What I Would Have Said

In the 25 years after my first husband Byron and I divorced, our relationship gradually grew from tense cordiality to a mutual commitment to co-parenting, and finally to a friendship rooted in decades of shared experiences. Nevertheless, I was still a little surprised at how frequently I found myself thinking fondly of Byron this past Christmas season. 

Starting a few days before Christmas, I kept hearing the song "Here Comes Santa Claus," and each time, I smiled as I recalled Byron walking through our house singing along with it at the top of his lungs. He always made me groan with his own silly lyrics in places, typically something involving farts. Recalling these happy moments from so long ago triggered other Christmas memories from our 11-year marriage, such as the way we liked to do all of our shopping in one marathon trip to Target.

Christmas Banquet, Circa 1993

All of this reminiscing brought me welcome joy in the midst of the last-minute frenzy that marks my shopping and preparations these days. Several times, I thought, "I should send Byron a text to let him know I'm thinking of him fondly," but each time, I simply made a mental note to text him later. There were stocking stuffers to buy, presents to wrap, food to cook, and stockings to stuff.

The last time I heard the song and thought of Byron was on Christmas morning, and I really wanted to send him a Merry Christmas message, but I didn't pause to do that during my hurried breakfast preparations, nor after Ethan, Sumer, Allyson and I had eaten and exchanged gifts. Instead, I raced to feed the cats and pack my car for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to my oldest sister's home in Nacogdoches.

I arrived late in the afternoon, just in time to open gifts with Melody's family, our mom, and our sister Amy. I thought of Byron again as we unwrapped gifts, remembering the way he'd give money to my little sister Emily and ask her to buy me a bunch of clothes. It was always so fun to see what she'd picked out; she had much better taste in clothes than I ever did.

Definitely, definitely I would send him a message on the 26th, after things had settled down, I thought.

On the morning of the 26th, however, I received a devastating phone call from my daughter-in-law. She and Ethan had just learned of Byron's death on the evening of Christmas day. After a tearful prayer with my mom and sisters, I hastily packed my bag and climbed back in the car.

During that interminable, solitary drive back home, I prayed, cried, and talked to my daughter and siblings. More than anything else, though, I thought. I thought back over our 13 years together, of happy times and hard times. I thought of all the ways we hurt each other so many years earlier, and how in recent years we had encouraged each other when either of us was feeling down. I wondered why this year, more than any other year, I'd been thinking so much about Byron, and I fervently wished that I had reached out to him when God brought him to mind. I thought about what I would have said to him, had I known that soon he would be gone from my life forever. 

If I'd had that opportunity, this is what I might have said...

Do You Remember?

Remember how you waggled your eyebrows when the pastor who married us said, "You may kiss the bride"?

January 7, 1989

Remember how we'd always hang out with Emily and Chris [my sister and her ex-husband] on Friday nights, and how sometimes we'd say something like, "Want to go to San Antonio tomorrow?... Sure, let's do it!"? And then we'd throw all our things in the car and take off first thing in the morning. 

Remember the prank you and Chris pulled on one of those road trips, this time to Indiana? You locked all the windows, and then both of you filled the car with noxious fart fumes, laughing maniacally while Emily and I pleaded with you to let us roll down the windows.

Remember what it felt like to walk through our very own home on the day we got our keys, how we turned in slow circles in every room of the empty house and felt like we were rich? And then we did it all again when we gave Emily and Chris a tour? 

Remember what it felt like to know you were going to be a father of a baby boy? Do you remember changing that first awful poopy diaper together at the hospital in the middle of the night, and how we thought we'd never get him completely clean? Do you remember how we couldn't believe they would let us go home with this helpless infant when we were so unqualified? 

Ethan's First Trip to Indiana, to Meet His Grandparents and Aunt Amy

Remember how proud we were of our son when he graduated? And how we were even prouder on the day of his wedding, when our families got together to celebrate the beginning of Ethan's new life with Sumer?

Byron Performing the Ceremony at Ethan and Sumer's Wedding

Thank You

Thank you for forgiving me. It wasn't until many years after I broke your heart that I offered a heartfelt apology, yet you responded without hesitation: "Sarah, I forgave you years ago." 

Thank you for comforting me when my own heart was broken during my second divorce. I will never forget your compassion when you assured me that I'd get through this, and that the pain wouldn't last forever. 

Thank you for commiserating with me when we both had chronic insomnia back in 2019. Exchanging texts with someone else who was awake in the middle of the night somehow made it easier. When I wished I could die, your encouraging phone call helped me trust that things could get better. 

You Made Me Proud 

I have been so proud of you over the years. It began when you started managing an Exxon convenience store at the age of 19. Your boss trusted you completely with overseeing the employees, placing orders, and preparing the bank deposits. You loved it so much that you dreamed of owning your own convenience store... and then that dream became a reality.

In the Office of the Exxon, 1989

Next, you overcame formidable obstacles to achieve your goal of becoming a police officer. You started as an officer at the university, then became a narcotics officer with the city, then inspired a lot of young people in your role as a school resource officer, and finally became a vital member of the human trafficking division. Not only did you do your job with excellence, but you also trained other officers to do the same. We will never know how many lives you impacted for good, but I do know one life that you saved: Allyson's dear friend Monica,* whom you helped recover when she was lured away from her family by a sex trafficker. We will forever be grateful for your assistance.

I was also proud of how you honed your writing skills through years of work as a detective and trainer. I had very few suggestions when you asked me to review some training materials on human trafficking, and trust me, I can be a tough critic when it comes to writing. I didn't know until after you passed away that your writings on policework had developed a considerable following.

Did You Know?

Did you know that ever since we sat together at Ethan and Sumer's wedding dinner, I'd been looking forward to being grandparents together? Did you know that I wanted to sit next to you one day and hold our grandchild between us? I wanted to see the tears in your eyes as we saw our son become a father. It grieves me so to know that now we can never share that experience. 

It grieves me that Ethan won't have the gift of your counsel through all the stages of his life. It grieves me to see our son's inexpressible pain and the profound suffering of your mother, your sister, and your wife, knowing I am helpless to relieve any of it. It grieves me that your grandchildren will never know their grandfather. 

Did you know that I love you, Byron Michael? I hope you did, and that you are at peace.

*Name changed to protect privacy