PART 1 ARTICLE 3 AUDIO FILE IN FOOTER ♫
Who could have predicted that a teenage marriage, lasting only four years, would become one of the most transformative gifts of my life? Al, my first husband, left a legacy of wisdom that changed me forever, and for that, I am deeply grateful.
Just yesterday, while driving, the Allman Brothers’ album Eat a Peach started playing on Amazon Music. Strangely enough, these Allman Brothers records were among the few things Al took with him when he decided that our teenage marriage wasn’t meant to last. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Al, my first husband, recently passed. He was the surly, intimidating appearing teenager who transferred to my high school during our senior year, projecting a persona of “No Trespassing, Danger Ahead.” In contrast, I was the friendly, goofy puppy, eager to be everyone’s friend. What brought us together wasn’t obvious to anyone, but our unconventional relationship grew out of a mutual understanding rooted in similar dysfunctional family backgrounds. Growing up in alcoholic homes forged a connection that few others could understand.
Though Al seemed intimidating, he was brilliant, intuitive, and loving, albeit in a distant way. He shared his true self sparingly, possessing a “bullshit monitor” that was unsurpassed while I naively sought love and validation in all the wrong places. On some subconscious level, we recognized that our relationship held lessons that would shape our lives. Whether our teenage marriage would lead to “happily ever after” was less certain. In the 1970s, marriage often seemed like an escape, yet for us, it became an unexpected journey of solitude, self-discovery, and personal growth.
Our marriage provided a safe space from which we could step into adulthood. We shared adventures and built a life together, despite the dysfunction we’d each known.
But I clung to traditional beliefs of “’til death do us part” and feared that failure to keep our marriage together would define me as a failure. So, I was blindsided when, after four years, Al decided he didn’t want to be married anymore. My denial had been bulletproof.
At the time, Al was far from finding his true purpose but felt that I had a bright, promising future. He feared his lethargy might keep me from realizing my potential. In the 1970s, women weren’t encouraged to outshine men, especially those in relationships. But Al’s keen intuition and no-nonsense perspective wouldn’t let him hold me back. So, with the Allman Brothers and a tennis racket in hand, he left, leaving me to confront solitude as my new teacher.
Everyone — his family, my family, our friends, and of course, I — was so angry at him! Everyone saw me as the perfect, conventional little wife who would give him direction in his life. He always had a deep loathing of convention. In retrospect, it was me, not him, who needed direction. His insight into life’s big picture, a wisdom not easily understood, defied the conventional ideas surrounding marriage and divorce.
The emotional devastation was beyond words. Convinced at 23 that I would never find love again, I threw myself into work, loaded up with college courses, trained in long-distance swimming, and tried to escape the sense of failure I carried. I worked tirelessly to prove myself, barely sleeping and determined to be worthy on my own.
I forced myself to go out, watch movies, and travel—alone. In the 1970s, a woman traveling alone raised eyebrows, but this solitude became the best gift Al could have given me. I discovered that my life could be full, with or without a partner—a lesson in self-worth I wish everyone could learn. Solitude allowed me to explore who I truly was, not the wife who changed herself to make the man she was with feel better about himself. A chance encounter with Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha and Buddhist philosophy helped me make sense of my existence, providing me with a guiding light through this transformative journey.
By leaving, Al forced me to confront my true self, proving that I could thrive on a high level independently. He saw potential in me, encouraging me to pursue what he admired, gifts I would have never acknowledged without his unselfish love. My path to peace and happiness was paved by the lessons learned by both this unexpected teenage marriage and its end.
Life’s best gifts come in the most unexpected and often unwanted packages. Finding our real selves would be impossible without the sucker punches delivered by a cosmic universe, whose wisdom of who we are and what we need is far better than our own. Teenage marriage, solitude, and Buddhist philosophy combined to help me evolve into a stronger, happier, more balanced, and self-assured woman.
Al eventually found his life’s purpose as a drug and alcohol counselor. Stories at his memorial service from people whose lives he had touched were rich with his compassion and love. These were things that would probably never have happened while standing in my shadow.
Everything needs to come in its own time and not be forced by anything or anyone. He had even found the real love of his life. Nothing could have made me happier.
Big Al will live on in my heart, where all my most precious memories and dearest loved ones will live forever. As the Allman Brothers continue to play in the background, I know he will always be with me.
