Decisions, decisions

So, I have now come to the place in the story where D and I have promised ourselves to one another.

We did not set a date, nor make any firm decisions, for quite some time after that.

We didn't even discuss, in serious terms, who was going to have to move, until after 2008 arrived.

In fact, we had a very long, somewhat difficult, phone discussion on New Year's Day of this year. It took place on that day, because we had promised one another last year that 2008 would be the year of decision making.

It was at my impetus that we begin the discussion on the first day of the year, rather than putting it off, and putting it off. If we don't do it now, we're not going to, was my reasoning.

We are, as we well know, not that young any more. Time is of the essence, in many ways.

So, on January 1, 2008, we talked on the phone for several hours. During that conversation, D finally admitted that he could not, and would not, consider moving to Chicago.

He had, at one point, discussed the possibility with great enthusiasm.

However, by Jan. 1, he had not mentioned it in any kind of serious way since he had gotten a promotion earlier in 2007.

In fact, he stopped talking about the possibility altogether.

This was not lost on me. My past experience with the cheater had trained me to notice when my partner stops saying or doing things that had once been a regular part of his behavior.

Anyway, D's been at his current place of employment for something like 27 years.

He has no degree, yet he has worked his way up, and now has a highly technical, advanced position with the company.

If he were to try to move jobs, he'd never find anything with the same benefits, pay, or seniority at this stage of his life.

His job is what limited the discussion to the fact that I will have to move, and I have no choice, if I want to live with him, and start our life together now, rather than after he retires.

Period.

My job and my business are movable. His job is not. His job, in a nut shell, is our security, and our future, and I would have to give up my entire life as I know it, in order for us to have a marriage.

That sounds dramatic and exaggerated, but it really isn't, if you think about it.

I have lived here, in this town, for 23 years.
I have lived in this area of the country, in the same county, for my entire life. My dad lived in the same town, in this county, for his entire life.

Members of my family still live in the house I grew up in.

All of my parents, grand parents, and great grand parents are buried in the same cemetery.

This has been the only home I have ever known, or understood. My roots run very deeply here.

I have struggled to build a life for myself, especially over the past 6 years of being on my own.

I have long-standing friendships, a secure job, a home of my own, a business, and a well established hobby/pass time that involves others.

Trying to accept the idea of having to move away from everyone, and everything, that I have ever known, and that I have worked and sweated and cried for, for the sake of love, has been a very difficult, and heart-wrenching proposition.

It took me many months to move through the process.

I also have a dear friend or two who just didn't seem to quite GET IT, and they were, at moments, less than kind to me in the evolution of this process.

While they may have been through similar circumstances, they were much younger (and less established) when they went through it, and they really do not have any idea of what this is like for me personally. I've never been away from home for more than a couple of weeks at a time!

I respected THEIR past experience, why could they not respect my present experience?

I had hoped for more compassion than "Oh, just put on your big girl pants and deal with it!!"

I eventually presented this idea to my family and friends a little at a time, and was met with, shall we say, some less than happy responses.

The look on my niece's face utterly broke my heart. I had massage clients collapse in tears!

The stress has been overwhelming, and has had an impact on my health.

I have gone years at work without taking a sick day, and this year, which is only 3/4 of the way over, has seen me take several sick days already.
Most recently, for a freak injury to my lower back.

Anyway, after a few months, D and I decided to go ahead and set a date, and get this ball rolling.

I talked to my family about this, and my sister suggested we get married on Grandma's birthday, July 12th.

She suggested this for a couple of reasons....for one thing, she and her husband got married on the 12th of December, and the number 12 had always seemed to be a good thing for them.

They've been married, happily and successfully, for 28 years, or something like that. So, surely, the "12 factor" couldn't hurt.

Also, it was the weekend AFTER a busy holiday, which would make it more convenient for most people.

There was never any question about WHERE D and I wanted to get married....we would do it in the spot where we shared our first kiss. Where he had proposed. Where I had experienced other significant moments in my life....The Spruce Plot in the Morton Arboretum.

(the parking lot closest to the Spuce Plot, incidentally, is Arboretum parking area #12)

This is an area of the preserve that was planted by Sterling Morton himself in the 1920's, as an experiment to see if the land around DuPage county was rich enough to grow good lumber for the booming housing industry in what was becoming Chicagoland.

Now, as part of the preserve, the Spruce Plot is a quiet, almost magical place where the pine scent wafts down from above, the trail is soft with needles, and the sounds of suburbia are muffled, and far away.

We set the date, I contacted a realtor and listed my property for sale, and we crossed our fingers.

The rest was entirely up to me.