Opening The Box

Mary McCorvey
Jul 25, 2025
5 min read

Originally published on Mary McCorvey's Substack.

By January 1991, nearly a year had gone by since Rob told Deanna that he had had an affair. Although wildly understated, this description met the needs of the moment. She did not know with whom, or many of the details, and insofar as I know, does not to this day.

He made the decision to tell her when my marriage to Tim crumbled, and did not know how she might respond. Ultimately, they both chose to remain committed to their marriage and family. The deafening noise in our respective lives truly tested our fortitude, perseverance, and resilience.

During that year, Rob and I kept in touch, though we did not see one another. When my marriage to Tim ended, I focused on my career and maintaining a relationship with my former step-daughters. Their mother was kind enough to let me see them.

And for me, another chapter was turning. Iraq had invaded Kuwait in yet one more interminable Middle East war, and America’s military might was drawn into Operation Desert Storm. I became dedicated to serving there, and eventually, I did.

Now, 35 years later, I drew this letter from The Box.

January 23rd, 1991

It’s so good to steal away a few minutes and write to you because I’ve been running with you, as always, on my mind. Back and forth into the memories and then now.

My year with Deanna, rebuilding, uncovering, understanding, and loving has brought me the happiness you wish for me.

It could be just short of unbelievable. A period of quiet triumph which will never be known to anyone but us. And that includes you, Mary.

Your support and love has made this year of success possible. I know what you’ve had to reconcile and at times you must think you’re crazy. And I thank you for not giving up and for caring so strongly and silently.

To let me go my way and believing in me to be honest with myself and accepting what anyone else might think bizarre are just some of the qualities that make you, you.

Freely admitting to a love that will never materialize in the now and go on, tearfully at times, smilingly at times, into your new horizon.

I can write confidently like this about you and your feelings and hopes and dreams for me because all these are my feelings, hopes and dreams for you.

A day in my life never passes that I don’t consciously know how you’ve helped me and how difficult it’s been.

The smallest of things – the way you carefully and lovingly phrase a sentence or time a call or don’t call or don’t come at all to help me – never escapes me nor will they ever.

Thank you, Mary, thank you for letting me love you. I’ve been hoping a lot for you. That you stay as free as you will, to intertwine with folks of caring and knowing, and to fulfill your desires for yourself and where you want to be. Hopes you share for me, I’m sure.

Why hell, this letter is written by me, to you, for you, for me, and shit the difference doesn’t seem clear to me. Must be that crazy connection we have and will have no matter what our circumstance and proximity.

You must be very mindful these days of what’s happening in Iraq. You are close to all the happenings both in information and your heart. I find I’m preoccupied as if I was 23 years back and trying to make sense of it all.

Twelve hundred sorties, countless dead, … such devastation. This war is confusing to me, Mary. Why Iraq? Why not? I will continue to think of you there. As I’ve told you, I don’t like the idea, but if that’s what you want, I will in my small way support you.

I’ve been dreaming a lot about you lately. Are you sure you’re not projecting your astral substance? It’s been a lot of fun and I’ve enjoyed every minute, now and then, and always.

I am so very happy to know you.

For all the insanity and hurt and craziness and joy, I love you Mary. If you ever get down to thinking that there’s nothing for sure in your life, you can believe in this one small truth: however distant and out of touch we are, wherever our lives take us, whatever we must place between us – I love you Mary.

Those words, as you can imagine, took me back to the tumultuous time when our physical love was no longer. A combination of pain from my own marriage ending and the crushing void from my relationship with Rob are as visceral today as they were then.

Now, all this time later, reflection gives me solace and peace.

Dear Rob,

From the depths of my soul, thank you for the letters, thoughts, love, and deeds from 1990 all the way through today, and I know, into the future. We both always knew that between us, forever was a given.

I believe our lives have been full—of joy, of pain, of deep, rich experience—and in their own ways, as immeasurable as ours together.

As the years have gone by and the seasons of life have evolved, I find that I’ve experienced you most often when I’ve been happy. These days are one of those times.

If I could see you, sit across from you, look into those wonderful eyes that dance and cry, and tell you what I’d like to say, it would be this: I am living my best life. I am not just happy, I’m authentic in my space, which is a feeling of peace, honor, and love. I’m surrounded by those who love me, and I’m creating what I believe are meaningful experiences for people.

Opening The Box began with butterflies in my stomach at midnight on a blustery, cold March tick of the clock. I didn’t know it, but you were calling to me, reaching to me from afar. I believe that with all my heart. Were you asleep, dreaming? Were you outside, perhaps, wrapped up against the frigid night, gazing at the moon?

What an experience this has been, to visit with you, to read your letters, to succumb to the feelings we’ve felt all along. It’s a gift I shall always treasure.

In closing this letter, I leave you with your words to me:

“If you ever get down to thinking that there’s nothing for sure in your life, you can believe in this one small truth: however distant and out of touch we are, wherever our lives take us, whatever we must place between us – ”

I love you Rob.

Always,Mary

It’s time to close the box…for now.

It’ll never be locked again, for there are no secrets to be held, only joy to share for anyone who would choose to reach inside. I will do that, from time to time, to experience once again the depth of emotional, physical, and spiritual feelings that two humans can share.

Thank you, dear listener and reader, for coming with me on this journey.

One Last Ask, from My Heart to Yours: If this series stirred something in you—if you found pieces of yourself in the letters, or glimpses of a love once held or still longed for—please consider sharing Opening The Box with someone who may need it. Love has a way of rippling far beyond the moment it was first felt. Let's let it ripple together.

And stay with me, dear reader. More stories await. This may be the final page of this box, but it's only the beginning of the next chapter.

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With love always, Mary

Heartbeats are Finite. Possibilities are Infinite.