To The Man Who Holds My Heart and My Children:

I sit here, at the end of what I am certain is our most difficult parenting day to date, completely in love with the man you have become. When we met those ten and a half years ago, I knew there was something about you, something I wouldn’t be able to find in anyone else. Now, I know that is true. I’m not certain what exactly I did to deserve you, but I will tell you I do not take a single ounce of your love for granted.

My love, you are compassionate.

You don’t hesitate to scoop our babies up into your arms after they fall down and get hurt. You even sympathize with their devastation over a broken toy and tickle their sadness away. In the midst of my own tears, you quickly wrap me in a silent hug and let me bury my head into your chest until my grief has subsided. No matter how big or small the situation, you listen, you understand, and you care.

You are the most unselfish person I have ever met.

At the end of a long day at work, you come home, do the dishes, start the laundry, and still somehow find time for raucous Daddy Wrestlemania sessions with our kids. It makes me grin from ear-to-ear when I hear them giggling and squealing with glee, knowing that with each flerbert to the belly or tickle behind the knee, our kids’ self confidence is skyrocketing.

The kids and I are always top priority, even above yourself. Quite often, even when dinner is waiting for you when you get home, you don’t end up eating until after they are tucked in and the house is settled. Yet, I have never heard you complain.

You have come home early from work on days when I just simply need you there with me. You cared for me and completely took over all of the housework when I was dealing with awful morning sickness. You surprise me with coffee for no real reason at all, other than you love me. You run errands, take the kids out to the park to give me a break, and let me sleep in on the weekend, all at the expense of your own time and comfort. You, my love, are incredibly unselfish.

Best of all, you are hilarious.

You are unafraid of being yourself, and because of this, you are teaching our children to behave the same way. What an amazing gift you are instilling in our kids! I cannot tell you how many times I have dissolved into a fit of laughter over watching you play with the kids.

Say they want you to act like a monkey. Well, you don’t settle for a little lame armpit scratching and “Ooh-ooh-aaaaah!” Oh no. You go full out. You crouch down, knuckles on the ground and fully imitate a gorilla making the loudest “Oooh-ooooh-OOOHAAAAAAHAAAH!” you can. The kids are so entertained and so excited about their daddy, the monkey, they can hardly even muster the strength in their little legs to run away. Instead, they often run toward you, just to be caught in the Monkey Daddy tickle grasp.

I think the tee-shirt you proudly wear tells it all: Men Who Change Diapers Rule. You are proud of your Daddy-ness, and aren’t afraid to flaunt it.

Most guys would cower at the idea of doing “Mom stuff,” but you’re different. You don’t hesitate to put your newborn daughter in a wrap and wear her against your chest. One day, when she’s older and into girly things, I wouldn’t doubt that you’ll be right down on the floor with her, having a tea party, pretty pink cup in hand.

You aren’t afraid of these things, because you have an amazing sense of humor about yourself and about life. You know what is important, and you know that being a good dad makes you a great man.

And in the end, you are a manly man.

You love sports, time with the guys, and poker. You deal with the “guy stuff” of the house, like car maintenance and yard work. You always pick out action movies to watch and would be perfectly content eating hamburgers smothered in barbecue sauce every day for the rest of your life. You are my man, my protector, and my security.

Some may argue that a “real man” does the manly stuff around the house, all the dirty work and sweat labor. I would beg to differ, based on the real man I see in you. Real men kiss owies and sing lullabies. Real men change diapers and don’t flinch at being peed on by newborns. Real men love their kids and don’t hesitate to let them know at every possible opportunity.

You are as real as they get.

I could not ask for a better husband, father to my children, or best friend. I see the adoration in the eyes of our children when they greet you at the door after work squealing, “Daddy!” and smothering you in hugs and kisses. I see it throughout the day when you take just a little extra time to play cars or Hide and Seek. I see it at night, when you kiss them and tuck them into their beds. I pray that I am half the parent to our children that you are. I pray for half of your patience, your compassion, and your unselfishness.

But mostly, I am thankful. I am thankful for the man I fell in love with, the man you have become, and the man you will grow to be. We are all so lucky to have you in our lives. You have singlehandedly made this world a better place by being the amazing man you are.

So, this Father’s Day, though we don’t have money for fancy gifts and though our children are behaving more like wild beasts than our sweet little offspring, know that we appreciate what you do for us. Know that we love you. Most of all, know that there isn’t a single person in the entire world who could ever come close to filling your shoes.

