That night, as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said: "I have something important to tell you." She sat down, wordless throughout dinner. I could see the pain in her eyes.
Suddenly, I was also wordless. But I had to tell her what was on my mind. I wanted a divorce and was hoping to discuss the matter calmly.
She didn’t seem upset with what I had to say and simply asked in a low voice: "Why?"
I avoided answering, which made her very angry. She threw the silverware and shouted: "You're not a man!" We said nothing else to each other that night. I could hear her crying. I knew she wanted an explanation for why I was ending our marriage. Yet, I didn’t have a good enough answer. My heart no longer belonged to her, but to Jane. I just didn’t love her anymore; I felt sorry for her.
Feeling very guilty, I wrote up a divorce agreement; leaving her the house, our car and 30% of my company shares.
She took the paper out of my hand and tore it up violently. The woman I’d lived with for the past 10 years had become a stranger. I regretted having wasted my time and energy, but I wouldn’t take back what I said because I was deeply in love with Jane. As expected, she began crying out loud in front of me. As she cried, I felt liberated. I was fixated on getting a divorce over the past few weeks and now it was finally happening; the end was near.
The next day I got home late and found her sitting at the table, writing. I skipped dinner and went straight to bed. I was so tired from spending the day with Jane that I immediately fell asleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night and found her still sitting at the table, writing. I ignored her and went back to sleep.
The next morning, she presented me with the following conditions: she didn’t want anything from me. She only asked for me to give her a month before finalizing the divorce. She asked that we try to live together as naturally as possible during the next 30 days. Her reasons for this request were simple: our son would be taking very important exams next month and needed a supportive environment so that he could be well-prepared without the hassle of having to deal with his parent’s divorce.
It seemed reasonable, but then she said there was something else. She reminded me of when I carried her into our house on our wedding day and asked me to carry her out of the house every morning for the next 30 days. I thought she was completely crazy, but agreed to her request so that the following days could be a little less intolerable.
I told Jane about what my wife had requested, she laughed and thought the idea was totally ridiculous. “She thinks that by imposing conditions she’ll change something. She’d better face the facts and just accept the divorce." said Jane, sarcastically.
My wife and I had had no physical contact for a long time, so it felt totally weird to carry her out of the house the first day. Our son clapped and said, "Daddy’s carrying mommy in his arms!" His words made me embarrassed. From the bedroom to the living room, from the living room to the front door; I must have carried her for about 30 feet. She closed her eyes and said softly: "Don’t tell our son about the divorce." I nodded my head, even though I disagreed and then put her down after we crossed the doorway of the house. She took the bus to work and I drove to the office.
The second day was easier for both of us. She leaned in on my chest and I could smell her perfume. I thought about how long it’d been since I’d given this woman any attention. She certainly had aged over the past 10 years; there were wrinkles on her face and her hair was getting thin and gray. Our marriage had taken a toll on her. It got me thinking, for a few seconds, about what I had done to get her like this.
When I picked her up on the fourth day, I felt a greater intimacy with her body held up to mine. This woman had dedicated 10 years of her life to me.
The same thing happened on the fifth day. I didn’t say anything to Jane but it was getting easier to carry her from our room to the front door. "Maybe my muscles are getting stronger because of all this exercise,” I thought.
One morning she was trying to choose a dress to wear. She tried on several dresses but couldn’t find one that fit properly. With a sigh, she said: "All my dresses are too big on me." I figured out the reason why it had become so easy to carry her these last few days; she had lost weight.
Reality hit and I felt a bit of remorse. She carries so much pain and sadness in her heart... Instinctively, I reached out and touched her hair.
Our son came into the bedroom and said, "Dad, it's time for you to carry mom." It had become routine for him to see his father carrying his mother every morning through the house. My wife hugged our son and held him in her arms for a few seconds. I had to get away, fearing that I would change my mind now that I was so close to my goal. Then, I took her in my arms and carried her from the bedroom to the living room and from the living room to the front door. Her hand rested on my neck. I held her tight against my body. It reminded me of our wedding day.
Seeing how skinny she was made me sad. On the last day, as I held her in my arms, for some reason I couldn’t move my legs. Our son had already left to school and I found myself saying the following words: "I didn’t realise how much intimacy we’d lost over time."
I was unable to drive to work. I went to my future new address; I hurried out of my car, afraid to change my mind. I climbed the stairs and knocked on the bedroom door. Jane opened the door and I said to her: "I’m sorry, Jane. I’m not getting a divorce anymore."
She looked at me in disbelief and touched my forehead: "You must have a fever?" I took her hand away from my forehead and repeated, "Sorry, Jane. I’m not getting divorced. My marriage was boring because we didn’t know how to value the small things in life and not because we didn’t love each other. Now I know that, the same way I carried my wife over the threshold on our wedding day, is the same way I should carry her until death do us part.
Jane now knew that I was serious. She slapped me in the face, slammed the door and I could hear her crying hysterically. I went back to my car and went to work.
On my way back home, I stopped by the flower shop and bought a bouquet of roses for my wife. The store clerk asked what I would like to write on the card. I smiled and wrote: "I will carry you in my arms every morning until death do us part."
That night, when I got home with a bouquet of flowers in my hand and a big smile on my face, I went straight to our room where I found my wife lying in bed, lifeless.
My wife had cancer and had been receiving treatment over the last few months, but I was too busy with Jane to notice that something was wrong. She knew that she would die soon and wanted to spare our son from having to deal with our divorce. That’s why she prolonged our life together. She wanted to leave our son the memory of seeing us together every morning. At least in my son’s eyes, I’m a loving husband.
It’s the small details that really make a difference in a relationship. It’s not a mansion, a car, properties or the money in the bank. These things are helpful in creating a happy environment but it doesn’t provide anything more than comfort. So find time to be your wife’s friend; do little things for each other to keep yourselves close and intimate with one another. Have a genuine, happy marriage!
If you chose not to share this with somebody, nothing's going to happen.
But if you choose to send this to someone, maybe you’ll be saving a marriage.
Many who have failed in life are people who didn’t realise how close they were to success and chose to give up.
Bishop Macedo
