Unspoken Abandonment

by Bryan Wood

  The issues in my marriage continued, and they never seemed to get better. At times there would be moments of brief improvement, but they were usually short-lived at best. There were other issues going on, but this story is not about my marriage, and I refuse to let it become that. One of the things I have learned throughout this entire process is that when you beat yourself up over something internally, you eventually come to accept negativity from outside sources as also being acceptable. After all, if you treat yourself like shit, it must be perfectly fine for others to do the same. That in turn spawns a vicious cycle that continues perpetually unless it is finally broken.

  I was looking at myself in the mirror one morning, and I saw the old me, the new me, once again. I stood in front of the mirror for an inordinate amount of time. As I looked at my reflection, I saw a young face looking back. I felt incredibly gifted at that moment, because I realized that one day I would not see the same young face in the mirror; instead, I would be looking at an old man. Sure, that would not be for a long time, but this life really does fly by at a very frightening pace, and in reality, that old man may be looking back at me before I know it.

  It made me wonder: what would think of my life, at that moment, the very first time I see myself as an old man. Would I be satisfied, would I have regret, or would I be scared of what was yet to come?

  I knew I still had the power at that moment to dictate the course of those answers, and I began to make a series of promises to myself. I promised to never again take a single day for granted. I promised to always strive to be a kinder, gentler, and more understanding person. I promised to enjoy life to its fullest, and make the most of every opportunity and blessing I am given. I promised to stop worrying about the incidental, truly unimportant details we all burden ourselves with on a daily basis. Most importantly, I then promised to never again give my love and affection to anyone who did not purely and honestly deserve it.

  Shortly after I made that promise while looking in the mirror, my wife and I had yet another confrontation over our issues. Once again, I was told I was not attractive to her and not loved the way a husband should be loved. The conversation was basically the same as all of the others, with the exception of the major difference that this was the last time I would ever hear her say those words, and this is the last time I will ever refer to her as my wife. I knew I deserved better than what I was being told, and I walked away to find it.

  The moment I left, I looked back and wondered how I could have let that go on for so long. I saw life with a clarity that I had lacked before, and it was now painfully obvious what I had missed all along. Not all relationships are meant to last forever, and that is fine. It only becomes a problem when the people in those relationships are not willing to face reality and realize it is simply not right to continue.

  It is drilled into us from the day we are born, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” While this may be good advice in some scenarios, it usually just places us in a situation where we make the same mistakes over and over, digging ourselves deeper into a hole, while we wonder why things keep going wrong. Sometimes, we need to take a moment to slow down, recognize that whatever it is we are doing just is not working, and move on to a different course of action.

  The actual act of leaving my marriage was much more difficult and drawn out than what I am sharing here. I do not go into more detail because I want this story to be about what defines me, and a failed relationship is absolutely not that. While many may consider the final ending of a marriage to be a negative impact on someone’s life, in my case it moved me forward in a very positive direction.

  After a long, painful, and embattled piece-by-piece reconstruction, my life was finally coming back together. I cannot say I was the same person I was before any of this started, but I was the same person who had since grown, learned, and developed in life. Some things had not gone away, and some still have not to this very day. I still startle very easily, I am still very sad about the life my friend Massoud had endured, and from time to time I can still feel the mice walking across me as I am falling asleep. When I stop and think about her, I can still hear that woman crying over the death of her young child, and I can still feel my stomach drop as I imagine her falling to the ground. I suppose none of those things will ever completely go away, and maybe I do not want them to. They have become part of who I am. These experiences, good or bad, are what makes me the person I have become in life.

  The only powerful feeling I felt hanging over me was a need for some sort of redemption. I felt as though I had to do something to truly absolve myself from any remaining guilt that lingered. I continually told myself that those things were not my fault, but it was nearly impossible to completely erase all of that guilt.

  I often reminded myself of Charles’ words, “If you try to do only for yourself, you’ll only get so far in life. If you reach out to touch other people, you can fix your own soul and move further than you can ever imagine,” but I never knew exactly how to find the kind of redemption I was searching for. Occasionally in life, the universe will give you a special gift: one that is exactly what you have been praying for, and the first of those precious gifts was to come.

  As my life improved in other areas, my life at work excelled also. I never let any of my personal issues invade my work life, although I am sure they may have had some influence on my career. I was very successful at maintaining a barrier between my career and my life beyond work, and it was probably the only figurative wall I built which was actually beneficial. By this time, I was now doing very well at my job, and I was transferred from patrol to a detective position.

  In my role as a detective, I initially served in one particular capacity, but I was eventually given the opportunity to expand on that. I was invited to be part of a statewide, multi-agency task force targeting child pornography. The goal of this task force was to identify criminals who were involved in the possession and distribution of this horrific material, and being a part of this team was incredible for me.

  Every time an investigation led to the arrest of a pedophile, I would look at them being walked off in handcuffs, and I think to myself, “There is at least one child in this world who will never be hurt because of what happened here today.”

