Hello everyone and thankyou so much for dropping by …
Remember those regrets I was talking about yesterday? Well, this is one of them …
It’s very personal, and I may be over sharing here, but I am increasingly discovering that this blog writing process, which I am new to, is indeed extremely cathartic. Highly recommended!
When I was married my husband and I were fortunate enough to have our own plane, a Piper PA-32 Cherokee Six, and we each held a Private Pilots’ License.
This particular light aircraft was considered a bit of a beast back in the day and still enjoys an excellent reputation today. It can carry 5-6 passengers with just one pilot. It’s nearly 28 feet long and has a wingspan of almost 33 feet and has a cruise speed of 168mph and a maximum speed of 174mph. It also has a range of 840 miles and I once flew ours from the UK to Sardinia with no problems at all.
I can honestly say that at the beginning of our marriage I was deliriously happy and (extra cheese anyone?) living on cloud nine.
During the first two years of that marriage however, we only spent two weekends at home, even though we both worked full time, and any free time at all was spent flying.
I am aware, as I write, how ungrateful I sound but I longed for a home life. Living on a farm I wanted to spend time with my dogs and horses, cook a traditional Sunday roast sometimes, socialise with friends and family and to simply enjoy my home.
Little did I know that storm clouds were gathering …
And so it came to pass. My husband suffered a heart attack at the age of 39 and obviously was no longer allowed to fly solo. He owned and ran a large international business, smoked sixty cigarettes a day and was having an affair with his much younger secretary (rather predictably given how little free time he had with his feet actually on terra firma) and the ambitious little madam (subsequently his words, not mine) was making sure that this affair was becoming common knowledge – the perfect ingredients for a heart attack I would say.
Hence, at first a passion of mine, aviation gradually became a chore as from then onward I always had to go too – I had no choice because if I didn’t go then he couldn’t fly.
My husband had literally keeled over right in front of me and I did all that I could to save him – now I’m not a doctor but I do think his chances of survival could have been dramatically reduced had I known about his extra-marital affair at that point but, luckily for him, I didn’t.
Shortly after that, with her meal ticket nestling safely in her belly, his secretary announced to the world that she was pregnant with his child and so the whole sordid truth could no longer be kept from me, despite the best efforts of my husband who amazingly had already purchased a house and car for her in an attempt to placate her and buy her silence.
I can still remember, oh so clearly as if it were yesterday, the day I arrived home from work and my husband was waiting for me, shuffling nervously and looking terribly pale. I remember it so vividly because it was the day my world fell apart.
He began with the words “I’m so sorry but I have something to tell you, before you hear it from someone else, and you’re not going to be very happy” – an understatement if ever there was one.
It was all so difficult to absorb. I was in complete shock at first as, although selfish at times, he was a loving and quite romantic husband. He often surprised me with extravagant gifts and flowers and was always affectionate towards me. I honestly thought we were still in love and I was left feeling as though I had never really known him. He was a fake, and that in turn meant that all my happy memories of our time together were fake too.
The irony was that I had once prayed so desperately for his heart to keep beating and now I just wanted it to stop.
In my mind I questioned everything. Was everything an act on his part? To stop me suspecting anything? Was this …? Was that …? Should I …? Could I …?
In the end, I felt so betrayed and broken that I just didn’t care enough any more to even try to look for answers. I just didn’t want to know. With his words still ringing in my ears as I left, still pleading “We can get through this together”, I was off. Because clearly that’s all they were, just words.
Another lesson learned, it was time to start a new chapter and I was determined to get off to a flying start …
There, see, I do feel better! I managed to recall and relay all of that without even the smallest tingle of pain. Partly, I suspect, because his life eventually turned to crap with a further unwanted pregnancy with a different little madam, bankruptcy and a stroke.
My mother once told me that success is the best revenge and that you should never take revenge yourself as it will only be a fraction of what Karma will serve up to your wrongdoer. Ain’t that the truth!