No Greater Love

-written by rose-

 

I remember the first time I met him, perhaps three years past.  He annoyed me to no end, he followed me around like a puppy dog, looking back reminds me of how adorable he really is. His name was Tod, something in my heart told me to stay away from him, perhaps it was that I knew deep down inside that he was the one.

 

I wasn't ready for love, I had been married for 14 years and it turned out to be such a horrid part of my life.  I met Mike, my husband when I was young, I was so insecure in myself and thought that I couldn't do better.  I settled for what I felt would be an ordinary life.

 

It was okay in the start, he really didn't drink that much just once a week with his friends.  I should have realised back then that his drinking would increase, but I was young and felt that I could change the world, Mike included. 

 

There were many good time, however they were shadowed by ugly memories.  I remember the first time that he physically hurt me.  It started by breaking things which I treasured and progressed to me.  It didn't happen overnight, but it sure seemed to.

 

The signs were all there.  I never felt good enough.  I am an excellent cook, but he always managed to say something like " this is good, but you need to chop the onions finer".  In time I learned to make his meals as he desired.  It was always what he wanted, I never thought about what I wanted.  I guess in my mind,  I thought I was the wife and that I needed to adapt to his needs and desires, and leave what I wanted behind.

 

The first ten years, we lived together wasn't so bad, I wasn't so happy but he seemed to be, so that was good enough for me.  I remember buying our first home, he never wanted to cut the grass or do mainteance on the house, slowly his drinking took over and he did nothing. 

 

So here I was working full time, and taking care of a home with no help.  If something broke, I called my dad and he came helped me. Funny that my parents never questioned me about my husband and why he wasn't doing things. 

 

My dad worked hard and helped finish to make the two level basement into an apartment for which I could rent out and make ends meet.  More time passed and my husband soon started to spend his whole paycheck on drinking with the boys.

 

When I asked what he did with his money, he always had an excuse.  I guess I was to young to understand what he was doing.   He drank himself to his demise.  He had this thing in his head that he would stop drinking when he hit bottom.  It seemed that bottom to him wasn't ever going to come. 

 

Eventually we lost our home, I remember walking around our home which we lived in for five years.  The memories weren't so good, but I remember all the hard work my family put into making this house my home.  I walked around each room and said goodbye to my dreams.  I locked the door and lef the keys in my mailbox, and never looked back.

 

We moved into a small apartment, it was hard the kitchen was so small and I had no place to escape and call my own.  It was an open concept.  So everywhere I looked he was there sleeping off a night of drinking, snoring on the sofa. 

 

I learned to stay out of his way, make his meals and continue with my life.  After several years in the apartment, we rented a house.  It was  nice to have room again, and have my own space.  His drinking progessed as the years went by and it seemed as thought he would never stop.

 

One night he came home drunk, and woke me up.  He insited I get a pen and paper out and write down what was wrong with our relationship.  It was two in the morning, I was so very tired but knew if I didn't do what he said he would keep me up all night.

 

Through my tear stained eyes, I wrote all that he told me.  I had made his meal that evening as I always did and placed it in the microwave, so he could warm it up when he came home.  I warmed his dinner and watched him eat, trying so hard to keep my eyes open.  Finally at four he fell asleep in front of the television. 

 

Something changed in me that night, I belive it was the first time I realised that I didn't love him anymore and perhaps I never really did.  My confidence came back, and I found the strength to say " NO MORE".  The next evening I told him that I was leaving him.  He didn't argue to much. I started to pack my belongings, and within a few days was ready to leave.

 

I remember the day I left, he said to me " Don't leave I want you to stay", I replied by saying are you asking me to stay because you are afraid of paying for the bills on your own or because you love me?  Let's say the answer broke my heart, it was about the bills not love. 

 

It was hard living in my parents home again, my dad and mom constantly argued about me.  I felt so lost, and had no one to talk to.  My mom was great but my dad just didn't want me living at home.  I didn't go out alot, my weekly outing consisted of going to the drugstore to buy a few items for myself about an hour of time.  I remember my dad saying you need to go out.  Finally I started to go out, but my dad then said I was going out to much.  I felt like I was thirteen again. 

 

Finally I moved out on my own, it was hard and a struggle, but I was so happy to have my first apartment.  It was hard making ends meet.  Some months I only had twenty dollars a week for food, but I learned to go to food banks and make things work. 

 

To be continued............