Seeing his ex marry
Last weekend I went to a wedding. It was an extremely tasteful event -- a magical outdoor setting, the priest eloquent and charming, vows resonating beyond standard wedding fare. The bride wore off-white and looked very beautiful, as all brides do.
Oh, and she was my ex-wife.
I don’t know how common it is for an ex-husband to attend his ex-wife’s wedding, but I’m guessing the answer is “not very.” We’ve been divorced for almost seven years and it’s been civil, even friendly, almost every step of the way.
We were always about our three children during the 15 years we were married. Somehow we managed to maintain this priority while navigating the pain and bitterness of our divorce. I see so many couples quickly turn from love to hatred once they divorce. Our divorce has had its share of angry moments, but we never allowed that anger to be at the expense of our children’s well-being.
Our love and commitment to our kids became a shield against whatever venom rose up between us.
That said, it was still a shock when I received an invitation to her wedding. We’d all spent time together on many occasions -- my ex-wife, her future husband, our children and his. Whatever discomfort and awkwardness may have existed between us was conquered early on.
There was no denying that her future husband was a good man who would love and care for her in the way she needed more than I ever had. There was no denying how uniquely fortunate we all were for the acceptance and peace that existed between all of us.
Still, did I belong at her wedding? Should I really watch my ex-wife marry another man? I wasn’t sure it was something I could do. I wasn’t sure it wasn’t challenging the civility between us beyond its capability.
Today’s family exists in multiple forms and equations. Mom, Dad and kids under one roof may still be the ideal, but modern society has rewritten the textbook and redefined this standard as simply one of many acceptable configurations. What were once my wife, our children and me has become my ex-wife, her husband, my kids, and his kids and, strangely enough, still me.
I wasn’t sure about attending the wedding until my 20-year-old daughter put it simply. “You have to go, Dad. You’re family.” It may not be the family I had planned on, but it was the family to which I now belonged. I also knew I was lucky to be a part of it.
Life has a relentless habit of reinventing itself for all of us. I never thought I’d be divorced. I’m also a cynic. I don’t believe in second chances at love, especially for middle-aged suburbanites toting the baggage of children and exes and all of that havoc that it creates.
But as the words “I do” were exchanged, I suddenly felt a renewed sense of optimism. Not to be sappy, but I realized how truly fortunate we all were. My ex-wife and her new husband are lucky to have fallen in love again. My children are lucky that their mom has allowed only the best of men into their lives. His children are lucky for the exact same reason.
As for me, I may have benefited most of all. My children are in good hands and my access to them will remain easy and often. I can release the guilt and sense of failure that I could never exorcise all these years. I’m still part of a family. Oh, and, no more alimony.
All things considered, I’m not sure I could have asked for anything more.
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