Being the Bigger Person Isn't for the Weak of Heart & Doesn't Always Yield Desired Results

The day started off like most of them did back then. The sunlight was streaming through the window burning right through my closed eyelids and sending the all too familiar shock wave of pain to my brain. Before I even opened my eyes my heart was filled with impending doom. I knew instinctively that as crappy and hard as the days preceding had been, that day was going to suck just a teensy bit more.

The date was November 19, 2007. It was the birthday of my children's handsome, successful, wonderful father, the one time man of my dreams, love of my life. We would be celebrating it at the cemetery.

He had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and after an "episode" that temporarily paralyzed the entire left side of his body, had been put on Lexapro, a medicine that can increase suicidal tendencies. Had the doctor checked he may have found out the the poor fella had also been diagnosed as a bi-polar, manic depressive back in college. A disorder he pulled the short straw on and inherited from his father. Turned out that Lexapro + Manic Depression + MS = More than he could take.

Our daughter was 11 at the time, our son 16. She said she was in the kitchen looking in the fridge when her daddy came home carrying two containers of breakfast from Denny's, one for her and one for her brother. He told her to go wake her brother up and come and eat. When she mentioned that there was only enough food for two, he explained that the restaurant had run out of food and there was only enough for her and brother. She thought nothing of it and went to fetch her big bro. By the time the kids got to the kitchen, he had left. That was the very last time she would ever see her daddy alive.

He drove to Turnberry Towers, a very elite highrise community in the heart of Las Vegas. He told the agent on site that he wanted to see the highest unit with the best view. He was taken to a gorgeous condo on the 39th floor. The real estate agent left him alone on the balcony to take in the amazing view of the city he had helped build. When recalling the terrible incident, the agent remembered hearing my beloved ex-husband say, "Wow. This is a great view." Then he jumped.

The children would later say that I may as well have been tied to his shoestring because for a long time, they felt as though they had lost us both.

He was my rock, one of my oldest and dearest friends, my confidant, one of the first people I called when something great happened and one of the first people I called when something bad happened. I would never be able to call him again. My fiance' struggled daily to try and help put the pieces of my life back together, but there were too many pieces missing and back then I was seriously lacking the inner strength to keep functioning on a normal level.  Time wounds, all heals.

I took my beautiful children to the cemetery with flowers and cards an pictures and we sat around his grave site and talked to him about how much we all loved and missed him and how strong we were trying to be. I shared stories of our courtship and what a silly cut up their daddy was. They smiled through the tears and then we all agreed that we never wanted to go back there again on his birthday.

I dropped the kids at home and went to a girlfriend's house. I had been as strong as I could muster that day and I needed to get back to the business of numbing my pain. It was there that I had a lovely glass of Pinot Noir and...The Big Idea. I was going to reach out to my nemesis, my future husband's ex-wife. I felt absolutely certain that when she looked into my eyes and saw my pain and listened to my plea, she would open her heart and work with me to help rebuild the relationship she had a hand in destroying between her children and their own father.

As I walked up to her front door,  I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. We had shared exchanges in the past but only through email or text messages. Although it had been her decision to end her 18 year marriage, she was hellbent on doing everything in her power to hurt my then fiance now husband once she found out he'd not only gotten on with his life and found someone to love, but that that someone was me and my kids, or Tijuana and my leftovers from south of the border, as she and her children liked to refer to us.

We had met for the first time at the end of 1995. We were in the sales office of a new home community, staking out our lots. They were moving from Philly and were expecting their 3rd child; we were expecting our 2nd due at the exact same time. We became fast friends...except for the part where she never really seemed to like me. She had put on nearly 70 lbs. during the pregnancy and I had gained a whopping 19. I was a work out fanatic, she was a former model...convention model. Most of our conversations were spent talking about her modeling days and her modeling body, her modeling face and her modeling hair. I probably didn't understand because it was so obvious to her that I had never modeled. She praised me...once...by telling me that the thing she liked the best about me was that unlike most women, I wasn't intimidated by her beauty. That was true. Of course, I have always believed that true beauty shines from the inside out, a beauty that she was sorely missing. But then again, what the F did I know? I wasn't a model.

I knocked on her door timidly and waited. I secretly prayed she wouldn't be home, but once I committed to my mission, there was no turning back. I knocked again, louder this time. I could hear whispering and shuffling on the other side of the door. I saw little faces peeking through the shutters. After a while, I decided she knew it was me and was not interested in my big idea or any other thing I might have to say.

As I walked away from her house, the front door suddenly opened. "Can I help you?" A tall young man stood there, at first I thought it was her son but the deepness of his voice helped me realize it was the mobile car wash fella she'd left her husband for.

I tried to make my way back towards the door and he immediately walked towards me as though he were the security guard in charge of checking in all visitors.  I extended my hand and asked if the little lady of the house was available to chat. He said he'd check and asked me to wait, then he disappeared back inside. I waited for a few minutes then grew bored. I decided I wanted to go home and eat Doritos's and drink more wine, all this good intention crap had killed my buzz.

Then she appeared and I realized what had taken so long, she fixed her hair and applied some make up ~ I guess that's what models do. I heard her daughter say, "Don't go out there, mom! Please!" to which she responded, "It's okay, it must be an emergency or she wouldn't be here." Um, I can hear you, I thought.

"The children are afraid you have come to hurt me," she said condescendingly. So, you put on make-up and did your hair to collect an ass whoopin'? Nice.

"And what in the world would give them that idea?" I asked a tad too defensively. Knowing full well that she had filled their heads with lies about my ghetto fabulousness.  Don't get me wrong, I am from the ghetto and I am fabulous, but I am not some animal that shows up on your doorstep and starts beating the snot of you just because you so obviously have it coming. Gimme some credit here!

