Mostly because I have been thinking about her lately, I feel compelled to write about someone who was very dear to me. Many people who have met me in the last several years may not be aware of the fact that I was married to a woman for 3 years. I understand there can be lots of confusion whenever I mention it, and misunderstandings or misconceptions might occur. So I would like to take this opportunity to discuss my feelings about her.
Shortly after I came out, I attended a party for ex-Mormon gay people. Many of them had been married (to someone of the opposite sex), as I had. Most of those marriages had ended in divorce. Sometimes the divorce was very ugly, other times it was rather pleasant and they remained friends throughout the process. I assume it is because of the ugly divorce scenarios that this statement was made to me. Upon revealing that I had previously been married to a woman and that the marriage had ended in her death, a man said to me that it was good that it had ended in death so as to avoid the need for divorce. I cannot describe how hurtful this statement was to me at the time. I'm sure it was not meant to be hurtful. I assume it was merely thoughtless--perhaps this was a man whose divorce was very unpleasant and he was simply trying to express that he was glad I didn't have to go through the messy process of divorce myself. But to me it is unfathomable to tell someone that it is fortunate that their spouse died.
I think about Karen frequently. Not as frequently as I did the first year after her death, or the second. The memories I have are fond ones. To me, Karen was not just a person I married because of social pressure. She was an inspiration. I first met her my sophomore year of high school. I had met her brother (who was one year younger but in the same grade as her) in junior high, 2 or 3 years prior. I met Karen because she was quite often with her brother. As I got to know her, I was fascinated and impressed. She was hard-working, intelligent, kind, spiritual, and so many other things. I was drawn to her, as I was drawn to many of my friends in high school. I take pride in knowing that my mother approved of the circle of friends I had made for myself in high school, and she approved of Karen. She was impressed by how often I would talk about Karen and compare her to other friends I had.
I started courting her after I got home from my LDS mission trip, which was in the fall of 2004. At first she was reluctant, in part because she was undergoing treatment for her cancer (she had Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and had been battling it for the previous 2 years). One thing that touched her about my behavior was that I was comfortable going to a dance (swing/ballroom) with her even while she was bald, and considered herself to be ugly. I wasn't looking at her outward beauty. I was looking at her personality. She was a good person, and I wanted to be like her. I enjoyed spending time with her and getting to know her.
There was friction between us, as there is in any relationship. There were times when we both thought our own way was best and this led to unnecessary conflict. We learned to talk about it and work things out. We often had meaningful talks about our relationship and reached mutual understanding on things where we didn't initially see eye-to-eye. I admired her ability to do that. We were both stubborn, but the fact that we both put in effort to make things work led to a very successful and happy marriage. We learned how to compromise. We learned how to admit the other person was right, at least sometimes. We were happy.
I saw how other people spoke of her, and how their faces would light up as they talked about her. The principal at the school where she taught was a big fan. She often bragged to me about how good Karen was, about how happy she was having Karen work there. It also felt good when the other teachers would say things to Karen about me--pointing out how I was a supportive husband for coming to her after-school performances to help with recording or other things. The people who knew her at church all admired her for her kindness and her indomitable smile. People knew she was battling cancer--it was something she didn't necessarily like talking about but never tried to conceal in any way--and whenever they would ask her how she was doing she'd say "great". It was inspiring to me, and to others, that she was able to remain so optimistic in spite of the rough time she had during her 7 year battle with cancer.
We bought an old fixer-upper home while I was going to grad school, and Karen spearheaded the ambitious renovation projects she wanted to do in order to make the house more livable and boost its value. We sanded and refinished the hardwood flooring. We tore out the linoleum floor in the kitchen and replaced it with tile. We completely gutted the upstairs bathroom and closet and redid them. My parents and hers helped with much of that work. But Karen herself was the drive behind it all. She pushed me to work hard, and showed greater stamina than I did. She knew what she wanted and she did her best to make it happen. She excelled in music, teaching, and personal relations. It was an honor for me to be by her side.
I've brought up discussion about Karen at times when people told me (after the fact) that it was inappropriate. I suppose some people are uncomfortable talking about the dead. I don't feel that way. I am perfectly comfortable discussing her, and including the nature of her life and her passing. I don't speak of her often with people who never met her, but in my opinion it is not an inappropriate thing to discuss. The years I spent with her were very important and memorable years. I believe it is fine to share memories with people--particularly meaningful ones.
Gay men might be confused that a hetero marriage could be so meaningful to me. I honestly don't know how to address that. I don't consider myself to be bisexual. But I was in love with Karen. I would get starry eyed thinking about her or looking at her or holding her or just being with her. Through miscommunications and hardships and romance and friendship and love and life and death, she was dear to me. I would not give up those years with her for anything. Her name was a very fitting one. Her family often called her "Kare-bear" as a nickname. That was one thing she was good at--caring about people. And I cared about her. I loved her. And I miss her.
