While watching an old Corrie (Sally & Kevin's wedding in 86) last night, Ian and me and everything that happened all fell into place. He loved me; he lived a double life but couldn't keep it going. He was an addict. He was bipolar and bisexual. He was adopted. We bonded with each others' mothers on a deep level. We really hurt each other. Christ when I think of what I did to that guy. And I do believe now that neither of us ever wanted to hurt each other. We were young, we were partying way too much, we were crazy. We stopped partying and got healthy. We were each getting very successful. Shit happened. Then he died. It's all that simple.
I came across our wedding party photo the other day. Aside from thinking, "Wow, Ian's dead, Seth's dead, Bunny's dead," (which is the first thing I always think, you don't get over things like that), and all of us being so incredibly young, I thought, "What the Hell was I thinking?" Well, I wasn't thinking. I was madly in love. Emphasis on mad. And so was Ian. It's time to forgive ourselves for that. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
We were married 7 1/2 years when he died. Legally separated and living apart, and in touch. I'd known him 9 years. The very best years of my life (all 2 of them, but ya know, some people don't get any) were with him. Which makes the Hell worth it somehow.
Finally, all these years later I wonder what would've happened if he'd lived. We were just as miserable and jealous apart as we were together, but we were never that happy with anyone else, either. The last time we hung out alone, we laughed like we had way in the beginning. Nobody made me laugh like Ian did. I wonder if lasting relationships are about just muddling through until you fall in love again. Though I'm still not sure I breed well in captivity.
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