Letting Go

NOTE: This entry was composed at 6:20 AM on Sunday, July 25, 2010, in anticipation of August 14, 2010.

I compose this entry, which will mark the final entry of this blog, in anticipation of August 14, 2010, the date that would have been my first wedding anniversary. Rather than spending this day next to "my partner-in-life, soul mate, man of my dreams, and ... legal spouse" (see my post of Tuesday, July 7, 2009), in celebration, I will pass the day hundreds of miles away from him, mostly alone. On Thursday, January 21, 2010, Charlie announced his decision to go his own way. Less than six months after our wedding, my marriage ended, not of my accord. In order for me to marry Charlie, I had to believe that January 21 was an impossibility, and I did. I honestly thought Charlie was going to be the man to bury me.

Much of this year has been spent grieving. Only the death of a spouse could rival this loss. In many ways, it feels like death. As one coworker put it, "It's the death of a dream." In the aftermath, I have been left with a series of questions, which will probably haunt me for the rest of my life, the most significant one being, "Why?" Why did my marriage die? I haven't received a satisfactory answer. I'm not sure I ever will.

Oddly enough, Charlie and I continue as a married couple, though our lives couldn't be anymore separated. On a spiritual level, the marriage has died; our bond has been broken. But, the state that married us (i.e., Iowa) refuses to allow us to divorce, because neither of us is a resident of that state. From a constitutional perspective, neither Missouri, the state in which I now reside, nor Texas, where Charlie remained, recognizes our marriage. Interestingly enough, a district court judge in Texas has asserted that "Texas' ban on same-sex marriage violates the constitutional guarantee to equal protection under the law," averring that "the court 'has jurisdiction to hear a suit for divorce filed by persons legally married in another jurisdiction'" ("Texas judge," 2009, ¶1 and ¶ 2). So, I guess Charlie could file for divorce if he wanted to … if he was aware of this case … if he gave it a passing thought.

When one goes through the demise of one's most intimate relationship, I think there are naturally myriad questions—in addition to "Why?" If you believe your former spouse was your soulmate—as I once did, you ponder if you had it pegged wrong, if the concept of soulmate really exists, if you will ever find another. You also question the nature of love. I haven’t resolved the whole soulmate thing, but I’ve come to some very definite conclusions about love within the context of my marriage. I loved Charlie, but I don’t think Charlie loved me, not in the true sense of the word anyway. I believe Charlie was in love with me for a period of time, which prompted him to do some very loving things for me. But, being in love is an entirely emotional matter; true love is a choice. In my estimation, true love endures, certainly well beyond six months of marriage. Even if your spouse isn't the most desirable individual—and I'll concede I had my share of faults and idiosyncrasies, true love is long-suffering and doesn't give up. Perhaps one day Charlie will understand the nature of true love and be able to really commit to someone. That's my hope and prayer for him anyway. He's young, just like I was. I'm pretty sure I didn't get it until quite late in my twenties.

Charlie was the inspiration for this blog, and I had high hopes for it. I wanted to chronicle each step of the path to our marriage as well as address the various details of the GLBTQI struggle for equal marriage rights. Unfortunately, I didn’t get very far before life took over and consumed us; as I mentioned in my post of January 14, a lot happened in 2009. Recently, I saw the title of a book in Barnes & Noble that seems most apropos: We Plan, God Laughs. I'm hoping someday G-d will share the humor in the events of this year—and last. Now that Charlie is gone, I feel this particular blog should conclude. It's not that I don't feel just as passionate about the issue of same-sex marriage, but this blog was dedicated to him. And now that he's moved on, I need to as well. For awhile, I thought seriously about simply taking the blog down. After considerable rumination, though, I decided against that course of action. Too much effort, passion, and love created these few pages. I think that should still be honored. Moreover, information is contained herein that could potentially be of use to other same-sex couples that will come after us. I hope it is. I couldn't be any more joyful—or honored—than if this information led another couple to wedded bliss. In spite of everything that's happened, I still say marriage is worth it; love is worth it. My hope and prayer for myself is that, one day, I will have another chance at it.

As I say goodbye to everything that was once precious to me (Charlie, my marriage, my life in Texas, this blog, etc.) and open myself to new possibilities, I’ve decided to commence a new blog, entitled Me 2.0. Over the last several years, a number of people have remarked that I should write my story. So, Me 2.0 will be my attempt to tell my story with unabashed honesty and candor. Interspersed within the story, my audience will continue to find my rants and musings on spiritual matters, same-sex marriage, GLBTQI issues, and anything else I might be compelled to write about. I also intend to throw in a book review or two when I read prose I think might be of benefit to someone else. In short, the new blog will be an eclectic hodge-podge of personal narrative, spiritual and political discourse, and informal, rudimentary literary analysis. Hopefully, it's expanded breadth will appeal to a wider audience. If you're interested, you may check out Me 2.0 at the following address: http://www.christopherzenner.com/.

Thanks for visiting Rants and Musings of the Gay Guero. Kol tuv.

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Reference

Texas judge clears way for gay divorce (2009, October 1). USA TODAY. Retrieved July 25, 2010, from http://www.usatoday.com