My First Love

   The tears streamed down my face, leaving tracks as I quickly packed my things.  I hadn’t been here long, there wasn’t much.  My heart lamented silently, “I’m not good enough.”  My head wondered, “Would I ever be good enough?  Would anyone ever love me?” 

     I closed and locked the door.  He would come home from work and I would be gone.  My first love, my first heartbreak, and oh how it hurt.  We hadn’t known each other long, were friends a couple of years, and were head over heels in love for the last 6 months (at least that was when we told each other).  We had just started living together. 

     We had a situation come up, something that came between us, that we didn’t discuss or talk about.  We were 18, we didn’t know how to discuss anything serious.  I left, I had been thinking I wasn’t good enough, and this, this told me I wasn’t good enough.  Then when he didn’t come after me, I knew I wasn’t good enough.  I went to my dad’s and told him I had left him.  He asked me why, I sobbed, “I’m not good enough.”  And he never told me……… 

     Flash forward 42 years, after 3 failed marriages, which comprised 34 years of my life.  Still searching for the one, that unconditional love, someone to love me for me.  Dad said, “Your picker is broken. You got to keep doing it til you get it right.”  He was on #4, which lasted over 30 years, maybe he had something there.  I said, “I don’t think so, I am done!” 

     I spent those 34 years, always thinking I wasn’t worth much, punishing myself; with husbands, drugs, and alcohol.  The first one looking for love, the other two not to feel.  I, I wasn’t good enough, it was all me.  My choices in most things reflected that.  Not in work though, there I excelled like I had a second personality that was an overachiever and good enough. 

     At 52, I got clean and sober, the best decision I ever made.  Working the steps, and working on me.  Finally……that unconditional love…..and it came from me.  I had learned to Love Myself!  I worked hard on that and got to know myself. 

     My son died of an overdose 18 months later……I stayed sober, even there was a hole in my world.  My daughter had cancer……I stayed sober, was there through weeks of treatment, mending and growing our relationship.  My dad, with 39 ½ years sober, passed away unexpectantly……I stayed sober.  My mom got cancer, I was able to help with all she needed, sat with her during chemo, but a year later she passed away…….I stayed sober. 

     I worked at and completed most of my amends.  There were still a few left, very few but one of them was very important, the first one, my first love.  I was on Facebook one day, saw People You May Know, so I scrolled through.  My heart stopped……there was a picture of my first love……I think.  The name was the same yet the picture showed a bald man.  When I knew him, he had long curly hair.  I stalked his page, just to see if there were earlier pics.  Yep, it was him.  I reached out in Messenger, he was one of my last amends.  I didn’t know if he was married, had kids, anything about him.  I just wanted to apologize for leaving that night while he was working.  I said, “Hey voice from the past, reaching out to say hi.  Was wondering if you were the same boy I knew so many years ago? 

     Hit send and after a few months, forgot I had sent that message.  Almost one year later, actually 15 days short of a year, messenger notification went off and scared the crap out of me.  It was not a format I used very often or really at all.  I looked at my phone, he answered me!  He was my first love, my hands were trembling, my heart skipped a beat. 

     He said, “This is the same boy, though I don’t look the same.  How are you?”  At that moment, time stood still, the years fell away, it was 42 years ago, and we were 18 again.   

     We talked into the wee hours of the morning, neither of us wanting to stop.  Catching up on each other’s lives, the years.  Finally, sleep deprivation and both of us having to work in a couple of hours caused us to reluctantly end our texting. Tho I was a bit more tech-savvy, neither of us tried the video call, still, a bit timider, reeling in the whirling emotions we both felt.  He said he had just stumbled upon my message, not even sure how.  Said he wasn’t on Facebook that much, I said that’s apparent since it took you a year to answer me. 

      I found out he had been sober for 27 years, I had 7 ½ years.  He had been married for 29 years, his wife had died of cancer the same year my son died.  He wrote songs and still played guitar.  I still wrote, instead of poems, it was stories now and made miniature clay figures and houses.  He had worked in a machine shop for 28 years and was a business rep for the union now.  I had been in an avionics shop for 28 years and was managing one from home now.  He had a son and a granddaughter.  I had a daughter and 3 granddaughters.  He had a home in IL and I had one in FL. However, the shop I managed was in IL, not far from him. 

