the past is water poured in a river

A few days ago I had some marriage-memory-moments. I ran across my marriage certificate Sunday night and then, Monday morning, I found myself walking by the exact spot my "wedding" took place, on the sidewalk outside the Multnomah building.

I thought: "Hmm. What are these marriage moments all about?" So, I asked the trusty tarot cards. Mock me if you will, but the tarot cards, as usual, were right on. I got the card that encourages us to remember lost love and days gone by. It told me, among other things, to reflect on my last relationship because any unfinished business will be visited upon my next relationship. Seriously. Could the cards have possibly given me a more appropriate answer to the question? I doubt it.

So I dug out the framed photo of me and CB that was taken while we were in the line about an hour or so before we were actually married. It is a gorgeous photo, if I do say so myself, and despite the painful break-up, I love the picture. First of all, it is huge. Not enormous, but bigger than small. I guess it's the size of a piece of notebook paper. And it's in a lovely wood frame. And there we are, in front of this pale brick building, arms around each others' shoulders, in our matching biker jackets (how gay is that?) -- and we look so happy. So peaceful.

Yeah, it's a lovely picture.

So I've had this picture on my desk for a few days now. I'm honoring the relationship, honoring what was, but also trying to figure out how what "was" fits in with what "is" -- it's tricky. I look at the picture and I see two very happy people with a lot of love between them. I look, especially, at myself. My hair is much shorter than it is now, I'd just started growing it out. And I'm wearing that biker jacket and a blue scarf I never wear anymore. But I look deeper, at my eyes, my smile. I look almost gauzy and glowing -- my eyes are half-closed, as though I'm in a trance of happiness. And I have this sweet smile -- not a big toothy grin. Just a sweet, peaceful smile.

I look sweetly happy. I look young. I look at that face and I know I am not that person anymore. There is something innocent in that face that is gone now. I can't quantify the changes or sum up the total difference -- I just know as life with CB flowed on, I was challenged and I struggled and I was hurt and I caused hurt and I made hard choices and I became very serious and I drifted through circumstances, especially toward the end, that felt very dire.

I remember, during the middle of CB's bender, long before I was thinking of leaving, before I realized the enormity of the problem -- how the problem would continue to compound, snow-ball, roll forward, shifting and growing -- I would come home from school and find CB drunk, despondent, crying, staring into space. I remember feeling so broken inside, so sad and so completely terrified -- to watch this woman I loved come completely apart. Fucking heartbreaking! I remember sitting with her on the porch on one particular day after she'd yelled at me, then cried, then given me some long rant about her current state of mind (which sounded to me like cold wind howling -- words with no meaning -- no logic) -- I sat, finally, holding her, thinking "she is a little child" and thinking "I am finally a grown up." Such a sadness in this assessment of adulthood. As though being adult means taking on the saddest possible task forever.

Our marriage was an experience that is over. I will eventually put this picture back in the closet and finally call her about picking up my mail and see how she's doing. But for now I'm not ready. For now I'm still letting it all sink in.