This one's for Mike...

I met Mike in fourth grade; he was standing in the doorway with his mom and step dad, Bruce.  He was, I found out later, 5'7", and a head taller than both of his parents.  I remember that day as clear as the ring of a bell.  We used to walk to GATE together and I knew he had a crush on me.  Eight years later, I told him I loved him and we started another eight year journey.  I just realized what the number is to Mike and I; 8.  8 years to start and another 8 to finish.
Mike taught me to be loyal. He taught me to be open with my feelings and to love someone out in the open.  Mike taught me to laugh more and to sleep harder.  My first restful night of sleep was laying next to Mike.  I felt safe and loved.  He did that for me.
Mike and I gave each other three magnificent children.  Magnificent is a fairly descriptive word and yet I fail to find one significant enough to describe the true magnitude of my childrens' exulted existence.  They are the result of a misguided, troubled, yet fully lived love.  I gave it everything I had and I know and knew as I left him that he had given everything he knew how to.  We were nineteen the day we promised forever.  And we meant it; what we didn't mean was at the expense of our own needs.  I thought he could fill every hold inside of me and I think he thought I could assuage every insecurity he had.  We couldn't.  But not for a lack of trying.  There are some things that simply cannot be mended by another.
I am a better person for those eight years.  I learned a lot from Mike.  I couldn't possibly list them all but here's a few and I say them with the assurance that comes with the resignation of an end;
I learned to make someone laugh when they are mad at you; he always did that to me and goddammit if it didn't work until that last year.
He taught me to love  myself.  He set the example that I still call upon to this day; he loved me no matter how I looked or what I said.  At least, he loved me the only way he knew how.
My marriage is over.  I mourned it's death for two years before I buried it.  My biggest regret is the casualty of three children who will continue to feel the after shocks long after I do.  The only thing I can hope is that they learn to emulate the best parts of us and to walk away from the worst.  I wish I could have provided more of the best.  There were allot of laughs in our house.  A lot of love. 
It was eight years yesterday that we stood there, in the rain, with only a handful of our family members willing to support us as we promised forever.  I meant it.  I just didn't know what I know now; about myself, mostly.  That was still a pretty wonderful day.  It was full of hope and the intention of perseverance.

So, here's to September 9th.  I promised.  I tried.  That path wasn't meant to be the last one; I hope this one is.  Here's to Mike for the lessons he taught me andto the ones he gave to the person I love now.

Thanks, Mikey.