It has been said of remarriage that it is a triumph of hope over experience. When people take the plunge and marry again, despite having experienced the pain of loss through death or divorce, they are affirming their hope.
But isn’t that what love is all about?
Despite the knowledge that, inevitably, things will end, the desire for love is so powerful that some of us try again. And again.
I’ve said to my kids that it is a cold, cruel world out there, and doing it with a partner softens the blows. Of course, I’ve also tried to instill in my kids the smarts to choose wisely, to not just grab at a pretty face or empty charm. Look for people with substance, people holding values they can be proud to stand beside, I’ve told them.
This is not to say I’ve always chosen wisely. In my early 20s, I made a disastrous first marriage. The divorce was a bad one. Not that I think there is any such thing as a good divorce. When Gwyneth Paltrow claimed the ending of her marriage was simply, “conscious uncoupling,” I gagged. Come on, endings are painful. And endings when there are children involved are really, really painful.
After all, there exists in front of you a lifetime of birthdays, graduations, births, grandparenting and holiday dinners to be shared with someone who represents a painful chapter in one’s life.
I’ve been divorced from the father of my older two kids for nearly 40 years, and though we behave with civility toward one another at events celebrating our children and grandchildren, this man inevitably pushes my buttons. I grit my teeth as I smile and listen to his endless (I feel) self-aggrandizing stories. And, I am pretty sure he feels this same annoyance about my own irritating behaviors. But there are our children … now almost approaching middle age. So, we soldier on and behave ourselves.
After this divorce, I met my now-deceased husband. He was a considerate man, a healer who put others’ needs ahead of his own. Quiet and unassuming, he never flaunted his not-inconsiderable intelligence. We had two more children, me thinking hopefully that our marriage would last forever, or at least into old age. But that was not to be. He died in his late 40s of a particularly virulent cancer. This ending was different from divorce in so many ways, as death is. I had countless wonderful memories and none of the bitterness. Our friends and his colleagues extolled his kindness to the children. He had so many gifts and talents. I never had to fake affection when I spoke of him. His biggest flaw was in leaving us, me and the children, and the world, much too soon.
After this early divorce and also early widowhood, one would think I’d hang up any illusions of a happy marriage. A less optimistic person than me might have said, “I’ve had it.” But, I still believed what I told my kids: Having a partner is a blessing. Divorce, death, I knew loss. I knew how much it hurts. Yet, I hung onto the belief that sharing one’s life is a good thing.
Somehow, after 10 years of widowhood, I was fortunate enough to meet my now-husband. He didn’t check any of the boxes I thought were important. We were very different, yet below the surface, we had all the same values. He even grew up working in his father’s Chinese restaurant in Colorado, while I grew up working in my dad’s delicatessen in Chicago: both of us children of hard-working restaurant owners.
It took me a while to take the plunge again. I insisted that my now-husband have a complete medical work-up. He was younger than me and appeared in perfect health, but he hadn’t been to a doctor in a long time, so I asked that he have all the medical screenings someone his age should have.
There are no guarantees against loss. But I did my due diligence. Silly me. He could score perfectly on a medical work-up and the very next day be hit by a bus. That is an absolutely dreadful thought, and I cringe as I write it. But, it’s true. There are few guarantees in life.
Face it, readers. There is always risk when it comes to relationships. And deciding to enter a new one is, indeed, a triumph of hope over experience.
My husband and I have been married for nearly 15 years. We have been so lucky. We have each other during this terrible pandemic. Even in lockdown, we’re still enjoying each other’s company — most of the time. We have relatively good health for people our age and while not wealthy, we want for nothing important. I know that we have no guarantees. That is the nature of loving. We risk loss, but the rewards are so great.
Elayne Klasson, PhD in psychology, is a writer and recent transplant to the Valley. She was formerly on the faculty at San Jose State University. Her recent novel, Love is a Rebellious Bird, was released in November 2019. She can be reached at elayneklasson@gmail.com.Elayne Klasson: Remarriage, a triumph of hope