Years ago, when my life was falling apart, and I was in as deep a funk as I’ve ever been–when I was so far down that there seemed no up possible, because my (admittedly rocky, but still) marriage had crashed and burned, Bill Mumy said to me, “You know what’s going to happen? Years from now, you’re going to be lying in bed with another woman, and she’s going to be gorgeous, and you’ll be celebrating your ninth anniversary or something, and all of this stuff you’re feeling right now is going to be a distant memory and nothing more. It’s going to get better.”
And at the time I thought he was absolutely crazy, because I knew of an absolute certainty that not only would I never love anyone again, but that–far more dámņìņg–no one would ever have cause to love me.
And I was wrong and Mumy was right. And I offer that up as an object lesson for anyone who is feeling down in the dumps, for whatever reason: A failed marriage, a failed relationship, any emotional crippling of the soul, can eventually be nothing but a memory. Especially if you’re lucky enough to find the ideal mate, which I was fortunate enough to do.
I have never been happier, and it’s all because of her.
Happy ninth anniversary, Kathleen.
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