  The act of watching a child being led off to be raped is an awful thing. Unless you actually live that moment for yourself, it is nearly impossible to understand what it does to your soul. The mental and emotional effect is enormous; it was for me, anyway. I had come to terms with the fact that the things which I had witnessed in Afghanistan were not my fault. Although I did have the physical means to stop them, I did not have the legal means to do so. This was a moral and ethical struggle which took more soul searching than I could ever describe here, but I had eventually come to accept this. Even with acceptance, it is very difficult to let go of a feeling like that. Every time I was a part of the arrest of another pedophile, I was able to let go of a little more. Eventually, I felt as though I had found at least some redemption, and I was honestly never expecting to find that. I knew I somehow still needed to find more, but what I had found to this point was far better than nothing, and it was worth every effort. I was truly free.

  When this story first began, I was watching a beautiful woman’s profile being cast by the sun, as it was slowly dipping towards the horizon. Her hair was flowing behind her as she playfully chased a young child. She looked towards me and offered a smile that still melts my soul. She stopped playing and stared at me for a moment. Running her fingers through her hair and smiling, she offered a look that any other man would envy. It was a look of pure love.

  “Mommy, keep playing!’ the child cried out. The young five-year-old girl looked to me and asked, “Daddy, are you going to play now?”

  Without a response, I got up and ran towards her. I picked her up as she leaped up at me saying, “Daddy, it’s coming loose again. Will you fix it for me?”

  I carried her to a nearby picnic table and set
her down. I noticed that the strap to her prosthetic leg was loosening and needed adjustment. I tightened the strap and asked, “Is that better, sweetheart?”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she replied as she ran off and continued to play.

  The child, a beautiful young girl, played happily although she has just one leg and the other is a prosthetic. She seemed almost unfazed by her disability. This is the moment when I suddenly begin to wake, and in the half confused state between sleep and consciousness, I realized I was simply having this dream yet again. I had the same dream maybe four or five times before, and each time it repeated itself, it became more detailed and vibrant.

  Once again, I am certain the universe had blessed me with another special gift: the understanding of how I could truly accept my past, find absolution, and become entirely whole. The advice I was given, “if you reach out to touch other people, you can fix your own soul,” made more sense to me than ever. In fact, after years of struggling with what that actually meant, I finally figured it out.

  I have believed, ever since I started having this dream, that one day I will save a child, just one, from Afghanistan. That nation is strained with a staggering number of orphans and badly injured children, many of whom are children who will most likely never see adulthood. I have seen their pain, and I have witnessed their horror. I believed at that moment, as I still do to this day, that my mission in life is to save just one child from that existence. Quite wonderfully, I do not share that dream alone.

  On a random day, in a random parking lot, I ran into a friend, and I started talking with her. She introduced me to her friend, Abby. Abby was absolutely adorable, beautiful, and a complete smartass. I had a short conversation with my friend, and I drove off wishing I had asked Abby for her phone number. I was far too afraid to just outright ask her, but the feeling must have been mutual. Abby obtained my phone number through our mutual friend, and she sent me a random text message that same night. Before long, we had our first date.

  Prior to that first date, Abby and I spent a few days talking on the phone and texting back and forth. She began to tell me about her life, and I told her about mine. We talked on the phone for hours one night, just talking about our interests, our lives, and just starting to get to know one another. Abby told me about her family and her job, and I told Abby about my friends and my hobbies. We were both dying for that first date to come.

  On our first date, we went for a quick dinner before going out for the night. We sat in the restaurant booth, across from one another, and Abby said, “I have something for you.”

  “For me?” I asked. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

  Abby fished through her purse and said, “I’ll pass it to you under the table.” She then leaned forward with her arms obviously extended, and she looked at me with the most adorable smile.

  I reached under the table and grasped what I could feel was a DVD case. I asked, “What is this?”

  As I brought it up to see what was in my hand, Abby said, “You said you loved The Simpsons, and I knew that just came out, so I got it for you.”

  I looked at what Abby had handed me, and I saw it was the newly released Simpsons Movie on DVD. She knew that I enjoyed watching the show, from our earlier conversations, and I had not yet seen the movie. I could not believe she had paid such close attention to everything I told her. My heart began to completely melt, and it has stayed that way ever since. I knew right then and there that she was the one I was always searching for, and now I had found her.

  Our first date was a series of minor catastrophes, every plan fell apart, and basically nothing went right. Somehow it did not matter, and we made the best of every minute we had together. Abby and I still refer to it as “the best-worst-date-ever.”

