Today is the anniversary of my parents’ wedding.
They’ve been together all of my life. That’s a rare thing, these days. I’m grateful for their commitment to one another and to their marriage.
I marvel at how they can look back and see the long trajectory of their lives, together as a couple, separate as a man and a woman who came together in the early sixties and have lived as family for over fifty years. So much to consider. So much life, lived. Ups and downs, for sure. A million memories…
It’s complicated, in this season. As my dad says, often, I can’t do what I used to do. His eyes fill with tears and his head drops. It breaks his heart. But then he squares his shoulders and does his best to force the correct signals from his brain through the neurotransmitters that make his legs move.
It’s a struggle.
And my mom worries and frets and does her level best to care for him, while trying to manage her own emotions and navigate the ongoing grief that has chipped away like tiny paper cuts at the dreams they had for their retirement, shredded some 15 years ago by the merciless injury of a stroke.
But they are here, together. And I’m so thankful. This week, a friend who has come to know my parents only recently, and spent some time with them last week, said to me, Oh, I just love your dad. And your mom. I just love them.
She laughed, and her shoulders lifted up around her ears in a shrug of joy, and I received the gift of perspective she offered me, with a slow smile and a grateful heart.
Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad.