Stock Photo
For yet another week, my wife is in Edmonton for work. Most of the time, she works remotely for an accounting firm, but during busy season (taxes), she stays for a week. Last month, she was there for TWO weeks! And once again, I’m left to my own devices.
Padre (Major) Howard Rittenhouse – File Photo
Before this job, she was involved in the Protestant women’s group in the chapel and attended their annual gathering, and a tradition developed that I would write something every night on Facebook to entertain her and her friends (and give others pause to reflect on my sanity). This is an example (and still reflective of my feelings when she’s away):
Once again, Dana has chosen to abandon her family for the annual Protestant Guild retreat. And though she is only up the road in St Albert, we are desolate, lost, bereft, inconsolable … and some other words. But mostly, we are hungry. So hungry. There are boxes and cans in the house, but what do they contain? They are as the tomb of Tutankhamun before Carter – hidden, mysterious, enigmatic. She’s only away for a couple of days, so starvation is only a moderate fear. But the drums of starvation beat. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. It comes…..
Generally, these posts (as you might’ve guessed) revolved around my utter incapacity as a cook or keeper of my sons (we only have one at home now, and he’s a rarely seen cave-dweller who cooks/microwaves for himself). It gave her then, and still gives her, a great deal of pleasure to feel that I am a wreck without her, a bit of flotsam blown about on the waves of life without her anchoring presence, a mere bug on the windscreen of the universe. Actually, she doesn’t think I’m incapable at all (at least I think she doesn’t think that), but I have never been nor claimed to be a particularly able chef (I don’t even come up to the level of inept pot scrubber in a greasy spoon). I can throw a frozen pizza in the oven; I can reheat leftovers! But it makes her feel needed and missed when I write these posts.
And she is. Poke me with a stick and call me overdone, is she ever.
I know – because she told me – that she missed me almost (let’s be realistic) as much when I was in Afghanistan. She didn’t miss me very much when I used to go on exercises or when I’ve been on TD. In fact, she keenly anticipates my departures and is rather sad they happen less frequently. And yes, it’s a little demoralizing to hear your wife say, “Are you going away again soon?” with the eagerness of a kid waiting for Christmas. But I know she misses me. (Doesn’t she??)
However, when I’m away, I have no concerns about the house, the finances, the cat, or the cars. I have entire confidence in her abilities. And believe me, having heard the opposite from couples over the years about their significant others, I know what a blessing that is.
But getting to the place where both spouses are confident in and trusting of the other takes time, effort, and tenacity. Marriage – any intimate relationship – isn’t easy (ask my wife). But it’s the most important relationship any of us will ever have. And it’s worth putting in the work required to ensure that it doesn’t simply exist like a pot of plastic flowers, but flourishes like a garden.
I’ve been married over 35 years (no jokes about my age), and if I can be part of something so stunningly successful (even if I do say so myself), anyone can!
(But it’s mostly down to my wife)