I’ve noticed over the past couple of weeks, even before Thanksgiving, that I have been neglecting my husband. But, he said something today that stung. I was busy knitting and he tried to give me a hug and a kiss. And I foolishly resisted and said, “Not right now. I’m working.” He sulked away saying sadly to himself, “….but, you’re always working.”
I put my needles down and gave him a hug and started thinking back over the last month or so. I have been an terrible husband. Ever so focused on trying to get us ahead, ever so focused on my books and my knitting, that I forget about what matters so much to him, can be a distraction to me. Awful, isn’t it? He just wants affection from me, and I’m so busy whipping up teddy bears and writing that I dismiss tenderness. I try to justify it to him and say that if I didn’t work hard, we’d fall to the wayside, and I can’t have that happen again. It’s easier being homeless when you’re alone, but not when you have a husband and two cats. I work so hard because I never EVER want to be in that situation again. And in the process I forget the emotions that forgive us of our failures. There is no sense in working this hard if I lose the beauty that I have gained: our relationship. He is truly the best thing that has ever happened to me. And in some respects, I work hard and unknowingly avoid the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I knew I screwed up at Thanksgiving. So busy with my own knitting and writing that I made a terrible Thanksgiving dinner. Two pieces of garlic bread with marinara sauce on top. I handed it to him and went back to work. When he asked, “What’s this?” I simply replied, “I don’t have time to cook dinner. I’m busy working.”
And as Christmas quickly approaches and as the ornaments we bought are still in a shopping bag, he asks why we still haven’t gotten our little tree. And I foolishly said, “I’ve just been too busy…”
I know he hasn’t had the best life. And the details of that are for his explaining, and not for me to indulge you with here on this blog. His life is personal, painful, his. He should be the one to tell you those things, not me.
But, there is that part of my soul that reaches so hard into the depths of ambition to give him a better life, only forgetting that what fouled up his life was that he was abandoned, forsaken….dismissed.
I could possibly be the worst husband ever because I work so hard to provide….but, don’t provide what is needed. I went through this as a child with my father. My father busted his butt to become a success. The sacrifice was that I never saw him. And when I did see him it was only to be punished. I don’t like comparing myself to my father. The man made some horrible mistakes….and never owned up to them. He, to this day, will tell you he did the right thing. And I don’t want to have that trait straight line itself into my own life.
(Funny, I can hear him in the other room laughing right now while he watches something on Netflix. I love his laugh. He’s a very forgiving man.)
I love that man more than anything in the world. And I want to give him the best Christmas he’s ever had. Not gifts and things. I want to give him my time. I want to make him a wonderful dinner. I want to restore what his past has damaged. Give him family, joy, laughter and hope. Give him Christmas.
Perhaps, with this, I can redeem myself and become “the best husband ever.”
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