Michelle and I were together for ten years. We met online and our first half dozen dates were lunch dates. We worked only four blocks from each other, but lived a ferry ride away. (She forgot her reading glasses when we met for our first lunch, so I read the menu to her.)

The relationship commitment markers for gay couples are often different or in a different order than for straight, with gay couples marrying when it becomes legal in their state or in the state across the river, rather than closer to the beginning of their relationship.

Michelle and I did not marry. We were domestic partners under Washington’s weird compromise law which allowed both gay couples 18 and older and straight couples, in which one parter was at least 62, to be domestic partners.

One of the reasons to make our commitment official was to literally become card-carrying domestic partners, so, if one of us, for example, were to be hospitalized, in an area that was not gay-friendly, the other could show our domestic partners card, which might persuade a kind heart to allow the visit.

In 2014 Washington state converted all of the same-sex domestic partnerships to marriages without requiring an affirmative response from the couple. We had moved to California three years prior, and never received the first class letter that was sent outlining our new status.

It wasn’t until I went to a financial planner two years after Michelle and I broke up that I had any idea we were married in the eyes of Washington. We had to file and pay $376 for a divorce. I had to appear in divorce court ninety days after petitioning to dissolve a marriage which had taken place by legislative authority, but without the consent of those marrying.

Prior to the court date I made a ruckus about a state marrying an out of state couple without their knowledge or consent. No one I spoke to at the Secretary of State’s office could understand that one should be able to say, “I do”, before getting married. I planned to say something about the idiocy and bias of the law to the judge, too, but he was very kind and on that day, kindness melted principle.

Our divorce brought Michelle and me back into contact. We talked by phone a couple of times about everything except our relationship. (We didn’t discuss our relationship when we were together, either.)

Michelle was my first love and, so far, my only. She was generous, loving, encouraging, wonderfully fun, thoughtful, playful and smart.

She taught me how to scuba dive; drive a yard tractor and trailer; be a handywoman’s assistant; build a deck or three; enjoy skinny-dipping amidst yard chores, and a be a dog mom. (I never did get the hang of backing that dang tractor up, and would jackknife in the gated corner of the lawn, jump off, wave my arm and shout, “Valet, valet, a little help here!)

We traveled the world scuba diving; remodeled our homes; hosted holiday meals; celebrated friends and family; hired people who needed extra income; gave generously to charities; read both the Harry Potter and Outlander series with glee, and doted on our pets.

She was a very good cook, especially breakfast. On weekends I could tell by the size of my breakfast how much yard work I would be doing that day. We both loved Tillamook Mudslide ice cream and a sign of true affection was to give each other the larger slide of chocolate.

Michelle could also be unrepentantly unkind, cruel at times. She expected to get her way. If there was no opposition, every day was sunny. Light opposition was met with humor or manipulation, cajoling agreement. Firm opposition was met with shaming, being embarrassed in front of friends, and the silent treatment.

We all carry things from our early lives which can make us temporary monsters. We can hurt those we love, both unintentionally and even intentionally. Hopefully, we recognize and apologize when we have caused harm.

Michelle rarely apologized to me, and only in the first few years of our relationship, though she would not speak to me until I apologized to her. I apologized for things that she had done, but blamed me for. I apologized for being who I was and who I wasn’t.

If I became sullen or acted hurt, she would become enraged and once threw a TV at me. She would mock me, tell me our friends didn’t really like me and that it was only because of her that they tolerated me.

And so it went. Michelle ended our relationship placing all of the blame at my feet. All of it.

Now she is gone. I’ve been sad and have cried often. The end of her life has been painful.

At the same time, I believe she has been welcomed home by God. That she is no longer in pain. That she has been wrapped in eternal love. That she is at peace and all is well.

All is well. Good-bye, Michelle.