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For the past 42 years, I’ve been married to a travelin’ man. Some years, my attorney husband Neil was away from home one week per quarter; others he’d be gone months at a time, but return home weekends. Even though the schedule was ever-changing, one constant remained — Neil was always leaving me.
He once flew 11 hours to Alaska to argue before a judge for 15 minutes and then turned around and came home. Then, there was the endless summer when he went across the country taking depositions.
Neil’s travels have also taken him overseas. One particular trip came when I was stretched thin with attending events at the grammar schools of my now-adult son Luke and daughter Meg. Neil came to me on a Saturday morning with both kids waiting for him by our Manhattan apartment’s front door to tell me he was taking them to the park. Just when I was thinking what a kind man I’d married, one who wanted to give me alone time to recharge my batteries, he added, “I have to leave for London on Tuesday. See ya later.”
Using our children as human shields he ran out the door before I could verbally assault him. He kept Luke and Meg out for most of the day, believing that would give me enough hours to collect myself. (It was not.)
Over the years, I’ve been asked often how I “put up with” Neil being gone so much. First off, I’m an only child and I learned early on how to entertain myself. Second, when I was in elementary school, my parents separated and my father lived outside of our home in New York City. I know how to love a man who’s not around.
I’ve also been asked why I didn’t turn Neil’s work-related journeys into vacations, especially when cases took him to places like Hawaii and Puerto Rico. Well, I’ve always had my own career to cultivate, before and after there were children to care for.
Since we got together in 1981, I’ve only tagged along with Neil on three occasions. In 1989 B.C. (Before Children) I went with him to Southern California to shop on Melrose Avenue, and to drive up and down Sunset Boulevard hoping to spot the members of Guns N’ Roses. (I never found them.) A few years later, still B.C., I joined him in Washington D.C. so we could be together for our wedding anniversary. The last time was eight years ago when Meg suggested we drain Neil’s frequent flyer miles to meet him in San Diego because his business there coincided with her high school’s spring break.
Every other time he was gone, I was home, waiting for his return.
The word “waiting” often conjures up a rom-com image of a woman looking wistfully out the window wondering if her far-away lover is also staring at the moon. Here’s what it looked like for me.
Before and after we were married, but without children, I fought off the loneliness and envy that his career was bigger than my ad agency copywriter job, by going out with friends after work.
When Luke was born, I left the full-time job to be a stay-at-home mother and did off-site contract writing assignments. I actually embraced the time alone to bond with my new son. Three years later, Meg came along. Immersed in motherhood, there was little time to wallow if Neil was working in another city. Because I don’t drink alcohol, it was not wine but my anxieties that were the fuel that drove me.
Neil returned from a trip very late one night and didn’t turn on the lights to keep from waking the rest of us. He went to place his bag where there was usually a table, only to have it fall to the ground. While he was gone, I’d rearranged the furniture and painted the foyer a lovely shade of mauve.
Often in a home where one spouse travels, those left behind adjust to the absences by finding a new normal. Besides redecorations, Neil has come home to me having new hobbies, new hairstyles and new hair colors, and more than once he’s been treated to the phrase, “We don’t do it that way anymore.”
Even though he has never missed a milestone event (graduations, communions, weddings), there were day-to-day things he’d have to hear about over the phone or after the fact. And if he didn’t like how I had handled a particular issue, well, too bad. I made the best decision I could at the moment.
No one enters into a marriage hoping to operate as they did when they were flying solo or as a single parent, though, at least in my case, that happens. I saw from the beginning of our relationship how easy it would be to fall into the trap of resentment, jealousy and anger over his peripatetic job. Instead, I chose to be proud of his work ethic and supportive of his often challenging assignments.
Clearly, I found a way to cope — sometimes better than others depending on what was going on in our lives at the time. Goodbyes at the door have run the gamut from a cheery, “Safe trip, see you in a few days,” to a teary and lip-quivering, wordless wave.
Even during my most stressed-out times, I asked myself who would be served by frosty, passive-aggressive phone conversations to let him know his travel came at an inconvenient juncture, which would make him wish he didn’t have to come home at all. I also was very aware that my struggle wasn’t nearly as real as those, like my late mother, who were 24/7 single parents indefinitely.
These days, although Neil’s work trips are more sporadic than standard, I often find myself handling family business on my own without much consultation. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’ve learned to live without him, as much as that I’ve realized how much I can accomplish independently.
After decades of rising through the ranks at his firm and landing at the top of his profession, Neil talks about when he’s going to retire, which leads us into conversations about what’s next.
His response: “We should travel.”
Are you married to someone who travels a lot? How do you handle it? Let us know in the comments below.
Ruby Ash
Follow Article Topics: Relationships
