A few months ago, I got a message from my husband’s dad, a retired police officer and former NFL linebacker.
It was a request to buy him a few bottles of a certain type of beverage.
“I don’t want to drink it yet,” my husband replied.
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that, but that is exactly the kind of response I got when I was asked to buy a bottle of wine at a restaurant.
My father, a veteran of the Korean War, was in the military for 17 years and served in the South Korean army from 1970 to 1979.
He went to Vietnam in 1968 and Korea in 1972.
He never went to the U.S. He was a staunch anti-war, anti-communist American.
When I started dating my husband in 2007, I assumed we would be friends for life.
But I never expected our relationship to turn into something I’d be ashamed of.
The day we started dating, I had a rough week.
We’d had a baby, but when the baby’s first birthday rolled around, I realized I was pregnant again.
After we were engaged, I spent the next few weeks crying myself to sleep, and it was only when I saw my daughter that I felt more comfortable.
I felt relieved.
But then things started to unravel.
I couldn’t get him to stop texting me and then I couldn