“I’ve lost more money at this beach than anywhere else,” I say sullenly. My wife doesn’t know the story. I’ll tell you now, too.
I was a young man in the sunset of high school. I had my first girlfriend, and I loved her fiercely. I loved knowing her and being known by her. We would be together forever. During summer break, we would often visit Refugio (Reh-foo-ghee-oh, if you want to say it right) with our youth group. I remember her, crisp, clear, in high resolution. I was infatuated.
On one particular trip to Refugio beach, we took a walk. Anyone who’s been in high school knows what that means (or will mean), even if intentions begin pure (they didn’t). We wandered around the corner of the cove away from where everyone was sunning themselves, finding a private part of the beach. I kissed her, kissed her as I’d never kissed her before, and in that waning August sun, I knew I was with the person I would be with forever.
On our last (as in final) date, we saw a movie. I wish I could remember what it was. We had taken separate cars, and as she walked to hers, I asked her to hold up. I had a ring, not like that, I told her. It’s got your name in it, the name I always call you. She looks, and I’ve given her a silver ring with my nickname for her engraved in it. I had a ring made for myself, too, and I showed her that I’d had the nickname she’d given me engraved, like hers. It meant everything to me. To us, I thought.
I thought it was mutual even after she moved away. I thought it was mutual until she started ignoring me. I thought it was mutual until she cheated on me. I thought it was mutual until all of this came crashing down on me on my birthday. I forget if I was turning 19 or 20, but I still don’t much care for my birthday. Even after all the heartbreak, I still wore the ring. I guess I liked it. I guess I hoped it would be mutual again.
I met my next girlfriend at a farewell party. She was dating the guy who was leaving. They were pretty casual, I guess. She and I hit it off pretty quickly after they parted, and we dated several years. I asked her to marry me since that’s what you do after you date for a while, I guess. I proposed to her on a beach (not Refugio), the same beach we’d shared our first kiss. We loved spending time together. Our love was steady, simple, and clear. There was no fire, no drama, and no suffering. She was good to me, and I was good to her. But I think she knew that part of me had not let go of the past. It would take me many years to realize it was the past that had not let go of me.
We went on dates nearly every day of the week. One particular date brought us to Refugio. We weren’t a beach couple, and I’d been avoiding this beach altogether. However, I had a thing in mind, so I chose Refugio. We found a spot in the cove, watching the surfers and enjoying our sandwiches. After our picnic, I suggested we take a walk. Having been through high school, I think she knew what I meant. It had been years since I’d been around that corner into the privacy beyond the cove, but I think I found the spot where I’d been before. I grabbed her hands, told her I loved her and only her. I took my ring off, turned, and threw it into the waves. We both cried, I think for different reasons.
I broke off our engagement and took back the ring I’d given her. I broke up with her for the same reasons I was with her: Our love was steady, simple, and clear. There was no fire, no drama, and no suffering. She was good to me, and I was good to her. There would never be more than that. There would probably never have been less than that. I know there are many of you reading this wondering why I would ever give up something like that. As I said, the past had not let me go.
For 15 years, I never went back to that beach. I couldn’t. It was too painful. That is, until this summer.
I’m married now, and we have three kids. Though our love is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced, it is far from simple, steady, or clear. It is fire, drama, and suffering, and it’s entirely because of me. These years have been the hardest we’ve endured, full of pain and tears.
Even so, our love is one thing, if nothing else: unconditional.
If not for the faithfulness of truly unconditional love, I would not have found myself on that beach, watching as all the ghosts simply fade away.
I hate the ocean. I can’t stand how cold the water is, and I tend to think at least one shark is looking for me and probably more than a few jellyfish. Though this year has been harrowing, there have been breakthroughs, like the rays of sun that melted away the fog above us, bringing us a soft, warm day full of light and love and laughter. Because of all this, we could come to this beach, and I felt mostly ok. Because of all this, I was feeling pretty good, so I decided to take a swim with my family. As I waded into the water, the larger wave of the set was taller than me. I dove in, like you’re supposed to do, but I forgot something important: I hadn’t taken my sunglasses off. The wave took care of that for me, though. We swam around for a while, looking for them, but it was too late. The sea had claimed something else of mine, a gift from my wife and one that I loved very much. I sulked back to my towel, trying to keep my composure but silently hating this beach even more.
We decided to talk a walk. Not like that. I figured it would be nice to clear my head, even though the sun was killing my eyes. We followed our kids, who had, out of curiosity, decided to venture out to the point and past it to see what other beaches were hidden beyond the cove. Of course, they had no idea what that beach meant to me, so I stayed put, waiting in the cove and watching the surfers, figuring they would return quickly. I should have known; they are never quick when there is exploring to be done! Begrudgingly, I got up and followed after them.
I found my wife and three kids by following their footprints. I knew by the size of each one who had scattered off and to where. The littlest, our daughter, were so precious and smaller than I thought they should be. The tide was lapping at her tiny prints, around the place I had thrown my silver into the sea. Or was it over there? I kept following the tracks and soon was able to follow the laughter, and then I saw another spot that looked familiar. I looked away and saw my bright beaming daughter, running to me to show me a shell. I saw my boys playing and climbing rocks, my middle son holding a crab, firmly and fearlessly. Such a marvel how much life has changed in just 15 years or so. I saw my beautiful, faithful wife, her smile radiant in the waning August sun, the person I am so glad to be spending my life with, building a life with. All I see is love, unconditional, unbridled love. Yes, I’ve lost a lot to this sea and to life. These things that remain are more meaningful than silver or sunglasses. More meaningful than memory or ghost stories. More meaningful than anything else in my entire life.
I will throw everything else I have into the sea, just to have these precious ones.
The past can be like a ghost story, always haunting you with painful memories and locales. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Nothing is scary when you visit it with people you love and who love you back unconditionally. When you are loved unconditionally, you feel as though you can do anything. I’m never afraid anymore. I’m never scared of what I can’t do, what might happen, and certainly not afraid of what has already happened. I’m not bulletproof, but I feel like I am. I have a secret, one that has been lost at sea for a while now: the nickname name my first girlfriend gave me, that name I had engraved on the ring I threw into the sea was “Superman.” I’ve never, ever felt like him, though.
That is, until now.
Coda
We drove to the sea
Where the water is green
And the clouds and the blue
Through the shadows of me and you
The shells that we found in the sand
The moment we held in our hands
You were making me smile, it was easier then, when
But then again
-Ray LaMontagne / To the Sea
Great insight into your life Joel. Today you have a great wife and family! God has been good to you!