Happy Birthday, Joe

Yesterday (May 20^th) was my ex-husband’s 50th birthday. This knowledge struck me quite resoundingly when I looked at the calendar while watching the Cubs game. “Happy Birthday, Joe,” I whispered into the great void.

I have not seen him since we were in our 30’s. Being in my company always seemed to pain him, so I stayed away and grossly limited conversation. In fact, our last discourse was sixteen years ago, just a few days prior to my Father’s death. I phoned to let him know the impending gloom, for my Father was quite fond of him, and visa versa – “Tiger” and “Coach" were their nicknames for each other. We exchanged a handful of answering messages in the few years following. That is all.

It is alarming to think I have been alone for all these years. Looking back, measuring my days by another’s life, makes it somehow more acute a realization. I know not whether he is with another, has found love, or if he has come to terms with the uber-Christian constraints of intimacy that drove a spoke through, and finished off, our relationship. I hope he has a partner, male or female, with whom to share his life, and season tickets to AT&T Park. He is a gentle soul, not meant to forage boldly alone in the world like I, one who sways with the swish of sword against the battery of life’s events. His parents, especially his minister father, dictated almost all his directions. Marrying me was not in the portfolio of goals for their middle child.

Alas, if he is 50 than I am but a shy 18 months away from my own ascension to that esteemed club. In my family that is no worthy admittance, for my paternal grandfather died at 46 of heart disease, and on my maternal grandfather’s side all the Santos died in their 50’s and 60’s of cancer. Only great-aunt Betty reached the magical number 70, only to die of cancer a few months afterward. Such DNA I would never wish upon another.

Regardless of genetic inheritance, human hearts can love, and thrive, through adversity. It is our nurture, not our nature, which most confuses us in our sexuality and choice of mate. If we could be but honest and true to our hearts, and unafraid of parental repercussion, what could we truly strive to create, and who could we unconditionally love?

So happiest of birthdays, Joe. May the Giants win the West (but not the Pennant!) and may this but be the midpoint of all your earthly days. Live long and prosper, good sir. You are most deserving of all life can bestow upon a soul so warm.