All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

I can deal with the uncertainty of the universe.

Yet I'm hung up on the uncertainty of
what is us.

I just really hope that you’re okay.

That’s all.

I have spent my worst days with you
I have spent my best days with you
Yet I live everyday, without you.

May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.

I saw something recently,

that talked about how in your relationships, 80 percent is what you should strive for.

That 100 percent is nearly impossible,
so if 80 is fulfilled,
you should be thrilled.


This, I do agree with.


Instantly, and without a second thought, he gave me the 80 that I begged you for years to at least pretend to extend my way.

Never, ever will I have to beg for an “I love you so much,” or a thousand “you’re so beautiful” from him.

He wants to have a family and be an active, present participant in all things that entails.

He is so excited to do anything as long as I’m there, and isn’t upset at the sight of other peoples happiness.

He does not use anger or fear to intimidate me or others around him.

And he has never left me, broken on the floor, drowning in my own tears while I question my worth.

Sometimes I wake in the morning, with a heart so full of gratitude, filled by the man who feels like so many answered prayers, that the overflow can only come out in the form of joyous tears.

And it makes me feel so overcome with guilt that you and your stupid 20 percent,

though coming from a place of pain,

in the dead of night,


leave me sobbing all the same.

Most of your life, you have masqueraded your pain with anger.

Angry that your dad left,
Angry that your mom had to shift her focus to work,
Angry about your adoption,
Angry and bitter about past lovers and ones that never were.

Refusal for therapy, doors ripped clean off their hinges, the most venomous words, and even more terrifying actions.

You were so consumed by deep sadness that you could only translate in to rage,

so wounded by the ones that left,


you punished the ones who stayed.


For the last 10 years, I’ve known your hurt feelings to be so vast and expressed in so many different ways, that it was practically a limb to you,

a mess that others would constantly have to tiptoe around and clean up after.


Abandonment was a box you were given so early in life, a sort of “anti-gift” that cut you so deeply.

So tell me,

Why would you turn around,

and hand that box,




To our daughter?