There is a psychological concept about the body’s long-term response to stress and trauma. I first learned about it in the book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk M.D. Basically, our bodies remember trauma even when we forget. If we pause to consider the significance of a particular date or season, we may realize why our bodies feel a certain way.

Today kicks off a season of remembering:

• Divorce finalized – November 16, 2010
• Last chemo treatment – November 19, 2012
• Official “in-remission” day – December 3, 2012
• Would-be wedding anniversary – December 27, 1997

And today – October 24 – is my ex-husband’s birthday. This is his third birthday since his death on June 15, 2020.

For the past few days, I have been feeling unusually fatigued. Of course, this could easily be explained by work, school, or the stress of some other stuff going on, but this is a different kind of weariness. When I woke up this morning, I remembered the date and thought, “Ah, that explains it.”

For the past few days, I have been thinking about and dreaming about Brad more than normal. Now I remember why. There are a few things that I consistently remember on “Brad” days:

1) I think about how I used to HATE people (especially men) in the entertainment business. I have since come to realize and appreciate that they are not all evil and that all of us, whether or not in the entertainment industry, have two personas – both our public and private. I think I now have a realistic understanding and appreciation for the entertainment business, but I still distance myself from it.

Brad was a phenomenal guitarist, songwriter, and singer. His skills were up there with his hero, Eddie Van Halen. The man was truly one of a kind brilliant. When he got fired from the band he was playing with, he told people that it was jealousy because he got just as much (if not more) attention than the singers. This was certainly true, but it was not the whole truth.

The management still kept Brad close and intended to mold him into the next Garth Brooks. I remember the exact moment his manager came up to me and asked me what I thought. He was beaming as he watched Brad on stage. I could see dollar signs glinting in his eyes.

I told him the truth – that I thought it was a terrible idea. Brad was sick and not ready for this. Success at that level would kill him. The manager’s grin turned into a scowl as he stepped away from me. He never spoke to me again.

Luckily (or unluckily – depending on perspective), Brad managed to do something that even those greedy bastards could not work around, and Brad lost the deal.

Brad never would get help for his drinking or mental health issues. He claimed that all the greats were “crazy,” and medication crippled his creativity.

Alcohol still killed him, but it took a lot longer than I am certain it otherwise would have had he become the next country sensation.

I think about that time – about our marriage after that – about our relationship after divorce – and I have come to realize that, until the day he died, I had been trying to protect him and save him.

The truth is that I never could – no matter how desperately I wanted to.

I saw the Elvis movie earlier this year. There is a scene with Elvis and Priscilla sitting in the back of a car. They were divorced. You could tell that they still loved each other, and Priscilla still wanted to protect and save Elvis. She asked him to get help, told him it was not too late. You could tell by the look in Elvis’s eyes that, as much as he wanted to do it for her, as desperately as he wanted to believe her, he just couldn’t. Elvis had given up. He believed it was too late for him. Nothing Priscilla said or did could change that. She could not save him.

That moment grieved me because I lived a similar moment with Brad. It took me until the day he died to truly accept that Brad had given up a long time ago and I was powerless to protect or save him.

2) I also realized that love is not enough. Brad and I used to say that it was us against the world. But it wasn’t. It was Brad against himself – me against anyone who wanted to hurt him – us against each other.

Love was not enough to save us when neither one of us were willing to face our demons and do the frightening and challenging work to fix ourselves and our marriage.

3) Time does not heal all wounds. I hate that saying. Time heals nothing if we are not willing, like love, to put in the hard work to heal. Broken hearts do not mend themselves. Even God requires our active participation.

I remember asking Brad if he ever thought about me before he cheated. He said he did. I asked him what he thought. He said he thought a woman could knock on the door and tell me she was there to take him on a date. I would say, “Okay. Have fun. I’m off to Krav Maga.”

His words stung. Obviously, there are better ways to handle problems than to cheat, but he was not wrong. Of course I loved him, but how was he to know that? I was an emotional stump back then. I refused to let myself feel anything or show any emotion. It was a way of protecting myself.

In that moment, I realized my way did nothing to protect me. It simply hurt both me and the one I loved. I vowed to do whatever it took to fix me – no matter what happened with us. And I have done just that. It has taken me many years to undo a lifetime of getting it wrong, but I am better for it.

I often wonder what if? Where would we be if he had not given up on himself?

Ours was a complicated relationship. I hurt him just as much as he hurt me. Still, we never stopped loving each other and I probably will always love him.

One thing I regret is that the world will never get to experience his talent. He certainly could have been the next Garth Brooks or Eddie Van Halen. He was his own worst enemy, though, and self-sabotaged every opportunity he had.

Maybe one day the world will know, but for now, I leave the song he wrote for me – our wedding song.

Something About Renee – written and performed by Bradley Vaughn Ruthven

Happy birthday in heaven, Brad. I miss you.