There were fights and tears, but we were determined to try, and for the first time I could be myself at home. I started to rediscover who I was, and together Joe and I were making a home.  Our love developed slowly as we waited for Gabe to arrive, it didn't happen overnight. It happened gradually, as we  grew to respect each other, to appreciate each other for who we truly were.

 

 

The day Gabe was born everything changed for us. Joe was amazing in that hospital room, he kept me calm, and actively participated in the delivery. No one had told me that when my son was born, I would see his father through new eyes, and that my love for him would immediately deepen. When Gabe was placed in my arms, my heart exploded with joy, tears streamed down my face, I looked at Joe and finally understood love. This was love. Seeing someone for who they truly are, and loving them no matter what. I was a hot mess, but in Joe's eyes I saw only love, I had found someone who saw me, the real me, and loved me for it.

Three years have passed, and we moved half way across the country to finally find the place that is our home. Much like happened with Mark, my love with Joe changed as well, only instead of growing further apart we grew closer together. We learned together, and we decided that together we would try to be the best version of ourselves. He became my biggest cheerleader and supporter, he became my confidant and best friend, someone who truly knows the best and worst of me. Joe grew and changed right along with me, from a man who thought he would never marry, into the man who proposed on Christmas day. He became a family man, the kind of man who cooks all day on a weekend, the spends the rest of it outside with his son. You could say we grew up together, and that Gabe completely changed who we thought we were.

Joe accepted my family (the entire crazy clan) immediately and with open arms. He actually LOVED being around my family, which was an entirely new thing for me. He brought me into his own amazing family and they welcomed me as one of their own. The whole thing was a new experience for me, and one that I grew to love. I love Joe's (now our) family, they have been wonderful to me and to Gabe, and his mother and grandfather have become like my own. I know Joe loves my parents, and he makes an effort to make them feel included in everything we do. We are a happy united family. Gabe did that, our love did that, created a family out of two lost souls.

I feel blessed to have experienced love twice in my life. Yes it came with tears at times, and I made some terrible mistakes, but I wouldn't change a thing. Twice in a lifetime I got to experience a love so pure and true it can only be eclipsed by my love for Gabe, for that I will always be thankful. I look forward to marrying Joe this summer, to declaring our love, and sending it's promise out into the universe.

Love can perform miracles. I know, it happened to me twice.