She felt my heat and did what cowards do, they attack. "You've been drinking, I can smell it! Go home and sober up!" She said it loudly so the children on the other side of the door could hear her. The door opened ~ Car Wash Boy to the rescue! "Is everything alright?" he inquired.

"It's okay, just stay close," she cautioned. Just incase I changed my mind, pulled out my handy switchblade, (which all Hispanics obviously carry) and demanded a rumble.  I was half tempted to toss him my car keys and ask him to give my new ride the once over but thought better of it and kept my big trap shut.

I wasn't going to give up or give in so easily, besides, I wasn't drunk....anymore. I backed down and calmly explained that I just wanted to talk to her, mother to mother, woman to woman. I admitted to the glass of wine I had enjoyed before coming to see her but that it was only to take the edge of the day off. I told her that it was my ex-husband's birthday and that my children and I spent it at a grave site. That my heart was broken because we bought a 5 bedroom house just a few blocks away from hers in the hopes that all of our children could have two happy homes close by. 

I told her how sad it made me when I realized that my kids would do anything for just one more day with their dad and yet her kids lived literally blocks away from a father who loved and adored them and yet none of them even called him on his birthday. I told her that if she wanted to make me the fall guy that was fine. That I was willing to eat her shit, anything, if only she would help me repair the damaged relationship her kids had with their dad.

She pondered my plea for a moment then a poop eating grin spread across her over injected lips, (sorry, but they truly are, ask anyone) and I silently prayed she wouldn't actually make me eat her shit. Instead, she grabbed my left hand and pulled me towards her front door. I was elated! She wanted to invite me in and discuss a plan to help make us a family! Oh Joy! Rapture! She stopped just shy of the door, under the light and pulled my engagement ring up to her face for closer inspection.

"Congratulations on this," she said snarkily still inspecting the ring as though it were for sale. "Just so you know, this is my ring. You might want to get that checked out." Her smile broadened now that she was sure I'd been given her albeit very similar, fake ass, costume jewelry hunk of crap and had it passed off as the real thing. I was speechless. Does this bitch have ice water running through her veins? Had she not heard one word that I'd said??? Her only concern was that I might be wearing her fake ring? Did she not notice that I had pulled up to her house in a brand spankin' new, fully loaded 6 Series BMW Convertible and was wearing $700 Christian Louboutin shoes on my monster truck feet? Did she really believe for one cotton pickin' second that I didn't pick out my own damn engagement ring????

But that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was that I needed her help. I loved my future husband with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns and he was devastated that she had alienated the children against us. I was there to eat shit, not sling it.

"Will you help me, please? I will do anything you ask. Just tell me what to do and I will do it. Your children deserve to have a healthy relationship with their dad and he deserves that too. He misses them everyday and it kills me to see him so broken and helpless." my chin quivered as I asked. I was begging someone who I would so much rather have just throat socked and it was the harder than I ever imagined it would be.

She smiled her Cheshire cat grin and gave me her list of demands: She would help if I could get my future husband to shake hands with Car Wash Boy in front of their children. "If he accepts my new man and my new life, it would go a long way with the children. You see, they love my new man so very much and he has been a real father to them. They run into his arms every time they see him, something neither of you have ever gotten from them."

Why I aughtta....I bit down on my lip and nodded my head.

"We want that very badly," I said honestly.

"Well, then we have a deal. You get your "fiance" to swallow his pride and shake hands with my man and I will help get the children back on track with their dad."

I took it all in and just to make sure we were on the same page said, "So, if I can arrange a family meeting where we can all sit down and they shake hands and accept one another, I have your word that you will work with us to rebuilding the damaged relationship?"

"Yes." she said simply. I was again elated. "Of course," she paused for effect and I was certain I'd celebrated too soon, "That will never happen. I was married to him for 18 years, I know him better than you ever will. He will NEVER be man enough to shake hands with my lover. So, I know I won't have to hold up my end of the deal."

What the...???

"You are right, you were married for a very long time and you knew him very well. But I know the man I am about to marry and he is hurting, I know he will do anything he has to do to get his kids back in his life."

"We'll see," she said dismissing me and turning towards the house. Call me when you've set up the 'family meeting'," her laughter trailed after her even from behind the closed door. "And get that ring checked out..."

Long story longer, my fiance cried when I told him what I'd done. He openly balled his eyes out. He started off just as she'd said, angry and defiant absolutely refusing to ever shake "that prick's hand", but then he softened. It hit him with full force the magnitude of the love I must feel for him to offer to eat her shit to get his kids back. He held me tightly and thanked me over and over again. He said if I could do that for him, he could shake hands with Car Wash Boy to mend his relationship with his children.

I called her immediately. It went to voicemail. I excitedly explained that we were all on board and was anxious to set up a time and place that worked for everyone. I thanked her repeatedly for her efforts and told her that her kids would benefit greatly from having her support and their dad back in their lives.

She sent a text back, "Before we can bring outsider's in, your fiance and I need to work on OUR relationship. There won't be a meeting. Thanks anyway."

The knot in my stomach rose to my throat and I had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up. I had actually eaten her shit, all of her bullshit. I believed her and she reneged.

"What did you expect baby?" asked my beautiful future husband, the man of my dreams, love of my life. "It was a power play for her. She made you beg and then she changed the game. She has no integrity, you had to know that."

I cried. Hard.  

I lost a little more faith in the human condition that day. I tried to do the right thing, I begged, I pleaded, I was sincere and I wanted it so badly, not just for my husband's sake, but for all of us, his kids especially. They deserve to know that their dad loves them unconditionally, that he would give them the world if they would give him the time of day. But that's not my battle to fight anymore. I can only control my actions and my reactions. I was the bigger person, my side of the street was clean.