Shortly after I came out, I attended a party for ex-Mormon gay people. Many of them had been married (to someone of the opposite sex), as I had. Most of those marriages had ended in divorce. Sometimes the divorce was very ugly, other times it was rather pleasant and they remained friends throughout the process. I assume it is because of the ugly divorce scenarios that this statement was made to me. Upon revealing that I had previously been married to a woman and that the marriage had ended in her death, a man said to me that it was good that it had ended in death so as to avoid the need for divorce. I cannot describe how hurtful this statement was to me at the time. I'm sure it was not meant to be hurtful. I assume it was merely thoughtless--perhaps this was a man whose divorce was very unpleasant and he was simply trying to express that he was glad I didn't have to go through the messy process of divorce myself. But to me it is unfathomable to tell someone that it is fortunate that their spouse died.
I think about Karen frequently. Not as frequently as I did the first year after her death, or the second. The memories I have are fond ones. To me, Karen was not just a person I married because of social pressure. She was an inspiration. I first met her my sophomore year of high school. I had met her brother (who was one year younger but in the same grade as her) in junior high, 2 or 3 years prior. I met Karen because she was quite often with her brother. As I got to know her, I was fascinated and impressed. She was hard-working, intelligent, kind, spiritual, and so many other things. I was drawn to her, as I was drawn to many of my friends in high school. I take pride in knowing that my mother approved of the circle of friends I had made for myself in high school, and she approved of Karen. She was impressed by how often I would talk about Karen and compare her to other friends I had.
I started courting her after I got home from my LDS mission trip, which was in the fall of 2004. At first she was reluctant, in part because she was undergoing treatment for her cancer (she had Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and had been battling it for the previous 2 years). One thing that touched her about my behavior was that I was comfortable going to a dance (swing/ballroom) with her even while she was bald, and considered herself to be ugly. I wasn't looking at her outward beauty. I was looking at her personality. She was a good person, and I wanted to be like her. I enjoyed spending time with her and getting to know her.
There was friction between us, as there is in any relationship. There were times when we both thought our own way was best and this led to unnecessary conflict. We learned to talk about it and work things out. We often had meaningful talks about our relationship and reached mutual understanding on things where we didn't initially see eye-to-eye. I admired her ability to do that. We were both stubborn, but the fact that we both put in effort to make things work led to a very successful and happy marriage. We learned how to compromise. We learned how to admit the other person was right, at least sometimes. We were happy.
I saw how other people spoke of her, and how their faces would light up as they talked about her. The principal at the school where she taught was a big fan. She often bragged to me about how good Karen was, about how happy she was having Karen work there. It also felt good when the other teachers would say things to Karen about me--pointing out how I was a supportive husband for coming to her after-school performances to help with recording or other things. The people who knew her at church all admired her for her kindness and her indomitable smile. People knew she was battling cancer--it was something she didn't necessarily like talking about but never tried to conceal in any way--and whenever they would ask her how she was doing she'd say "great". It was inspiring to me, and to others, that she was able to remain so optimistic in spite of the rough time she had during her 7 year battle with cancer.
We bought an old fixer-upper home while I was going to grad school, and Karen spearheaded the ambitious renovation projects she wanted to do in order to make the house more livable and boost its value. We sanded and refinished the hardwood flooring. We tore out the linoleum floor in the kitchen and replaced it with tile. We completely gutted the upstairs bathroom and closet and redid them. My parents and hers helped with much of that work. But Karen herself was the drive behind it all. She pushed me to work hard, and showed greater stamina than I did. She knew what she wanted and she did her best to make it happen. She excelled in music, teaching, and personal relations. It was an honor for me to be by her side.
I've brought up discussion about Karen at times when people told me (after the fact) that it was inappropriate. I suppose some people are uncomfortable talking about the dead. I don't feel that way. I am perfectly comfortable discussing her, and including the nature of her life and her passing. I don't speak of her often with people who never met her, but in my opinion it is not an inappropriate thing to discuss. The years I spent with her were very important and memorable years. I believe it is fine to share memories with people--particularly meaningful ones.
Gay men might be confused that a hetero marriage could be so meaningful to me. I honestly don't know how to address that. I don't consider myself to be bisexual. But I was in love with Karen. I would get starry eyed thinking about her or looking at her or holding her or just being with her. Through miscommunications and hardships and romance and friendship and love and life and death, she was dear to me. I would not give up those years with her for anything. Her name was a very fitting one. Her family often called her "Kare-bear" as a nickname. That was one thing she was good at--caring about people. And I cared about her. I loved her. And I miss her.
Comments
Post a Comment
Anyone is allowed to comment on this blog. As you can tell from reading my blog, I am very opinionated and I'm not afraid to share my opinion. You're welcome to disagree with me as mildly or vehemently as you like, but be aware that I will reply with my own opinions, very strongly. If you don't want that kind of open discussion, or you think it will hurt your feelings, then please avoid posting. I do try to be respectful, but my verbology often comes across as brusque.