Since my husband died, I’ve reflected on his addiction; his relapse right after we started dating, our subsequent years of arguing about him quitting again (sometimes he pushed himself and other times, I pushed him), his declining mental health, the physical health conditions that arose, and finally, his suicide.
When we met, there was an INSTANT connection, deep and strong, and it never waned throughout our time together. As my mother-in-law put it, “when it was good, it was really good, but when it was bad….”.
I recoiled at that statement when she first said it. Refusing to accept that David and I were nothing but perfect for one another. Honestly, if you take the mental health issues out of our relationship (both his and mine) we WERE perfect for one another. We were best friends, two peas in a pod, we went together like “butter and broccoli”.
Side note-David was a picky eater until we met. After I started cooking for him, he began eating all kinds of foods he would never touch before. Vegetables, tuna, cream cheese, mayonnaise, you name it. He always said, “If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be requesting to eat a bowl of steamed broccoli by itself, I would have said you were crazy, but there’s just something about the way you make it. Mmm!!” Hence, the reference to ourselves going together like “butter and…
