Oh the things I could have learned from an animated fish while I was still married. A forgetful little blue and yellow fish who made a final plea for the little clownfish she loved, the “jellyman” who was the first to never leave her side.
“He’s traveled hundreds of miles. He’s been battling sharks and jellyfish… He’s swimming and he’s swimming and he’s giving it all he’s got and then three gigantic sharks capture him and he blows them up! And then he dives thousands of feet and gets chased by a monster with huge teeth. He ties this demon to a rock and what does he get for it? He gets to battle an entire jellyfish forest! And now he’s riding with a bunch of sea turtles on the East Australian current and the word is he’s headed this way right now, to Sydney.”
Little Marlin traveled so far, traveled so hard, did so much. Three hungry sharks who savagely craved blood. An endless road of jelly-paved pain. A creature enshrouded in dark, manipulating that darkess demonically to entrance it’s prey. A little metal-faced meanie with pig-tails (of all the things in Finding Nemo that I find most horrifying, it’s the pigtails). Marlin’s journey was fraught with hardships. Dory and Marlin could have taught me so much about marriage and staying that way. About love and fighting for instead of against one another.
And I’d give everything in life for the chance to be hers again. I’d fight the ocean. I’d forsake everything. I’d start over. I’d give my all and I’d give it forever. I’d fight off shark attacks or die trying like in The Shallows. I’d suffer through the pain of a million jellyfish stings. Even the dangerous Box Jellyfish or Portuguese Man O’ War. I’d gladly take Jonah’s place inside of the belly of the whale for just a single moment in her presence. But I didn’t do those things when I was supposed to. It’s like I went looking for Nemo after hearing that Nemo was already belly-up.
There were things during our marriage that made it appear that I was too arrogant or entitled to fight for. I was in fact judgmental and horrible. I was a genuine jerk. But I was so torn inside and fighting so many battles within my heart that I didn’t know how to fight for her. I should have heeded the song and just kept swimming. Just kept swimming toward her, knowing that if I pursued God and her simultaneously, I couldn’t have failed.
And now she’s gone and I lost my home. My home is gone. Someone else gets to live with her. And wake up to her. And kiss her. And love her unconditionally. Someone else gets to admire her, and gaze into her eyes. Someone else gets to be hers and she theirs, and there’s absolutely nothing in the world that I can do about it. Except pray and plead with the One who placed us together originally. Perhaps I still have a shot at Finding Her. Perhaps her heart might change like mine did now so long ago.
“Please… I don’t want that to go away… I don’t want to forget… Please… Please… Please…”