A couple of weeks ago, I was deleting some email when I spotted the name—THE name.  The name of the soldier that I looked for for 15 years.  It said in the subject line, “So & So has sent you a friend request.”  No, it wasn’t Facebook; it was a military site where I had a profile in one of my many attempts to find him.  
I stared and stared at it. It felt like a dream when I clicked on the confirm button, but there wasn’t a picture, so I couldn’t be sure.  I sent a message asking, “Is this the same So & So that went to Fort Sam Houston in the 91G program?”  He sent back, “Yeah, it’s really me...” and went on to do the sort of question-asking you do when you haven’t spoken to someone for so many years.
I checked out his profile on the website, and the first paragraph started with “My wife and I....” so he was categorically, mostly, put onto my off-limits list. Then I thought, that could be old—who knows?  I asked if we could talk and he said he didn’t want trouble at home, so let’s talk on Monday.  Not so hot.
When the phone rang on Monday, I still felt as if in a dream.  I had waited for this moment for so many years. When I heard his voice, I thought it didn’t sound the same.  Actually, when I first saw the email, that pesky little ego jumped in to ask, is this some kind of joke?  Not funny, even cruel... Who would do that?
The cadence of his speech was much faster than I remembered, and the low, sexy tenor was missing because he had a cold.  He went on to tell me that he had Googled my name about six months ago and found my collage art, newspaper articles, and some photos.  “I’m not stalking you or anything...” he said, but I told him, “If you knew the lengths I’ve gone to find you, you would think I was crazy.”  He asked, so I told him about my initial search, then the talk show letters and how they got ahold of me to find him.  He said the Dr. Phil show did find him, but when they wouldn’t say who was looking, he wouldn’t cooperate.  The reason I couldn’t find him is because he was out of the country on many different occasions.  
He told me how he met his wife, and I said I hoped he was happily married.  “We have our ups and downs like everyone,” he said, “but I AM married, I just want you to know that.”  I knew.  Okay, now he is definitely off-limits.  The tone of the conversation changed and we caught up with the mutual people we hung out with in school. I told him about my lovely daughter, where we’ve lived and worked, etc.  All the while, my brain, heart, and ego were working overtime.  My brain was saying, this is it forever—you will no longer have to wonder what happened or what would happen if you ever connected again.  My heart sank further and further down, accepting what will never be.  My ego said, “See?  You wasted all that time and energy longing for what?!  That’s what you get!”  Oh, shut up. The heart won.
At the end of our conversation, he offered me his work email and work phone number so we could stay in touch.  I asked what his wife would think of that, and he said she would flip out.  I wrote down the information, but didn’t know what I would do with it.  Eventually, I sent an email saying how much I loved hearing from him, but as much as I would like to continue to talk, I can’t help but think of his wife and that if I were his wife, I wouldn’t want him talking to someone like me.  I said to only contact me if he was single, and furthermore, I didn’t wish for him to be single but remain happily married.  When he wrote back, he said he agreed and applauded my decision and how much his timing sucked.  Would I want a man handing out his work number in secret?  That’s where the joke is on me, because I most certainly would not.
Still, wasted energy?  I don’t think any experience is ever wasted.  This experience just happened to span a 20-year period and gave me many joyful moments and fond memories.  Maybe I needed that at the time, but now it’s like I had a colorful bunch of balloons in my head and they’ve all popped at once, leaving this wide open space.  Space for staying in the present moment instead of looking back.
For a couple of days, the slightest sentiment would make me tear up as if I were slowly letting out the monumentally disappointing, bittersweet outcome.  One morning I woke up because I was crying in a dream but I couldn’t remember why.  My body was trying to deal with it, but I never sat down and had a big wail while on the ground, kicking my feet and pounding my fists.  I can be sad about it, it’s a sad thing, but I’ve accepted what is and feel a little more free.  I’m also quite proud of myself for not going against my values just because I held a 20-year crush.  Quite idealistically, I hoped it would make him a better husband, knowing that I said thanks but no thanks even after everything I’ve done to find him.  That no matter how much and how long I wanted him, it was still not okay to sneak around in whatever form.
So many dreams have come true in the past few months, and some not with the outcome I imagined.  They say to never attach yourself to the outcome, just to dream big, be yourself, try your best, share your gifts, be of service, and most of all be grateful, and you will have the life you’re meant to live.  I am grateful to shut the door on this mystery and am ever so curious as to what is next.