For a little while after I put my grief in a box there was a period of magic. A time when we just lived and breathed each other. Because what helps a marriage of 18 years like something new? And this was new. My questioning didn’t stop. But we also had a lot of sex. Which might sound odd. Considering my husband just told me he wants to become a woman and I’m a confirmed heterosexual. Be that as it may, I can only retell the story, I can’t always explain it. Perhaps it was that this revelation made us feel closer. Perhaps it was that my accepting my husband exacting as he is and as he might become was a relief to him. I won’t tell you the gory details but it was like a honeymoon.
And I felt magical. This grand gesture of acceptance was so life changing for our marriage. It was like it wiped away all the past grievances and petty fights. If you could do something and it would prove to the person you love that you loved them more than you cared about your own happiness, would you do it? I was convinced this would make our marriage better and therefore be good for me in the long run, even if it hurt for now.
I also had to reassure him a lot that I wasn’t leaving. That the magic wouldn’t go away. That I wouldn’t change my mind. But that’s not me. I’m not going anywhere. Especially not just when my love was finally finding happiness. How could I not stick around for that?