Forever yours,
Your adoring wife
~~~

Lindsay Maddox is a freelance writer who seeks to find humor in parenting every day. In addition to nonfiction writing, she will have several fiction short stories published in upcoming Accentuate Anthologies. To learn more about Lindsay, check out her website and blog at http://lindsaymaddox.com.

Brian,

When you left, I wanted to be angry. I couldn’t find it in me, but I wanted to be angry. Sometimes, in anger, you find strength and I desperately needed strength. But I couldn’t get angry. The only thing I felt was sadness. Overwhelming sadness.

You left me for someone else. You lied about it, but I knew the truth. I had always known the truth, all along, but knowing and wanting to see or act on the truth are different things. I was miserable, but somehow, I was comfortable in my misery. It was familiar. It was… safe?

As I knew would happen, you left… and that’s when I wanted to be angry. Eventually, a few months later, the anger did hit me, and the more I became angry, the more I learned about the truth of your deception… oh, how many months I played a fool.

What fueled my anger? I was angry that you thought I was stupid enough that I didn’t know.

I knew. I knew all along. I was imply too tired, too miserable and too sick to do anything about it.

So you did what I couldn’t bring myself to do and you left. You left me for her. I will never forget the day when I discovered the whole, unadulterated truth of adultery… your adultery, infidelity. You broke my trust, but that wasn’t really even the worst of it. You kept me hanging on by a thin thread, ‘just in case’ things didn’t work out between you and the whore who you let seduce you.

Typically I wouldn’t call the other woman a whore, because I’d figure she was simply lied to by you as much as I was, but in this case, it was very clear she knew exactly what the score was when she posted blog posts laughing about how stupid I was for not knowing how long this had all been going on. She laughed, reveled in it.

You used me, and yet, I truly put as much fault and blame on her as I do on you. You see, you used me, but that’s just who you are. She knew better and chose to act the way she did. I don’t think you can help it. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.

So when you came to me and I finally confronted you, I told you then, “She’s going to cheat on you, do to you what you just did to me, and she’s going to break your heart and trust. I hope I’m there to see it when it happens.”

Guess what? I was there. It happened, and I was there.

And I learned something. It’s true that what goes around comes around. It’s true that we get back what we put out into the world. It’s also true that living well truly IS the best revenge.

When you asked me if I was happy, and I said I was, I could clearly hear the sadness in your voice. You had hope… hope, such a volatile little word. I had hope once. I had hope for a family and a friend and a lover who I could trust, who would treat me right, never hurt me, never break my trust. You promised those things to me, and you failed.

Now it’s you who comes back to me and has hope. You want me back. You regret so much. You miss me and wish you had never made the mistakes you have made. You still love me.

But I don’t love you anymore.

Do you know how powerful it is to be able to say that and truly mean it?

See, I don’t wish you ill will. I don’t want you to hurt. I’ve moved past you and on with me life. There was a time I sought revenge and wished you ill, but I don’t anymore. Now, I just want you out of my life. I don’t hurt for you anymore. I’m not angry anymore. I’m not sad, not upset, not worried, not bothered… I simply… don’t… care.

Retribution.

Universal justice.

And I didn’t have to do a thing to make that happen.

I’m not happy you’re hurting, but I don’t hurt for you. I’m not taking pleasure in your pain, but I’m not feeling pain for or with you. I’m not excited that my prophecy came true.

But I am satisfied.

So did I write this letter to gloat, brag about how good my life is?

No.

I wrote this letter because I want to thank you. I want to thank you for treating me so horribly that I could recognize, truly treasure, when someone came along who treats me good. I want to thank you for leaving, so that I was free to choose to love when he did come along. I want to thank you for being strong enough or stupid enough to walk away when I was not strong enough to do so for myself.

I also want to thank you for giving me back my faith in the universe, perhaps even my faith in God. I’ve always been told that you reap what you sow, that what goes around comes around, that what you put out there comes back to you multiplied.

Guess what? You proved that. Thank you for proving that to me. That you for affirming my faith in universally dealt justice. Because, you see, if it’s true that you reap what you sow, I’ve planted a nice harvest in my world, my life, my heart. I know now that it will all come back around for me.

In fact, it’s already started…. It started when he said, “I do, with all my heart, I do…” and it continued when you said your life had come full circle.

Now I move forward firm in the knowledge that I will get my due, reaping a harvest of love, faith, generosity and gratitude.

For the first time since you left, I can honestly say, “I wish you well…”

No longer yours,
Karla