Marriage By ROSELYN NADONZA

Re-posted from Facebook.

WRITTEN BY MS ROSELYN NADONZA

To those who are married, .. Not married .. and soon to be married, I hope you will be touched with this story...
 
MARRIAGE
When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce.. I raised the topic calmly. 

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Dew.

I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her! With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Dew so dearly. 

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now. The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again. 

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage. This was agreeable to me. 

But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning.. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request. 

I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions.. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.. My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. 

His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office. On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time.. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.





On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. 




She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head. 

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad. 



On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind...I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce anymore. She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead.. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. 

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart. 

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead. 

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do you have a real happy marriage! If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you. If you do, you just might save a marriage. Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up

THANK YOU ROSELYN NADONZA

Kangol Man

He packed up to leave. 

An older man that had long-time sadness on his face. From the wrinkle on his face, it wasn’t hard to tell he hasn’t smiled much in his life. No crow’s nest around the eyes. No dimples on his face. A droop in his body and face. It was a sunken soul.

A quiet man, he was. Didn’t speak much and seemed to fear being loud. He offered me his seat when I asked to sit next to him. Needed to charge the laptop. Ran out of juice while at Barnes and Nobles. He happily and considerately gave me his seat so I can be closer to the too scare outlets.

Seen him before. A nondescript man that had lines on his face that angled downward. A Droop about him that slowed.  Sitting next to him I felt an unfinished life. An unhappy one. No one to talk to. No one to bring joy. Maybe I am overanalyzing. I hope that I am not projecting, but I sensed a deep, cavernous sorrow in him.

Noticed the picture he drew. It was that of a house. It was a brick house with a green roof drawn a small piece of paper, the kind of paper that one keeps close to his heart. It was rectangular, 3x5 by my guess. His brick house had no dimension. A simple one with no depth, no perspective. The kind that a kindergartner would draw. It had a dog and an American flag. He used a professional drafting triangle. The plastic drafting sort used by architects and contractors. It was a purple plastic with circles, symbols, and figures to trace. He worked on it the whole time I was there. This home meant much, I think. Maybe it was a home he imagined he had? I sensed he did not have much

He wore an old Kangol hat, backwards at that. A sign of style some 30 years past. He wore black Dockers.  The well-worn faded kind that one finds at a Goodwill. His shirt covered his large roll surrounding his belly. The oversized shirt couldn’t hide the unexercised life.  There was no passion in him. No joy at all. It seemed there was a longing for his 3X5 card home. Maybe an ex-con. Maybe formerly homeless. His white shirt was clean though. It had a giant American flag, that said “Patriotism, the American Way.”

He is an older man whose life seemed to pass him by. He wore a gold ring on his middle finger of left hand. Too large for his frail hands. On the right hand he wore a silver band on finger next to his little finger. He gripped the colored pencil loosely, but colored with an anger of something missed. 

He turned around, hoping for someone to speak with. There was no one needing help. The ladies standing next to him were waiting to just to use the  busy internet computers. His body language showed disappointment. Reminded me of a tied up old dog waiting all day for the kids to come home school. The kind of dogs that is always chained up, whose master nevers come home to play with him.

He sat next to me and I could not escape this feeling of disappointment. No one to help. No one to talk to. I was going to say something, but I didn’t. It was a library. He needed someone to talk to. He needed to be needed. Like an abandoned pet that hasn’t yet give up on company, but has been too often learned of disappointment. He sits there—not being a part of anything. He is at the outskirts of company. He is socially abandoned.

There is goodness in him. Its there. It is the puppy waiting for his master to play with him. He knows only the disappointed waiting where the master comes home just to water and feed. Never to be play catch or take a walk. Never to experience joy. He had no one to play with. No one to bring joy to. 

Can’t help but feel bad for this older man. It was like seeing the too many homeless person on side of the street as you drive by. You would like to give him a hand, but knowing that if you could, it was more than you were willing to give. It is a despair I felt for this older gentlemen. He had intention for something more, to do more, to do good. He was here to help. He wore a blue lanyard around his thick dark neck that held his city volunteer badge. He moved the plastic stand that said “Homework assistance”

Despite all this, one could not escape the sadness around him.

He looked at the clock again and gathered his pictures. He packed up to leave, pulled on his faux leather laptop case. Gathering his colored pencils and sharpener. Opened up his computer bag. There was no laptop inside. Several papers and pens spilled out his overfilled bag. Just colored pencils and kindergarten pictures of his homes.

He glanced me and smiled, a sad smile. I nodded and he waved back. Maybe next time, I will speak to him. Hope his sadness was just today for him. Hope that this sadness is not the kind that follows him home. I hope he has someone to play with. I hope he has someone to talk to. It saddens me and life is too short to feel such a hole inside. I hope to never feel like him.

I promise to talk to him next time I see him.

(Sorry. No Pictures. Out of Respect. We too often have seen this kind of Sadness)