What I Learned About Marriage and Regret
I took my wife’s hand as we were having supper that evening when I got home and said, “I have something important to tell you.” She sat down and ate silently, not saying a word. Her hurt was evident in her eyes.
Though I didn’t know where to begin, I knew I had to express my opinions. Calmly, I declared, “I want a divorce.”
Rather than becoming enraged, her response was to inquire, “Why?” Despite being kind, her query unnerved me. She was much more irate with me for not responding. She yelled, “You’re not a man!” and tossed her chopsticks in a fit of rage. We didn’t say anything that evening, her tears a silent witness to our marriage’s disintegration. Though I could see the pain she was in, my thoughts had already strayed to Jane. I had become pity-filled instead of loving her.
Filled with guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement offering her our house, car, and a 30% share of my company. She glanced at it, then tore it to shreds. The woman who had been my spouse for ten years seemed like a stranger today.
I was really in love with Jane, so even though I regretted the time and work she had put in, I couldn’t change my mind. I felt like I could let go as she sobbed loudly. The thought of divorce, which had consumed my thoughts for weeks, appeared more certain and unwavering.
When I arrived home late the following day, she was writing at the table. I went straight to bed after skipping dinner since I was so tired from my day with Jane. She was still there, writing, when I woke up. I went back to sleep, not caring.
She gave me her divorce terms in the morning, stating that she didn’t want anything from me but that she needed a month’s notice before finalizing the divorce. Her reasoning was straightforward: she didn’t want to interfere with our son’s examinations, which were approaching, by getting divorced. This made sense.
She wanted to ask for one more thing. For the next month, she asked me to carry her out of our bedroom and to the front door every morning. Even though at first I felt it was an odd request, I complied with it in order to ease our last few days.
I informed Jane of my wife’s ailments. She laughed, brushing them off as ridiculous. She stated scornfully, ‘Divorce was inevitable, whatever the theatrics.
It felt strange carrying her the first day. As he cheered, “Daddy is holding mommy,” our son My heart was broken by his remarks. She closed her eyes and requested me not to tell our son about the divorce as I carried her from the bedroom to the door. I nodded, a twinge of regret in my heart. After putting her down at the door, I drove to work by myself as she went to catch the bus.
We had become accustomed to our routine by the second day. She was leaning on my chest, and her clothing was giving off a subtle smell. She had aged, with fine creases and graying hair, because I hadn’t given her a close examination in years. She had been impacted by our marriage, and I began to doubt my own behavior.
It seemed more personal carrying her on the fourth day. It was she, the woman who had known me for ten years. By the fifth and sixth day, our relationship was beginning to rekindle. Jane continued to improve, and carrying her got easier—possibly as a result of the regular exercise.
She’d gotten rather slim, I thought one morning as she tried on numerous clothes that had gotten too big. I suddenly felt a rush of affection when I caressed her head.
It was time for me to take care of mom, our kid reminded us as he entered the room. He was used to this every day routine now. My wife gave him a deep hug, and I avoided looking at him for fear that I could alter my mind. Her lower weight made me sad as I carried her through the house. I thought about how little intimacy there had been in our life as I held her on the last day, unable to move at all.
I left my car unlocked and hurried to the workplace.
“I’m sorry, Jane, I don’t want the divorce anymore,” I said to her when I approached her. It was evident how shocked she was. She touched my forehead and asked, “Are you sick?” I took her hand off of her and said it again: “I won’t divorce. Though it didn’t seem like it, my marriage didn’t feel boring for lack of love. I now understand that I should hold her till death separates us because I brought her into our house on our wedding day.
Jane gave me a harsh slap and shut the door, her eyes welling with tears. I got in my car and drove off.
I picked up a bouquet for my wife at a florist and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us part,” on the card.
That evening, I hurried upstairs after arriving home with the flowers and a smile, only to discover my wife dead in bed.
I had been so preoccupied with Jane that I had failed to see that she had been fighting cancer for months. She wanted to protect me from the bad effects of a divorce on our son since she knew she didn’t have much time left. I would, at least, always be a devoted husband in his eyes.
The importance of material items and spectacular gestures is irrelevant in relationships. True closeness is developed through the little, routine moments. Treasure those particulars and show one another your presence. Cheers to growing a marriage that is truly happy!
