Our Story Begins: Falling Out of Love

By  February 17, 2014

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I fell out of love with my wife.  There, I said it.

We didn’t get a divorce, we didn’t separate, she didn’t cheat on me, it just happened. I came to the realization just the other day.

How, you might ask, did I fall out of love with this woman when she died almost three years ago?

It came in phases. It came out of necessity. It came after she was gone.

First was the agony that comes with loss. I have four children, all of them with pieces of her showing. Every piece reminded me of her and it hurt all the more.

In the beginning, after I was able to stand on my own again, the tendency was to erect a pedestal. It was tall, beautiful, carved with amazing intentions. The cornice was decorated by the romantic story of our beginning and the beautiful smile and the insane attraction we had for each other. My children would laugh all at once and I’d hear her laughter in the timbre of their voices. I ached for the presence and affection again. Not any affection, but her affection.

Then came a year where, almost in reaction to the kids’ focus on what was missing, I started to chip away at the ornate dado and base. Sure she was an amazing decorator . . . but she never actually did the decorating, she had me do it. The kids’ school projects were brilliant, but she never finished them, I did. She knew calling me “Davie” drove me nuts and did it anyway! She was stiff, angry, wanted her way, wanted instant gratification on everything. When our daughter wanted to be an actress Andrea insisted – nay! Demanded! – that she go into a medical field.

Then this week I put a silly post on Facebook: “Just saw an ad for “dress sweatpants.” I’m sorry, whatever company is trying to see them, but it’s one or the other. Certainly cannot be both.”

Without thinking, no malice, I replied with a deep affection in my memory:

“I was never actually ‘hip’ but if Andrea taught me anything it’s that sweatpants are good for post-party hangovers but certainly not for going out.  I mean, really?  I have on my ‘dress sweats?!”

It was then I suddenly realized I was laughing, Andrea’s blue eyes sparkling in my mind’s eye.  The mundane, the day-to-day, survival mode took over and remembering what got me here – got us here – had slipped to a dark corner of my memory.  I hadn’t fallen out of love, I had pushed her back in an effort to think of her without hurting so much.

I don’t pine for a touch or toss and turn because the bed’s empty any more.  I miss her, but I don’t ache for her.  Sure, there are harder days, some worse than others.  It took this long to understand that’s okay.

I fell out of love with my wife.  Then this week…I fell back in.

What about you?  Do you miss someone?  Did adjusting without a spouse or boyfriend, all of that create a hard time for you and your kids?  What are your thoughts?

This was written by a Good Enough Mother contributor. Dave Manoucheri is a writer, journalist and musician based in Sacramento, California. A father of four, two daughters and twin sons, his blog, Our Story Begins is a chronicle of their life after the loss of his wife, Andrea, in 2011.