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One day they brought tears to my eyes when, after a raucous game of me holding them upside down and tickling them, we snuggled on the couch to watch a movie. “I’m so glad you’re part of my family.”Beka was the one who worked the hardest to make me part of the family.
She invited me to birthday parties and smoothed the socially turbulent waters by introducing me to friends who had been indignant on her behalf.
She assumed you would be about 25.”Then Beka surprised us both. Beka surprised us both with her magnanimity and willingness to give up Josh.
I was sort of hoping she’d sob and weep some more at her loss, but this “come for dinner” thing threw me. My smugness feels huge and ungainly next to her kindness.After many years of struggle, I recently had learned I had bipolar II disorder, which meant I finally had the right medicine.But I was wrestling with shame as I realized how many of my spectacularly bad decisions had been influenced by mental illness.I had to learn how to trust others and myself, and at times it felt like I would never get there. “I am married to a wonderful, successful, beautiful woman,” he said. But I’m not, so I have decided that I am not going to calculate anymore.” As we spent more time together, everything about our relationship felt natural.There was no imbalance in our love for one another, and we shared the same values and sense of humor.On a sticky Sunday in August, when Josh and Beka’s children were staying with his mother, he asked her for a divorce. Then she grew so angry that she shook.“I could handle her anger,” he said. It’s unthinkable for me to dismantle all we’ve built. After hours of shouting, however, she began to feel better than she had since Josh first mentioned divorce. ” I didn’t see how a dinner could be pulled off without the whole thing erupting in open conflict or stalling into awkward silence. “I had to meet you,” Beka said as she opened the door.