Norm

I've been doing a lot of thinking, and very little writing. While sorting through Norm's things, the kids found papers he'd written. Some were from high school and some were things he had written in rehab. One of them was a short biography. He wrote about his early childhood, he wrote about drinking, and he wrote about me. In his words, I found that he understood, maybe even forgave me for the divorce.

 I haven't written about Norm since before we were divorced. The things I wrote prior to that were not very complimentary, but writing it all down helped me to get through those difficult times. I used to read those journals every so often, to remind myself that I had made the right choices in my life. I felt a lot of guilt over getting divorced. It wasn't that I stopped loving Norm, it was that the man I loved seemed to have vanished. It occurs to me now, how hard it must have been for Norm, to hold on to himself, as alcoholism consumed him. To be honest, I think I buried the good memories,  deep in my heart. It was easier to forget about the boy I had known, the young man I had married - so I focused only on the negative. I wish I could have found a healthier balance of memories - a more fair way of looking at our past. I always told the kids that their dad was a good person who deserved love and respect. I explained that alcoholism was a disease. The words were true and I meant them, but I don't think I lived them in my communications with Norm. I wasn't cruel, in fact I tried to be kind, but I had put on a thick armor and kept enough distance that we became strangers. I regret that. When Norm died last month I felt that I didn't have a right to grieve, after all, I had divorced him. But I was grieving, I am grieving.

 Norm wrote that in 10th grade he went to a wrestling match and waved at a girl, not knowing she would someday become his wife. She waved back. That girl was me. As I remember it, I was in 10th grade, he was in 11th. I was sitting in the bleachers with my friend Greta. Her boyfriend had just moved from Wilbur to Soap Lake, and he was sitting on the Soap Lake Eagle's bench right next to a cute boy with glasses. After they waved at us we went  and squatted down behind their bench so we could talk to them. I was shy, so I probably just listened. We waited for them to come out of the locker room and then we ran as fast as we could down the hill so we could be walking nonchalantly down main street when their bus drove by.

This all happened in December of 1974, before cell phones and Facebook. We wrote letters. I remember getting up early so I could walk to the post office before school. We saw each other occasionally, but eventually we drifted apart. After my graduation in 1978 Norm came back into my life and quickly asked me to marry him - the following summer I did. Then we just got on with the business of life - having children, getting by. Norm always worked hard for his family, but alcohol started to interfere with our life together - it became dysfunctional. I used to think that I was the one doing all of the trying. I went to counseling, I went to Al-Anon. I bought him books to read and I nagged him to stop. I realize now that he probably was trying - he just couldn't do it. After 16 years, our marriage ended. I know Norm's life wasn't very happy for a long time, if ever, after that. I wish he could have found happiness. I wish he could have gotten well, and stayed well. It was hard to let go, but I had made up my mind and that was the end of it for me. Sometimes it seems unbelievable that we lost each other so completely.

No matter how impossible it might have seemed sometimes, I believe there could have been a way for things to be better. I lost Norm a long time ago, but only now do I feel the loss of the sweet and caring young man I married. As I went through pictures to make a memorial video I found him again. I'm sorry it took his death for me to open my heart to him. It is said that people should forgive and forget, but I think I needed to forgive and remember.