     We spent time texting back and forth on messenger for a week.  I wanted to hear his voice, was it the same?  I asked him to call me, I needed some advice on a work situation (someone had to make the first move).  He called, and yes, heart skipped another beat, the ice had been broken, and we had graduated to phone calls…….. on a daily basis. 

     Just so happened, a few weeks later, I was coming to IL, for work.  I would be arriving on Friday and we made plans to get together on Sunday.  I arrived at my best friend's house around 4, talked a bit; she went off to meet her honey and I went to meet a friend.  We sat chatting, my phone rang, looked down, and a smile broke out on my face.  Guess he couldn’t wait until Sunday.  Well, to tell the truth, neither could I. 

He gave me the address, I put it in wrong, still was, and am directionally challenged. He called to find out where I was and proceeded to talk me all the way to the door. He stood in the open door, silhouetted from the hallway light. I was transported back, I saw that boy I fell in love with, so long ago. We had laughingly told each other we had changed. He said he had put on a few pounds and was bald. I said I had put on a few myself, my hair was blonde (covers gray better), and my bottom teeth (partial) were like the stars and came out at night. Yet, as we looked into each other’s eyes, we were those young kids again. 

He opened his arms, I melted into his embrace, and it felt like coming home. We sat on the couch, feeling a little shy, a little hesitant, strange, huh, for two 59-year old's. We sat facing each other, sideways on the couch, and just talked, talked, talked. Not at all like when we were kids, we actually talked......about feelings, life, beliefs, family, hopes, dreams. We had grown up and older, yet it was like 42 years had never happened. 

As sleep started to creep in, the adrenalin wearing off, he asked me to spend the night. He wanted to do something no one had done for me before. He knew I went through my son’s death alone in many senses, I had my daughter but, in my home, alone. He said he just wanted to hold me and have me tell him about my son. I crumbled, it felt so good to cry, talk and feel those comforting arms around me. I fell asleep in his arms.  

The next morning, we woke early, got up, and started coffee. I looked at my phone, saw my neighbor had tried to contact me several times, and left messages to call. My neighbors were special, always keeping an eye on me and looking out for me. Her husband had gotten sick and his health kept declining. I told him just before I left, “Don’t leave me yet”. He said, “Don’t worry, I am not going nowhere until I know you are taken care of.” It was with dread I called my neighbor. She told me he had passed about the time I was being held and talking about my son. Guess he knew it was ok, I was going to be taken care of. 

The rest of the story is pretty much like the ending of a fairytale. I went back to FL, came back for 3 months to deal with the situation happening at work. We dated, hung out, and at the end of the 3 months, he asked me to move in with him. By then we were so in love, I closed up my house in FL, and went to reside in the frozen tundra. That must be love, I swore to never live there again. We made sporadic trips to FL, he loved the house and the area. Two years later we were married, barefoot, on the beach, and the idea of retirement started sneaking in. He had a high-stress job, Type 2 diabetes, and I was wanting years and years together. 

I crunched the numbers, and a year and a half later; we bought a motorhome, packed up what he wanted from his house in pods sent to FL, sold the house in IL, took our time in motorhome getting to FL, and started that happy road to retirement where every day is Saturday. 

Combined two households into one; combined two hearts into one; combined two busy lives into one retirement. How often do you get a 2nd chance at first love? How often do you find your soulmate and start a new life? I guess Dad was right; you keep doing it until you get it right. Dad never told me that the week before I left, he had gone to my father and asked permission to marry me. Guess Dad thought he was the one who said I wasn’t good enough, he didn’t know at that time, I was my own worst enemy. 

We are living the dream; retired, chasing our passions, and loving our life together. We are so in sync, so in tune, so much alike, so different, and so in love. Who says fairy tales don’t come true?