On This Day In History

On this day, sixteen years ago, I married my first wife.

Yes, we were married on the Day of the Dead. And, yes, it turned out to be a prophetic, ominous sign for the duration -- or lack thereof -- of our marriage. 

Her name was Kerri. She was this wide-eyed, curly haired cutie with an infectious smile and sharp, intelligent wit. We were your typical on-again, off-again high school sweethearts mixed in a large circle of friends who fumbled from one person to another trying to figure out which fit best. (Like shopping for jeans, but with relationships.) For whatever reason, we decided on each other. 

Probably had something to do with her ahead-of-its-time-peach-emoji-defining-bubble-butt ass. #mykryponite 

Our marriage was shorter than Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson's engagement. And that's saying something. Looking back, I know without a doubt that she loved me. And it wasn't that sloppy, youthful, "you belong to me" kind of love. It was mature, faithful and unselfish. It was the "I got your back no matter what" kind of love. It was impressive, really.

Guess her emotional maturity was as futuristic as her ass. 

But I wasn't a good partner, dear readers. Terrible, in fact. I was too young, insecure, testosterone-filled (read: horny) and stupid to understand it. I was really too much of an emotional infant to understand what love was -- in even the most general terms -- when I was with her. After all, men do mature slower than women. 

Some even slower than that...

I'm not sharing this today because I would change anything about the relationship...or my life since. Because I wouldn't -- not even my near death accident. Reflecting and recognizing episodes from the past doesn't mean you want to relive them, dear readers. It just makes you mindful of where you came from. I walked away from Kerri for a girl I would later have a son with -- the greatest gift in my life -- and, from what I've heard, she married and started a family of her own. My guess is she feels the exact same way about her children as I do and I wouldn't change the journey that brought Declan to me for anything. 

ANYTHING. 

I'm sharing this today for three reasons. First, catharsis. Writing is my purgative drug. 

The second reason -- even though she'll never read this -- is to thank Kerri. (In fact, knowing she'll never see this makes writing it that much easier.) Thanks, Ker. Thanks for teaching me what love was in the past, allowing me to apply it to my son and his mother in the present. #adulting 

The third reason is to have a reason to write. I really want to get back into the habit of writing more and sometimes the only way to do that is by sitting down to write and seeing what comes out.

What came out today just happened to involve slaying some old demons. 

Day of the dead, indeed.