A Phone Call with my Ex-Husband

This would have been our 47th anniversary. We’ve been divorced for 35 years.

47 years ago, I walked down the aisle to marry the man that I dreamed I would be married to for the rest of my life. We were so happy, in love, and ready to start our life together.

12 years later we were divorced. 

We lost touch over the years. He remarried a year after our divorce was final and is still married, having had two children as well.

We both went on with our lives. 

I have had several relationships over the years but chose to not marry again. Today I am single by choice as I work, finally, on finding who I am when not in a primary relationship. It seems that I best do that when alone, at least for now. At my age, I may be done with relationships, and that’s ok. If someone comes along and it’s right, that’s great. If not, that’s ok too. 

Several years ago, maybe a decade, I picked up the phone in my office from an unknown caller. Out of the blue, this man who had been my husband and then out of my life for many years, reached out and called me. 

It was lovely and so very healing for both of us, I think. 

Thus began our keeping in touch on birthdays and anniversaries, mostly by email.

I hadn’t heard from him this morning, our anniversary date, so I began composing my email. I began to write, partly giving him permission if he no longer wanted to have contact, that it was ok, that I would always cherish the memories and love that we had and appreciate the enduring love that we will always have for each other. I went on, as I kept writing, to let him know how special he was to me and would always be, whether we kept in contact or not. 

The phone rang.

It was him. And we talked for an hour and a half, as if we had never been apart. We laughed at funny memories, letting each other know that love would always be there, talked about life, about aging, about trusting each other with any depth of conversation. Tears came, a lot of laughter, memories resurfaced, and connections maintained. 

I am grateful to have been married to him. We were both young and really had no idea what marriage involved. We grew apart, eventually, and could not find our way back to each other. 

And now we have reconnected, with love. This may be a different kind of love, without the labels and issues that can sometimes get in the way when those labels are part of your identity. 

He reads my articles, he said. All of them. I am touched.

 He also always supported my art, which meant a lot to me. 

He holds a part of my history and of me that no one else does. Without siblings or any relatives that I have contact with, I miss having that sense of someone holding parts of me from the past, holding those parts tenderly and with love in their heart. 

He helps me to remember those parts of me at times that I may have forgotten. 

He asks how I am, really wanting to know, waiting for my answer. 

He shared how he has been doing, things he is working on, perhaps struggling with, looking forward to. 

And I was grateful to possibly have been able to offer some comfort, reassurance, and feedback from my having known him and patterns that he may struggle with. 

I am touched by our connection and grateful for our phone conversation. I didn’t realize how much that would move me. It was a journey back to some wonderful times, as well as a careful acknowledgment of the painful times with no blame or ill will, and a reaffirming that what we had did not die, only changed forms. What we had between us grew as it needed, to get to where it is today. 

On the anniversary of our wedding, I am grateful for the years we had and the ties that still exist. These are ties that do not bind but hold tenderly and with love. These are memories that are shared and held in our hearts, a bond that is deep and lifelong, even if we had to part. 

This was such a touching anniversary gift, a gift of love that has not died. A gift of love that does not demand anything, but simply is, and endures. A gift of restoring my faith in love, in its deepest sense. 

I can smile at the internal picture I have of that young couple on their wedding day, 47 years ago, and tell them it will be ok. It will all be ok. Your love will last. 

Happy Anniversary, dear one. 

And to myself I would say, you have loved, been loved, and are still loved. That seems to be the only thing that really lasts. And that is enough.