Mr. Perfect

Let me start by saying this is a good post – I am in a grateful and appreciative mode, at least for the moment, so hopefully you won’t go away depressed.

I have been thinking a lot about who I remember him to be. I am trying not to make a saint out of him. All the books say that it helps to remember that he wasn’t perfect, and I know he wouldn’t want to be thought of as perfect. So I have been trying to remember his flaws, to remember him as human.

Here is what I have so far:

· He had a lot of gas, and considered it a source of both pride and amusement (I guess that just proves he was a guy)
· He chewed too loud
· He couldn’t throw away ANYTHING
· His butt crack showed when he bent over, and he didn’t care
· He procrastinated about chores
· He could be very impatient, and sometimes was short or abrupt
· He smelled pretty bad by the end of hunting season

That’s it – that’s all I’ve got. Pretty perfect, huh? Especially since none of that matters in the least (except maybe the gas…!).

What bugs me about the idea that remembering his flaws will help me deal with his loss is that it implies that because he wasn’t perfect, the marriage wasn’t perfect. And I guess it wasn’t “perfect” in the literal sense. To me, though, it was perfect. Not because we never disagreed, because we did. Not because we never noticed anyone of the opposite sex, because we did (as a matter of fact, I excelled at pointing out to him the pretty women in the freezer section of the grocery store – tee hee). Not because every minute was exciting, because it wasn’t.

So why do I feel like it was “perfect?” After some reflection, I think the answer lies in something our son Matt told me shortly after Kirk died. It was late at night and we were talking on the phone. I told Matt how proud Kirk was of him, and that I hoped he knew that his dad loved him so much, even if we were not always the best parents. He replied that we were the best parents. I said that I knew we really weren’t – we made some bad decisions at times, and there were definitely “do-overs” we would have taken if we could have. I will never forget his answer to me – it was probably the most perceptive thing anyone has ever said to me. He said that that being a great parent doesn’t come from getting it right every time – it comes from always trying to get it right. The actual things we did didn’t determine the quality of our parenting – the constant commitment and genuine attempts did. (All you parents out there are looking at parenting totally differently right now, aren’t you? Such wisdom from someone who is not yet a parent).

I have realized that Matt is right, and that this same thinking works for marriage. It’s not the end result that makes a perfect marriage – it’s the work, the attempts, the commitment, the perseverance (not to mention the laughter, the attraction, the friendship, and all the other easy, fun stuff). And the truth is that Kirk worked harder at it than I did. Not that I didn’t work hard – I did. But in the end, I bet that almost every one of you who is or has been married would agree that there is one person who works harder at the commitment and the appreciation than does the other. For us, that was him. He was the perfect husband – gas or no gas. I like to think that if he knows, wherever he is, that I’m saying this, he is puffing his chest up, sticking his elbows out, and walking around with that Kirk strut (you can see it in your mind can’t you?) and telling everyone he sees, “I’m the perfect husband!”

As inconceivable as it is now, I know myself well enough to know that someday I will probably want another partner. To quote Mr. T, “I pity the fool!” – the fool who has to follow Mr. Perfect.