We Did A Good Job
Sometimes the person we wronged moves on before we do.
I don’t trust anyone who says they wouldn’t change a single thing about their past. And if I could go back and fix mine, instead of carrying around the guilt for the rest of my life... I sure as hell would.
For me, the thing that matters most is the people you hurt. Even if you didn’t mean to. Going through life thinking you haven’t hurt anyone is a lie you tell yourself.
When I pulled up to Luther Crest Bible Camp in northern Minnesota last August, I wasn’t sure what to expect. My daughter Emily was marrying Sara. They chose a beautiful lakeside location, where Emily had worked several summers before she moved to Seattle.
That time of year in Minnesota can be hot. Like humid, sticky, hot. I had my fingers and toes crossed it would be nice. And it was. Perfect.
Everything seemed to be running smoothly. Emily had asked me if I wanted to give a speech. For once I hadn’t waited until the last minute. I spoke about it in ‘Because Love Asked Me Too,’ but there’s more to that story.
Leading up to the wedding, there had been something on my mind. It was heavy, and it had been brewing for a long time.
It was bigger than my fear of public speaking. Bigger than worrying about becoming emotional, or embarrassing Emily on her special day. Cade and I would be sitting in the front row, holding hands in front of all those people. Still not as big.
It would be the first time in years that her mom and I had been in the same room for more than a few minutes. At least like this.
We have been divorced for over twenty-five years. We were barely teenagers when Amy and I met. We became boyfriend and girlfriend before we even understood what that meant.
And I was a different person back then.
Growing up is hard, but for me it was more than hard. My earliest memories were filled with fear, hatred and violence. I was too young to make sense out of how I was treated. My mother’s screams coming from outside my bedroom door terrified me.
As I got older, I protected myself by building walls. If I pretended everything was fine, no one would know how fucked up I was. If the walls were high enough, and if I just kept my mouth shut, all of those emotions would stay hidden there forever.
Along with a dirty little secret I had buried so deep, even I didn’t believe it was there.
We were twenty-three when we got married. I had successfully navigated my way into adulthood. All that nonsense had been tucked away safe and sound.
Being a husband and a father had often felt like a dream. I couldn’t believe it, but it was starting to happen. All I had to do was be normal.
Then Emily came along.
Holy shit, I had no idea! Something much bigger was happening. Suddenly I had this new emotion I didn’t recognize and it scared the shit out of me.
It was love. True, unconditional love. This tiny baby girl arrived. She was gorgeous. And she stole my heart.
After Emily came Ashley. Adorable little, full-of-the-dickens Ashley. I had done it. I was 27 years old, had a good job, a wife, and two beautiful daughters. I was flipping the bird to my childhood. Done and dusted. I won!
But normal came with a price. And I was already making the payments. Late, with interest.
There were moments. Perfect moments where I believed everything was going to turn out just fine. They were the moments to look forward to when everything wasn’t fine.
Because I wasn’t normal. And all that shit I had buried years earlier was festering. That on top of a relationship that had started rocky, and was only getting worse.
After the girls went to bed, I would run as fast as I could to the front steps, or the garage. That’s where I stayed till it was time for bed. Drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. It was safe.
But not really.
Because there was a woman inside, to whom I’d promised to love and cherish till death do us part. And she was wondering what the fuck was happening!
My avoidance and refusal to talk about anything must have been infuriating. When I refused to fight, it only fueled the fire. Amy wasn’t having any of it.
Let me tell you a little something about Amy. At least the one I know. She’s strong. She has a temper. She stands up for the people she cared about. And if you wrong by her, she’ll let you know.
But she had made a mistake. A monumental mistake. And she didn’t even know it yet.
She had married a coward.
How could she know? She had never met me. I had never met me. I was still a scared little confused boy, who buried everything so deep, and built walls so high, that even I believed me.
My dream was about to become a nightmare. I had made a big mess. The dirty little secret was going to come out. There was no stopping it.
Those two little girls that I love more than anything in the world were going to be taken away because I’m disgusting, and I never deserved them in the first place.
There was no way to avoid it. I was going to break Amy’s heart and change the course of her life. She was never going to forgive me, and I had to live with that.
I knew if I walked out that door, I would be losing everything. But by that time, I knew that losing everything was going to happen anyway. Because the alternative was much, much darker. And I couldn’t do that to my girls.
The other part of it was, I had no idea what I was walking towards. I didn’t know how to be gay. In fact, I had been the poster child for homophobic closeted gay men up till then.
I didn’t have any fashion sense, and I didn’t know any show tunes. From what I could tell, those required skills for admittance into the their club. I had no one to teach me.
And I had never been with another man. I was completely clueless. The future was a blank, scary, unknown.
Once I had left, and everything had finished crashing down around me, would there be anything left?
What I did next was despicable, and unimaginable. It was a mistake that I would end up regretting for the rest of my life.
When Amy left with the girls to visit her family in Massachusetts, she had no idea that when she returned, the drawers that once held her husband’s clothes would be empty.
Only the stench of a coward would remain.
The next several months were the darkest time of my life. I didn’t have my own place or a car, and I was staying with a friend who was never around.
There was no furniture. All I had was a mattress on the floor. My clothes in suitcases around me.
When I wasn’t working, I would drink, and listen to my Jagged Little Pill CD on repeat, and I would cry. I think Alanis would be pleased to hear that. At least amused.
Drunk and alone. I didn’t belong anywhere, or to anyone. And I didn’t deserve anything more.
So I decided to take a bunch of pills. A very large handful of anything I could find. I woke up the next morning, alive and with the worst hangover in history. Another failure to add to the list.
Time kept moving anyway.
My relationship with Amy never really improved. She worked her ass off. We were both struggling, neither of us happy.
The worst part was, she was the hero of this story and no one ever told her. She was the one who drove the girls to school, planned the birthday parties, coordinated their sports schedules and took time off work when they were sick.
She was the one who was there to help them with their homework. And she’s the one who disciplined them.
I became a spare parent. A novelty. I’m the one who got to do the fun things, like play Guitar Hero all weekend. Kids listen to the fun parent, because they never make them do anything they don’t want to do.
We spent twenty-five years carrying pain, anger and resentment. I didn't know what to expect that weekend, but I hoped we could be cordial for Emily’s sake.
Toward the end of the reception, as the dance floor started to empty, I was standing watching Emily and Sara, enjoying their day. Feeling thankful they had found each other. It felt like the right time, just to take a breath.
That’s when I felt a hand land on my back. It was Amy. She’d come over on purpose. She looked out at the girls and then at me, and she said “We did a good job.”
I smiled and nodded. Muttered something I don’t remember.
But on the inside, I was screaming. “WAIT WHAT?? Are you fucking kidding me?”
We had been so mean to each other for so long, I had just assumed that’s how it would always be. I’d gotten used to the guilt. It was mine. I’d earned it. And then this.
She wasn’t being sarcastic. She was being sweet. She was putting her hand out and offering something to me. She was sharing credit that belonged entirely to her. Credit I hadn't earned
We turned back toward the dance floor. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like running.
--R. Michael
From The Archives
A father’s tribute to the woman who inspires him most.
I got your weekly email while I was sitting in the car, and it really hit me. I ended up crying.
The honesty in what you shared, the pain, the struggle, all of it, came through so raw and vivid. It takes a lot to put something like that out into the world, and it didn’t feel easy to read, in a good way. It felt real.
I can only imagine how hard it must have been to write. I hope that in sharing it, and in putting words to everything you’ve been carrying, it gives you even a sense of relief and more healing.
What a wonderful and heartfelt story. I hope someday you can tell Amy in person ❤️❤️