Tomorrow you are coming home from the hospital after your fourth surgery in as many years, and I really fucking hope that this marks the beginning of a new path. A new path for you, a new path for me, and a new path for us.
I love you.
I know you haven’t heard that very much lately. I know you might even think it’s not true.
But I do. Very much.
And I want you to know that I am sorry. I am sorry for not being there for you in the past eleven years the way I think you may have needed me to be.
I have come a long way. Being married to you has taught me a lot about myself. It has forced me to really examine what I do and why I do it.
But I still have a way to go.
And I really want to go that way with you.
The past couple years have thrown challenges at us that would have seriously tested even the most rock solid of marriages.
I think separately, these challenges are tough to weather.
But pile them all on top of each other and I am impressed that we are still standing.
You know, I see people posting Happy Anniversary messages (usually women) to their spouses, telling them that these have been the best five or ten or twenty years of their lives, and that they are looking forward to the next five or ten or twenty.
Then they call each other best friends.
We’ve never said that to each other. Ever.
I think, especially the way things have been lately, you don’t think I like you very much.
I know I’ve been worried you feel the same way about me.
After eleven years of marriage, forget best friends. We are wondering if we are even friends at all.
Yep. We just celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary.
Okay. I lied.
We didn’t celebrate at all.
In fact, I don’t think I even wished you a Happy Anniversary.
Anyway, my point is that I really am hoping these past eleven years have not been the best years of our lives.
I mean, you have given me a whole bunch of amazing children. I could not have made them without you. Somehow they magically got most of our strengths.
I know I joke that they got all their good points from me and all their bad points from you. But that’s clearly not true.
They are intelligent and funny and strong and talented and beautiful. All of them.
We did that together.
And now that we are done having kids, I think there are lots of other extraordinary things we can do together.
We just haven’t managed to get to the same page at the same time.
Or we get there, and then we are given one of those tests.
An emergency with one of the kids. A nervous breakdown. A bankruptcy. A surgery. Another surgery. An impeding foreclosure. An accident. Another surgery.
They just haven’t stopped. But several times, we almost have.
We have been tested and pushed and pulled and trampled.
Fortunately, we both haven’t wanted to get divorced at the same time.
Everything has come to a head quite recently. We have both said things that I think, if given the opportunity, we would want to take back. Forever.
I know I would.
While I am not blaming myself for all of our problems, I acknowledge my fifty percent in our relationship.
I’m sorry for the shitty things I’ve said. I’m sorry for the times I’ve bulldozed right over you, for the times I’ve expected you to just do whatever it is that I decide is the right thing to do. I’m sorry for rolling my eyes at you. I’m sorry for being much nicer to the kids and to my friends than I often am to you.
I know I do all of those things more often than I would like to admit.
The truth of the matter is, you are a not like any other man I have ever met.
You really aren’t.
I mean, obviously there’s the physical stuff. You’re fucking hot.
But you are also smart and strong and talented and, okay, I’ll admit it.
Sometimes you are funny.
You drive a big ass diesel truck but you listen to classical music in it.
You like to watch dudes beat the shit out of each other inside an octagon, but you also like to talk about literature with anyone who appreciates a well-written book.
You can build a house from the ground up, but you are also skilled enough with a brush and a ponytail holder that no one would ever say Her father must have done her hair today.
And you notice things.
You notice what I’m wearing. How I point my fingers. Little details that would never even register on the radar of most men.
And I appreciate all those things about you.
Okay. Maybe not the talking about books stuff. Or the UFC shit.
I’ll probably never love those things.
But I love that you aren’t like most other men. That’s one of the things that attracted me to you in the first place.
And I love you.
The spark is still there for me. And I hope it is for you, too.
So tomorrow, when you come home with a new and improved body, I intend on wiping the slate clean, and giving you a new and improved wife.
Not a perfect one. And not a faultless one.
But a better one.
I love you, I miss you, and I’m really glad you’re coming home.
Thank you for making me Number 1!
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