I could be a grandfather any day now. A little while ago, my daughter (and mother-to-be) Emily emailed me a photo of her in late pregnancy, looking radiantly beautiful. The picture brought back fond memories of my first marriage, when my wife and I were anticipating the birth of Emily.
I related this to Emily on the phone, what a precious time this must be for her and husband, Hamish. Soon after the conversation, I had a bolt from the blue:
I had just recalled a pleasant memory from my first marriage!
My first marriage lasted seven years. Somewhere, the marriage went sour. No bad reflection on Gail, or myself, for that matter. We were two good people caught in a bad situation, beyond our abilities to resolve. We stayed in this bad situation way longer than we should have. By the time we acknowledged the inevitable, the damage had been done. The trauma and hurt of the bad times was driving me crazy. My brain responded the only way it could under the circumstances - by going into a protective amnesia that locked away the good memories along with the bad.
That way, over time, I could put my marriage behind me and move on, not necessarily whole, but in one piece.
My marriage broke up a quarter century ago, when Emily was five. Now, here she is with Hamish, experiencing moments beyond precious. Yes, I remember. I do remember. Thank God, I remember.
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