Meeting

Ben and I met when we were 19. I was dating a friend of his, casually, and one night over a poker game we were introduced. At the risk of sounding ridiculous, the rest is history. A painful, beautiful, and amazing history. When we met, it was like finding the perfect dance partner. Every move was graceful. The conversation flowed like a good cocktail and I don’t think either of us stopped laughing the entire night. Within a few hours, it was clear I was there with the wrong person and he had just met the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his existence with. That sounds dramatic at 19, but you could ask either of us sixteen years later and we would still tell you the same thing. There are some things that at any age, you just know. Deep down, in your gut, in your soul where it counts. We knew. That night was the beginning of something neither of us were able to control and I don’t think either of us wanted to. We were young, we knew what we felt, but we were also so naïve.  

He had a sense of humor that I have rarely seen. The confidence that eminates from making a fool out of yourself for a laugh is attractive to everyone. He was surrounded by friends. Everyone loved him. He had that knack of making a friend in every store or restaurant he walked into. He was a charmer, but not in an un authentic way or misleading way. It came natural to him. I think to this day, he doesn’t realize his power when he walks into a room and he is completely unaware of how contagious his personality is. That night, I thought he was one of the most beautiful people I had ever met and I had no idea the depth of his spirit. I remember thinking that he must have the best parents because he had such an amazing, confident personality. I had never met anyone like him. Where I came from, everyone was a mess. No one had that kind of confidence. We all played games and authenticity was a word none of us understood. We wore masks that shielded us well, but I didn’t know anyone that was willing to show the best and the worst of themselves and laugh about the consequence.

I grew up in such a painful, violent and depressing environment. My father was an alcoholic that would die far too young and I was raised by a stepmother that hated the fact that I existed. She made sure I was aware of that on a daily basis. I was forced in and out of foster homes until I finally left home at fifteen. The physical abuse left me damaged and the mental abuse I endured left me completely broken. I began experimenting with drugs at the age of twelve and the experimenting quickly turned to dependence. By the time I met Ben, I was in a loveless, escape of a marriage and had 2 children, all before the age of twenty. I had been on my own for four years and had a cocaine habit that would have cleaned out Studio 54 every night. Even in that haze, I knew I had stumbled on something that by the grace of God would save me from myself. And that’s exactly what he did, unfortunately, at his expense and at times, mine as well.

We could not originate from more conflicting backgrounds. His family was picture perfect, literally. I think until I met him, I had never seen two people loved each other as much as his parents. You could see it when they looked at each other. The tone of their voices when they spoke to or about each other was softer than that in a general conversation. They had been married his entire life and he and his brother and two sisters were adopted. His father had been married previously and had children with his ex wife, but once divorced, he married the love of his life, Ben’s mother, and they spent all of their energy raising, supporting, enjoying and appreciating every one of their children. They were such a close, healthy and intimidating family. I had never experienced anything like it and I, to this day, have never felt so out of place. But I felt so comforted around them and they worked to make me feel welcome. His mother had a more difficult time and now, as a mother with a son nearly the same age, I understand. But she never understood the love Ben and I had for each other. The universal pull toward each other that we could not resist or deny. I think his father recognized it. He would introduce me to friends and family as the “love of Ben’s life”. I think he knew. He was a wise man. He saw it from the beginning. I felt loved when I was with his father. I felt almost as at home as I did with Ben. That’s not to say his mother wasn’t a good woman. Maybe one of the best, a mother bear protecting her cub as she should have. I still wonder now if she had some insight as to the heartbreak we would experience in our lifetime together. Maybe she had a maternal instinct and that’s what prompted her to keep me at a distance. And she did it well. She was always kind but I always felt like she was sensing my feeling that I wasn’t good enough for her son and reacting to that.