I stood up, grabbed his hand and led him to my tent. "I just said I wouldn't sleep with you, not fool around a little, so don't you dare doze off." After all, I thought, why should I have to do penance! "Pretend we're in high school and don't get pissed off if I don't let you go all the way." We fumbled and rolled until I didn't think I could stop, but it was Paul who left the tent first, with us both unsatisfied.
We withdrew to the picnic table lest the kids catch us in an unexplainable situation. I continued to hold my husband's hand.
"I have an apology to make, Paul. I'm such a control freak. I don't want to drag your children, away from you. I don't mean to do it. It just seems to be happening, especially with Karen but it's not right. They love you as they should. I don't want to do anything to lessen that love. I'm too bull headed and always take charge."
He pondered what I'd said. "If that bothered me for a minute, I'd say something but you're doing a far better job at this than anyone. Please keep it up. All I want is the best for my children, whatever it takes."
I was kissing him as we spotted the children coming down the lake. We smiled and broke away.
"I do have one favor to ask," he said. "When you call the doctor on Monday, make two appointments, one for Karen and one for yourself."
I couldn't hide my surprise. "I don't think that's necessary," I began, but he held up his hand.
"Humor me. Think about it. I love you but it kills me to see you not yourself. You stayed away from your mother and sister, both of whom you loved dearly; for twenty years. Don't tell me that doesn't demonstrate you have unresolved issues. Visiting a shrink doesn't mean you're a nut case but it means you love me enough to humor me. Okay? Besides, think how much this will prompt Karen to agree if she sees you're visiting the same doctor."
"No wonder you're a salesman," I answered with a smile as I kissed him.
If you stop and think about it, guilt is a strange emotion. It's self-imposed; no one forces us to suffer it. Yet here I was, sharing this emotion with a twelve year old child, albeit for far different reasons. What causes this self-chastisement, this hair shirt we force ourselves to wear while we wallow in self-pity and look for redemption?
We harbor and feed this guilt, watching it grow until it rules our lives and consumes our well-being. Both Karen's mother and my mother are dead, turning to dust in separate graves, yet we're allowing them to continue to haunt us. We allow them to rule our lives as we seek punishment for our supposed crimes against them, seeking forgiveness from the grave.