  That first date turned into a second date, then a third date, and so on, until we fell absolutely in love with each other. Our relationship moved forward at a very steady pace, and I was eternally thankful I was in the right place when I met Abby. I sometimes look back and think to myself: if I had not come so far by the time I met her, Abby and I probably would not have worked. Honestly, we could not have made it together. I would have always felt as if she deserved more or better than what I was. For a long time, I felt that way about everything. With the way things unfolded in the past, I unnecessarily found myself in a state of mind where I honestly believed I was not deserving of any of the gifts life had blessed me with. With Abby, I knew she was exactly where I belonged.

  One night, Abby and I were on the couch, talking about our childhoods.

  Abby asked, “Tell me something. What is your biggest regret from when you were a kid?”

  “That’s easy,” I said. “Commando. My biggest regret is Commando.”

  “Be serious!” she said.

  “I am being serious. My biggest regret is not beating Commando.”

  She asked, “Ok, what is Commando?”

  “Do you remember the old original Nintendo system?” I asked. I continued, “The problem with it was that you couldn’t save your progress. You played the game, but when you shut it off you lost everything, and you needed to start all over the next time you played.”

  “And what does this have to do with childhood regret?” she asked.

  “Well, when I was a kid I loved the game Commando. I played it every day after school and came so close to beating it. For more than a week, I played every day after school until I went to bed. Rather than turn it off and have to start all over again, I put the game on pause and left the Nintendo on. After nine straight days of playing, I was so close to beating the game, but it was time for bed. I left the game on pause and went to sleep, but when I woke up in the morning, my Nintendo was turned off. I went nuts, and I started asking what happened to my game. My mother came in and told me that I left my Nintendo on ‘by accident,’ so she turned it off for me.”

  Abby looked at me for a moment like I was crazy before I finished, “I never played the game again. So not beating Commando was my biggest regret.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Abby laughingly said.

  I did not think much of that conversation at all, until a few weeks later when Abby came to me with a box.

  “I have a surprise for you,” she said.

  I asked, “What’s this?”

  “Just open it. Come on… Come on… Open it!”

  I opened the box, and I saw an original Nintendo system from the 1980s. It had all of the cords and the original controllers.

  Abby said, “I found this place online that rebuilds these and makes them like new again. Look inside, there’s more.”

  As I looked through the newspaper that was being used as padding, I found a game cartridge. It was the original Commando.

  “Now you can finally beat it,” Abby said with a smile.

  I set the Nintendo up and started playing the game. It was really not how I remembered it. The game actually fell far short compared to the game systems we are used to playing now, but the effect it had was amazing. Playing that game, for the first time in twenty-some years, reminded me of being eleven again. I was blown away that she did this for me. I was blown away at who I had found.

  Time past and over the years since I met Abby, there have been a lot of “Nintendos” between us, metaphorically speaking. It seems like we live our lives for each other, and that makes me happy. That is not to say we do not have little quarrels and spats like everyone does. We argue sometimes if I do not clean up after myself or if she spends too much money at the mall, but we never lose focus on what really matters. From the moment I met her, I have never gone a single day where I did not feel loved, and that is truly more important to me than anything. It is a feeling I think is lost or abandoned on many other people.

  Abby and I moved into a beautiful home, and together we have built a wonderful life; it is a life of happiness, love, and enjoyment. It has been an easy road at times and a bumpy road at others, but I would not trade a moment of it for the world.

  S
ince the first day I started writing, so long ago, I have made extraordinary improvements in my life. I took them day by day, and they were so minor at times, it was difficult to actually notice the changes as they happened. However, looking back over time evokes a feeling of amazement in myself at what I accomplished. It is difficult to pinpoint exactly when I felt “whole” again, but it was at some point after meeting Abby. With her, the few remaining holes I had left were completely filled in. The guilt, remorse, and sadness are never completely gone, but they do not interfere with my life at all. The panic attacks, recurring nightmares, and fear, on the other hand, they are gone; none of them have ever returned, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t absolutely hate mice to this very day. I am fairly certain I always will.

  I do not think Abby realizes it, but each and every day I look at her and realize she is the reason I am who I am. It just does not get any simpler than that.

  After I returned from Afghanistan, I built an impenetrable fortress around myself, and I blocked out nearly all of my old friends. Very sadly, most of these friendships never really grew back. The time that passed, between the walls I had put up and when I was ready to take them back down, was enough that most people’s lives had moved on, and they had gone in very different directions. I tried to rekindle some old friendships on a few occasions, but I think just too much time had passed.

  Although the old friendships may have long since expired, I have opened up to new people, and I have a very close group of friends I have welcomed into my life. Rather than shutting people out, I am welcoming new people in. Admittedly, it is easier to make friends with people who have been through war or some other similar experience because I still have that feeling that someone who has been through something like that has an understanding of me that very few ever will. I suppose that will never change, and I really do not want it to. With that thought in mind however, I do limit the number of friends who have had those same experiences so I don’t confine myself to just that. It was a mistake I made in the past, to surround myself only with “people like me,” thinking it would make things better or somehow easier. I know I need to be realistic; that has never worked out very well in the past, so there is no need to repeat the same behavior again.