Hurt to Pain to Happiness

Hurt to Pain to Happiness

Suzanne Marsh

“What you did to me no human has the right to do to another!” Those words rang in my ears again and again during the divorce. The hurt, the anger, and the pain were at times more than I could endure. The divorce trial was a joke; the Judge played golf with my former husband’s lawyer, who has since been disbarred. My attorney wanted to know which trial they went to, as opposed to the one we went to. My life was in shambles; my children were turned into weapons against me. The two younger children would visit; the oldest one was reserved toward me. Today, the two younger children and I talk; the oldest I have not spoken to in sixteen years. Time, however, has a way of helping to forget the worst and remember the best.

A friend of mine that I worked with kept telling me, “Boy, have I got a brother for you!” I politely told her I did not need a brother; that brother I did. Late one afternoon, I received a phone call:

“Can you and Mary come over for a visit?”

“Sure, Mary was just being chased by the Christmas Goose.”

We arrived forty minutes later, Cathy opened the door, and we strode in; a very handsome man stood up. Cathy introduced him as her brother. I gawked at him. Cathy had black hair and blue eyes; her brother had blondish red hair, a russet beard, and a smile that could melt the coldest heart. There was a part of me that was totally resistant to any male; I was angry about the divorce, and angrier that my former husband had an affair, at least two that I knew about. I did not want the complications of another relationship; I had promised my dad I would “keep my nose clean” until after the divorce was finalized. So much for keeping my nose clean; now I had a larger problem: how to explain Earl to my dad.

Earl worked on a large cow farm and was a country boy; I am a city kid. Living on a lake had its moments, especially when the cows got loose at two in the morning. Cows are unpredictable creatures; they were in the lake, down the roads, and a few ventured into the wrong barn. Rounding them up is something I will never forget. I also learned to milk a cow; now I understand what an udder that is full means. I also fed the calves while waiting for Earl to get out of work. I enjoyed the calves, they would start lowing the moment they heard me coming; they got formula in a huge baby bottle!

Eventually, I introduced Earl to my dad, several months later, actually. Dad, never one to be abashed, stated: “My God, he looks like Grizzly Adams.” Earl had a full beard, and his hair was just below his collar. The entire day was an adventure; we went to see “The Jazz Singer” starring Neil Diamond.

Slowly, my life was changing, for the better. I still had to contend with picking up the girls, taking them somewhere. We took them roller skating, I fell and jarred every bone in my body, and that was the last time I went roller skating. We took them to the zoo, an African Lion Safari, and Canada’s Wonderland. For the first time in a very long time, I had found happiness. I guess I needed that brother after all.

Earl asked my dad for my hand in marriage; I was more nervous than he was. Dad asked me if I loved him; I told him yes. Earl is eight years my junior and sometimes eight years my senior; strange, I simply could not understand why a man eight years my junior would want to marry me, but he did. Our first date was a complete disaster. We went out for a pizza. I have a bad habit of talking with my hands. I spilled a large glass of orange soda all over Earl, and yes, he had the nerve to marry me even after that. The waitress came running with paper towels and rags, and I am sure even to this day that there is dried orange soda on several chairs.

The girls were growing up; the two younger ones wanted to come and live with us. Shortly before the middle daughter was to graduate, I found myself making a mad scramble to purchase bunk beds, find them places to stay so they could finish out the school year. The thing I did not expect was the horror stories they told about their lives living with their biological father. Their stepmother beat them with a belt on the legs til they bled. I could not even begin to understand how this had happened; I don’t think I ever will. Their stepmother threw them out of the house and punched the youngest one in the stomach. I went to a lawyer, but by the time the entire story came out, too much time had elapsed. The girls went to see a psychologist; they began to heal. Earl was there for us; he would listen patiently as I stormed around, after hearing some of what happened. Time was on our side. The middle daughter graduated. The youngest one gave me gray hair. She informed me that Karl Marx was a statue in Russia, Buffalo was on Lake Ontario, and I wondered when it moved from Lake Erie. I asked how she planned to pass with those types of answers. Her spelling was horrible. Earl smiled as I told him what she had said. He did not think it was funny, but told me he had gone to the same school and had most of the same teachers: that was the wrong thing to tell me.

Earl entered my life at a time when I was going through a living hell. He showed me that not all men were stinkers. Love turned me around; my path today is a great deal different than what I thought I wanted. We have been married forty-three years, wonderful years. He changed my life and my way of thinking. He is a sweet, kind man who changed my life forever.