Rebuilding Rob

Prologue (2026)

In the chronology of this blog, there is a hollow space—a three-year gap where the screen went mostly dark. When I finally returned on October 21, 2020, it was to acknowledge a milestone that no longer existed in the present, only in the rearview mirror: my 20th wedding anniversary.

Reading this now, six years after it was published and twenty-six years after that unseasonably warm Michigan day, I see a man tentatively stepping back into the light. I was beginning to find “The Art of Moving Slowly,” though I didn’t have a name for it yet. I was looking for omens in the weather, trying to make sense of a story that hadn’t yet reached its most important chapter: the moment I stopped choosing between “Option A” and “Option B” and finally chose myself.

Here is that “return” post, exactly as it was written in the middle of the silence.

This is not how I envisioned my return to the world of blogging to be. But when the time came, it made perfect sense. Today would have been the twentieth wedding anniversary of Jabba and I.

I can remember the day itself as if it was yesterday; either though neither Jabba nor myself are anywhere near the same people we were twenty years ago.

It was unseasonably warm that day. If I recall correctly, the temperature got as high as 65 (18 C) that day. It may have even flirted with 70. In fact, at times it almost felt too hot for late October in Michigan. There’s an old superstition that rain on your day is good luck. In hindsight, maybe it should have been an omen that there was zero chance of rain in the forecast that day.

I got ready for what-was-then the biggest day of my life in the very same basement from which I am now blogging. The Apostle, my oldest friend in this life and my best man was with me. As zero hour approached, I began pacing and the weight of everything that was about to transpire hit me. I’ve never had it verified to me, but I’m sure that the Apostle said something to the Old Man; because The Old Man gave me some of his vintage advice – a piece that will stay with me until the day I die.

“Rob,” he said, “what you today really isn’t going to change your everyday life at all. You guys have been living together for years”. Practical as always, The Old Man was absolutely correct. Jabba and I had met when we both went to our college’s registration day nearly five years prior. We had gone on our first date about a week later and were basically inseparable ever since.

The Old Man’s pep talk did a lot to calm my nerves, but I was still overcome with emotion that day. I was choked up all through my vows. I haven’t watched our wedding video in a very long time, but I also remember us having trouble with keeping the unity candles standing up.

During the downtime between the ceremony/photos and the reception, the wedding party went to Dave & Busters, and drank on the bus of course. I distinctly remember consuming a lot of alcohol. Dionysus himself must have had my back that day.

As for the reception, that was just about perfect. One of my groomsmen, who I’ll call Tobasco, told me a few years after that it was still the best wedding he’d ever been to. He’s married now, so I assume that his own wedding has eclipsed mine in his memories, but it was still a great party nonetheless.

In spite of the failure of our marriage, and the bad blood that simmered between Jabba and I for years afterward, I can look back on my wedding day and enjoy the good memories. Sure, I wish that some of the principal players were different but I wouldn’t be the person I am today otherwise. Neither of my sons would be the people they are if anything were to have played out differently. My relationships with Jabba and The Kid are the best they have been in years. In the case of Jabba, its the best its been since before our divorce.

This is the best I have felt on this date in years.

It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Maybe I’ll try to catch up on the last 2 years; but I think it’s best if I move forward.

Epilogue (2026)

“Maybe I’ll try to catch up… but I think it’s best if I move forward.”

In 2020, I was still negotiating with my past. I was happy just to be at peace with the “bad blood” and the “omens.” I hadn’t yet realized that “moving forward” isn’t a straight line; there are a lot of starts and stops along the way.

Today, that 70-degree day in October 2000 doesn’t feel like a failed prophecy or a missed omen. It feels like the start of a very long, very necessary education. I used to think the success of that day was measured by the longevity or even the very survival of the marriage. Now, I know the success of that day is sitting in the life of Kid 1, and in the man who is still here, still blogging, and still choosing to see the “Unexpected Wins” in the middle of the gaps.

Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like, 👍 comment and subscribe to my blog below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media as well! Check out my most recent posts as well as some earlier, related (and perhaps, not-so-related) posts:

• Staying in the Room
• Choosing to Be the Villain
• The Hoverboard Hoax: A Lesson in Cinematic Optimism
• The Great Equalizer
• Ring Cameras and Red Bags: Why I Can’t Be a Criminal

The article “It was 20 Years Ago Today” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob.