Loss

I haven't written in while. I thought I would have had more time these last couple of days, but alas, I have not. Usually when hubby is away I get some free time to think and write, but this last week just flew by and I am still behind schedule.

What is strange is that I often think of different things I would like to write about. Everything from the latest movie I have seen to the dream I had last night, but when I sit in front of the computer my mind turns into a white puffy cloud were there isn't a drop of thought. Maybe there is just too much pressure to perform. But for whom.....? Very few that visit my blog (if any) actually know who I am, so what does it matter, right? That would seem to be the case, but I guess it is more personal pressure to say something worthwhile and articulate. I don't want to open my head and have it poop words all over the place. I suppose saying "poop" pretty much removes the "worthwhile and articulate" part. How about I just stick with honest.

The last couple of months, something has been eating at me, but I haven't been able to figure out how I really feel about it.
I have a cousin whom I was once very close to. We are 363 days apart (I am older), and until we were about 3-4, we were essentially raised together. I have always felt we had a strong bond even if we weren't near each other or when we hadn't spoken to each other for years. When I moved back to Utah, I was so excited to finally get to spend time with him again. Within a few weeks of moving back, I contacted him and it was like no time had passed. It was Ben and Bin again.
Within weeks we got together for dinner, movies, bike races, walks, parties, etc... . I met some of his friends and we all got along great.

I also new that he was very lonely having just ended a 9 year relationship. He really wanted to be married with the 2.5 kids, minivan, and white picket fence. He was in love with the whole "Leave it to Beaver" idea of life. I often laughed at his naivety, which in hindsight I should have looked a little deeper without the laughter. Being married for the many years I have, you soon realize that June must have been shooting up on a regular basis, and that good ol' Ward probably visited sex shops on his way home from work.
Reality is that marriage is more about a good friendship that can last and endure the pain life throws at you and not about the 4 bedroom 3 bath McMansion with side impact airbags and a six figure income for those "happy" family vacations.
I guess in my own way, I tried to tell him what I thought was true love, which conflicted with his fantasy he had concocted in his mind from childhood.

After a few months of paling around, I left to be with my husband in Germany. I was gone for many months and when I arrived home I called him to see how things went while I was away. To my surprise he had fallen madly in love with someone. "This is the one," he said. "I am crazy about her." My happiness quickly turned to uncertainty when he told me she was Mormon. Not just any Mormon, but return missionary and president of the Relief Society (which is the adult female part of the church). She also has a Masters degree from BYU. Okay, okay.....I held my breath as my own past memories of dating in Zion flashed before my eyes. I knew conversion would be eminent for this relationship to continue. I asked him what his plans were regarding the "religion" aspect of their relationship (I think you could hear the egg shells cracking in the background). He said that he had spoken with some missionaries she had brought to the house, and would probably be baptized soon. My jaw hit the floor.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I told him I loved him and supported him and whatever he decided to do, I would always be there. I told him my only concern was that he was jumping into conversion without really giving it any thought. My fear was that he was leaping into a faith so he could soon jump into her pants. For me, when one considers the spirit and the guidance offered in so many religions for that spirit, one would take time to pray and meditate over it, at least for a few months. If he had called me up and said that he had been seeking a spiritual course, a religion to associate with, I would be happy for him no matter the church. But knowing that this was her wish, and his wish was to be with her and please her, his spirit was the up for grabs and he appeared more than willing to give it away.

After a few days, he called me to tell me that his baptism was scheduled in 3 weeks and he would like me to attend. I asked him if he felt that this was the right church for him. He said the missionaries have been over a few times and decided he was ready for baptism asap. "So you must believe that Mormon church is the one and only true church?" His response shocked me and confirmed my fears, "Nope. In fact, I told the missionaries that I didn't believe that Joesph Smith found any gold tablets or any of that stuff." Whaaatttt? "But they are still going to convert you?" I said, "Isn't that a cornerstone to their beliefs?" It's like saying your a Catholic but don't believe in Christ. The sad part was that he didn't seem to mind. It didn't matter to him one way or the other. He was doing it only to be with her, to make her happy, her family happy (her father wouldn't even say hello to him until he found out he would convert), and to fit in.

I attended the baptism and I won't go into great detail except to say that it was exactly what I expected. Everyone cried. His old family and friends and "their ways" (to quote the Bishop) were sad to see this wonderful, loving man be taken from their lives, and his new, worthy family and friends crying because he has found the "good and righteous" path. After being insulted at every front during the baptism and afterwards by the ward who apparently felt it was more appropriate behavior to stuff their faces with potato salad than to speak with any of Ben's family, I left and went home, quietly crying as if I had just been to a funeral.

After about a month, I called Ben because I missed him and wanted to see him. My husband had returned home and I was desiring to do couple stuff. I also thought if I made an effort, then it could still be possible to stay connected. I invited he and his now fiance, Erin over for dinner. I figured that if it was just the 4 of us, we could get to know each other and maybe become really good friends. This type of optimism is usually considered an endearing quality, but it usually sets me up for disappointment, this time being no different.

After being 45 minutes late, they showed up. The meat drying out and my husband already annoyed by me asking him not to drink any beer, we were a little pissed that they didn't call to say they would be so late. Additionally, Erin was getting a cold and appeared that she had just woken up. I understand not wanting to break plans, but when your sick, you need to call and reschedule, for every one's sake. The evening went on fairly well. Generally, Erin ignored me and only spoke to my husband about his career. The only words I received were that I was a "working widow." Unbeknownst to me, I was a victim of my husband's career. I found this statement not only insulting to me, but also to our marriage. Apparently respect for marriage in her eyes is only those marriages that fit her criteria of the "right" marriage. During dinner Ben and I joked with each other, like we always had. It was obvious that Erin did not approve. She just kind of sat there with a "Gosh, I would really rather be somewhere else" look on her face. The writing was on the wall. There would be no friendship brewing between her and I.

That gnawing optimism arose again when I decided to have a family party. I invited them in the hopes of having the whole family together so she might see that we were a fun loving family. The first thing we all noticed was that Ben, well......wasn't Ben. He had grown his hair out from his buzz cut to a rather homely bowl cut. He was the first to point out that it was her that wanted it longer for their wedding pictures. He seemed quiet, distant, and afraid to say anything. It was almost as if he had become ashamed of us, as if we were now somehow less acceptable to him. A year ago, he was being as goofy and fun as any of the rest of us, and now he sat in silence, hiding in the corner, holding her hand. After the party, I gave him a hug and said "call me, let's go out sometime." He smiled "yah, I will." I knew that would be the last time I would ever see Ben, the Ben I knew, again.

They were married 2 months later and I haven't heard from him since (10 months ago). Sometimes I want to call him just to say hi, to see how married life is treating him. But something stops me. I get to the phone, pull up his number, and then put the phone down. I feel that I have made an effort, even at trying to get to know Erin (she did manage to have 3 bridal showers, of which none of Ben's female family member were invited to attend). I feel angry, sad, resentful, and rejected.

I know I will be having another family party this holiday season. I will send him an invitation, but unlike past invites, I expect this one to be rejected. Like the Bishop said, my family and I are his old family with our "ways." He has chose this new, better path. Funny thing is, this is the church that preaches "family first." I guess some members believe that to mean only the families that believe the same way they do.