We had just recently gotten married, were in the honeymoon stage, and were enjoying a romantic getaway jet skiing on a crystal-clear blue lake. I believe that after my first encounter, I had fallen in love with her. The best time of our life was right now. I was moving quickly on a jet ski. My wife abruptly lost her footing and fell into the water.
I had no swimming skills at all. Although she wasn’t a fantastic swimmer, my wife was a little bit better. I briefly became frozen. It seemed as though she might perish. A part of me wanted to dive into the sea and save her, but I refrained.
As soon as I seen her desperately swimming toward me, I turned the jet ski around and began to travel in her direction. She succeeded. She chuckles at it because she thinks of it as a bizarre memory. She compliments me on using my calmness and presence of mind to approach her with the jet ski rather than attempting some other valiant feat.
However, the fact that I didn’t jump to save the person I believed to be my love, that I gave up on her and allowed her to briefly perish, haunts me every day of my life. Every day, I wonder if I love her enough to keep her from passing away. to prefer her to myself.
I believe I do, but I will never be certain. Seven years into our marriage, we now have a lovely daughter. I’ve never been able to discuss this with my wife or anyone else. I don’t want her to learn that I wasn’t a good enough man or, worse, that I didn’t love her deeply enough (or maybe I still don’t). Which of the two is accurate is unknown to me.
