I was married to my husband for 33 years; best friends with him for 41. Oftentimes we knew what the other was thinking - or going to say - before they said it. We experienced deja vu together quite often.
He knew I could get lost inside a box. I knew that if I asked him what he wanted for dinner he’d invariably (as in 100 percent) reply, “Spaghetti,” and then he’d add, “With meat sauce,” because he thought meatballs were too labor-intensive and too much to ask for.
He had a habit of holding onto the toothpaste while he brushed his teeth. He didn’t dry his back after showering. He just let the air evaporate the moisture. I think he just didn’t realize his back was wet, probably because he couldn’t see it in the mirror, but that’s just speculation based on 33 years of living with the guy.
He used to cross his legs and intertwine his toes while watching TV. He didn’t trust Siri or any navigational system other than Rand McNally. He let the cat sleep on his chest. I never could get comfortable with that.
He knew similar details about me, although I’m not sure what they were. I just know he knew. I know he knows.
Still, in so many ways, he was a mystery. I knew so much about him, but not even half of what really went on inside his head. How he perceived the world.
Now, thinking back, I wonder how he felt, what he thought when he got sick. When it got pretty serious and we outwardly hoped and talked about the best outcomes, but never the bad ones.
When he was alone with his thoughts, in the deep of night when he couldn’t sleep - what did he think about then?
He didn’t try to keep secrets from me, nor I from him, but there was so much I didn’t know. Likewise from his perspective. We didn’t mean to keep secrets, but you can’t really ever tell anyone everything. That would be impossible.
He and I were married, and best friends. But what about other people I think I knew well? How much do I really know about them?
Do we ever really know anyone? Can we ever really know anyone?
Or do we just know the pieces - the slivers - they allow us to see? (That we allow others to see.)
I think we all harbor personal thoughts, insights and beliefs (secrets, if you will) from the world. Even from those closest to us. Maybe even from ourselves.
Oftentimes I don’t think we even realize this. We are just living life. Doing what we do. Thinking what we think and we aren’t always cognizant of the process of concealment. Sometimes it seems like my mind has a mind of its own. I try to concentrate on one thing and my thoughts keep drifting back to topic number two which isn’t even always relevant.
Maddening. This brings me back to my premise. Maybe we don’t really know anyone - not even ourselves. How’s that for a mind blow?
We make interpretations and analyze based on our own perspectives, which often have little to do with anything in reality. People’s actions and behaviors are based on their circumstances, not ours. But we base our interpretations on the one thing we think we know - ourselves. And that often leads to inaccuracies.
I knew my husband well - better than anyone in the world. But I couldn’t know everything, because I wasn’t living in his skin.
Interestingly enough, now that he is no longer walking with me on this earth, I think I can put myself in his shoes better than ever before. As silly as it sounds, I talk to him and know (or believe I know) how he’d answer.
Because I knew him that well. But in other regards I didn’t know him completely, because none of us ever can. This whole concept contributes to the great mysteries of life.
And mystery isn’t always a bad thing.
Jill Pertler is an award-winning syndicated columnist, published playwright and author. Don’t miss a slice; follow the Slices of Life page on Facebook.
