Anger

I would get angry. 

It wasn’t too often but some time something would happen with me or with Marty or any number of other things and I would get mad, mad at the situation, mad at a store clerk, mad at a caregiver, even mad at Marty.

It was almost always stupid stuff but occasionally things would blow and then everything was a mountain.  It was and is a losing proposition.  I recognize it’s a real part of life, we get sad, we get happy, we get mad. It never felt good, it never felt like the purge was worth it.

We would be sitting in our chairs, kicked back, relaxed and then Marty would make an egregious mistake, one that was world shaking,  like spilling her drink on herself and I would have to get off my lazy backside and clean up the mess and her.

I can still hear myself, kvetching, complaining, angrily chastising Marty for something remarkably benign, for something she couldn’t help, for daring to be broken and unable to clean herself or her mess. 

I would rant and rave, she would sit placidly, listening, absorbing the ridiculous anger as I wiped up spilled Diet Coke (hey, it’s sticky).  I would tell her she had to be more careful because of how it affected me.  Too often I would go too long and bless her soul, all Marty would do is apologize.

Eventually sanity would take hold and I would get the mess cleaned up off the chair and off Marty and the quiet in the house would essentially point at me saying, “You are an idiot, this is not worth it.”

I would listen to the quiet and then feel the guilt of being angry at someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t defend themselves.  The guilt would then be something I could be angry about and I would mutter under my breath about how “she” was making me feel. 

Again, idiocy.

At that point in time I would have no choice but to face my own failings and look at Marty and with sincerity, real sincerity, apologize, one more time.  “I’m sorry I got so angry, it was a small thing, it wasn’t worth my reaction.” 

She would simply say, “That’ okay.” 

That’s it, no recriminations I so richly deserved and frankly wanted. She would just say, “It’s okay, I understand.”  And, she would mean it, it was a deep forgiveness, as authentic as one can be when someone else has been unreasonable and angry with you over something stupid. 

Her reaction was both inspiring and maybe a little frightening.  How do you deal with real and total forgiveness when you have acted the fool?  I have to say, there is nothing like it, there is nothing so real, nothing so powerful, nothing so elevating as having someone say to you with meaning, “you are forgiven.”

While too often I felt shame at my unreasonable anger and reactions, the love and kindness my broken bride extended to me was the balm to my bruised psyche. 

“I forgive you.”  Time after time we danced our circular dance and time after time, “I forgive you.” 

Where else do you get that?

Oh yeah, God.  Marty wasn’t God like, she was all too human as was I, but as God granted all of us a reprieve from our sins even when forgiveness wasn’t deserved;  Marty, the human, did that for me, every single time.