Last
week in Italy, “Antonio C” discovered, while cleaning out the dresser drawers,
letters between his wife and her lover. He confronted his beloved over
the alleged indiscretions, and she tearfully admitted to the affair but
promised the affair was a thing of the past and begged his forgiveness.
Antonio, a man who is apparently not to be reckoned with, would hear
nothing of the sort and filed for divorce, giving up on their 77-year marriage.
No,
that's not a typo. Antonio is 99 years old; his blushing bride is 97
years old; the affair happened 60 years ago, and their 77-year marriage will be
dissolved within the month, according to Italian court records. I wonder who gets custody of their denture
cleaner?
I
don’t know about you, but if Antonio has been this hard-headed throughout their
entire marriage, how it lasted 77 years is a head scratcher to me!
I
can completely understand the hurt that Antonio must be feeling, but I also can
feel the regret his wife must also be feeling.
If she wanted out of their blissful union, she’d have done it long ago
when she still had the same opportunities that divorce can afford someone who
is unhappy in a marriage. What exactly
is the point now? After 99 years of
living, if Antonio hasn’t learned the fine art of forgiveness, there’s very
little hope he’ll be able to find happiness in any other venue his life should
take him at this point.
I
suspect there’s more to this story than we’re hearing. Antonio and his unnamed bride were first
married when they were 20 and 22 in 1931.
This means that they endured their first few years as newlyweds in their
war-torn Italian home. They also gave
birth to and raised five children – and anyone who’s raised one child knows
that having a child in your home is often equated to living in a war-torn
nation. What’s it like with five
children? And now in their twilight
years, they enjoy 12 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild.
Is
Antonio really going to allow these letters to be the catalyst to give all of
that up? Is it really his intent to
throw their marriage and the years of memories and the extension of family away
based on an affair that ended 60 years ago?
More and more, I’m convinced there’s more to this story.
Why
was Antonio even cleaning out the drawers in the first place? I know for a fact that if The Dad were
cleaning out my drawers and found love letters between me and another man, I’d
be dead. Not because I had an affair,
but because he’s not going to clean out those drawers on his own, that’s for
certain! And, if I know The Dad – and I
think I do – he’s not going to actually read anything he finds in the
drawers. When he does clean, he’s on a tear-and-toss
mission. Those letters would be
curb-side without a second glass as fast as his little walker would scoot him.
Good
luck, Antonio – I hope you find the happiness that you couldn’t find in the bottom
of your dresser drawers!
