After twenty-five years

Two weeks ago, on Saturday morning, I was enjoying the view of the lake while drinking coffee. Rolf finally got up, came in, and was a jerk. At 11:30 AM, he went out to get something from the car, and I poured myself the first shot of the day.

It was a gardening weekend for us. And it was a good weekend. Once he settled in, and I was lightly lubricated, we worked well together beginning the process of transplanting twenty azaleas.

Mom and Dad came to dinner, bringing their truck. We loaded the azaleas before we cleaned up and had dinner. I was embarrassed at how much I was slurring my words together, and wishing that the evidence that I was drunk wasn't in the glass in front of me.

I had to be at church at 8:45 to sing at the early service. I was ashamed at how much I drank on Saturday, and tried "just for today" not to drink. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.

Rolf and I hurried to get to my folks house as soon as possible, trying to make some decisions before they got home from church and began giving us their opinions. Rolf and I developed a master plan for their woodland garden about four years ago; we installed it too. We're still trying to create the vision for them that we had in mind.

We created a woodland path dotted with azaleas and hosta. We began a new garden bed. . . with azaleas and hosta . . .and we added a group of azaleas to one other lone bush to make it a more dramatic impact. We worked from 12 - 7 without a break. Rolf, was a trouper. He's had some injury's to contend with, poison ivy behind his left knee, a pulled ligament in his right knee, and a swollen ankle, made it really hard for him to walk. He looked like Fred Sanford.

We had a lovely day. We crashed into bed by 10, exhausted and proud. And I didn't drink. Woo-hoo! A whole day without a drink. It's sick, but it was a small victory.

At 1:30 AM, Rolf woke up bug-eyed and yelling: "Jesus Fucking Christ! My car alarm is going off!" I didn't hear it. Taking out my ear-plugs, I listened for it to go off again, but I didn't hear it. Rolf was in a state of shock. With a litany of "Jesus Fucking Christ" he swore:

that he couldn't believe it was going off again, (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he had to go outside to disengage it, (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he couldn't be sure the disengage button was working (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that he wanted to take the car to the shopping center and leave it (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that all the clothes on the guest-room bed were mine, and not his (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that I am a horrible person and should be shot because I left my jeans where his clothes should be (Jesus Fucking Christ)
that I wasn't getting dressed fast enough (Jesus Fucking Christ)

I think I got back to bed at 3 and I had to take three hours of vacation leave on Monday because I didn't go in until 10. Rolf was home when I got home at 4:30, and gave me a tender hug saying: "Thank you for always being there for me."

I don't know how it happened in my head, but I decided that drinking wasn't making me safe from him, so I might as well stop. Drinking, like depression, can start with a reason, and get turned onto it's own self-starting cycle. It was hard, but I made it through the whole work week without a drink. The last drinking break I had was three days in November. This time I had 6 days.

And it was a good week. Just us at home, the picture of domestic bliss really. We had a wonderful weekend in Harper's Ferry, WV - but that's a side story really. Just know that we were great together, we had a wonderful time with each other, and I only drank at the wedding reception on Saturday, and I did not get drunk.

When we got home, we even planned on sex. It had been a long while, because of the poison ivy. It was about 6PM, and he says, you know, "when are we going to have sex again", and I said "We had better drop what we're doing right now and go for it, or else it will suddenly be late, and we'll be too tired. . . yes, we're old, we get too tired for sex." That really depressed him. We didn't do it. I don't know why. I continued with my simple dinner plan, but discovered we were out of eggs, so I had to go the store; dinner ended up being at 9PM. Then I fell asleep.

I wear ear-plugs to sleep, unless Rolf is away, because he snores. It used to be just a bit, but now that he's gained another 30 lbs., it's lounder, more constant, and worrisome. Usually, he's sweet about turning over. Even with ear plugs, we can't spoon with him behind me anymore, because he'll snore right in my ear. You cannot imagine how much I miss sleeping in his arms.

On Sunday night, he said "No."

Weird. I had been asleep, woken by his snoring. I said "Honey, turn over." "No," he said. "You're snoring in my ear" He said, "No. Just move over to the side of the bed." I raised my voice a bit and said "You can not sleep on your side and snore in my ear, move!" And he rolled onto his back.

Of course it made me mad. But with him, I have to get control of my temper and guess what's going on . . . and usually it's the same thing: he's not well. (The car thing from the previous week happened when he was in pain from the poison ivy, pulled ligament, swollen ankle, and sore muscles from the gardening labor.)

When he got home from work I asked him why he wouldn't move. I couldn't have been nicer.

"Honey, it was very weird last night that you wouldn't turn over. Is there something wrong? Do we need to switch sides of the bed again?"

And he yelled at me! I wasn't surprised. Because I knew that (frequently) he can not answer a direct question without reacting as if he was being attacked, I wanted to be sober. So I had not had a drink.

He went on a diatribe stating that laying on his right side when his liver was hurting kept him awake, and that's why he can't get up in the morning, because he doesn't get a good night's rest, and blah blah blah. If you didn't understand English, and you heard him, you would have guessed that he was saying "You fucking idiot, it's your fucking fault . ."

I did not change my helpful demeanor one bit, and said that it's no problem to change sides of the bed, we'd done it before because my shoulder was bothering me, we can switch back. . and that was that. and I did not drink.

Over the weekend, at breakfast in a glass room overlooking mountains, the river valley, and the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers; he looked at me and smiled the happiest smile and said "I am a very lucky man to have you."

"After twenty-five years," I said, "I can tell you for damn sure, that you're right."