To Have and To Hold...

April 28, 1995

      
                                                           　
"If you love something, set if free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was..."

"Wait for a time, exactly under the star. Then, if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair...you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me. Send me word that he has come back..." ~Antoine de Saint-Exupery from, The Little Prince

http://youtu.be/Ttd1yDbjUpY [On Golden Pond/Dave Grusin]


Today has been a happy day – a reflective day. You see, it was on this day, 17 years ago, that I married my best friend on the sixth anniversary of our first date. That first date, and the night that followed it several years later, are perfectly etched in my mind with such clarity that if I close them, I can be right back in its moments. They were beautiful days.

It rained here today, however, but it didn’t dampen our mood, our thoughts or our reflections. We’ve traveled a long way together on this road of life we share. I’m his co-pilot, and he rides shotgun for me or vice-versa, depending on from whose vantage point the view is seen. Hopefully, we’ve got a longer journey yet ahead.

Looking back on the road we’ve traveled thus far, we couldn’t help but note all the changes in our world, our families and our lives in the nearly two decades we’ve been married. Loved ones have left us and gone to their eternal rest as have a few friends; marriages of loved ones have broken apart; physical limitations have risen; and, the changes continue coming. The "best of times and worst of times", I have shared with Tom. The greatest joys I’ve ever known as well as the deepest lows, are tied to him. The joys are too many to count. The sorrows are few, namely, the deprivation of raising our children who we had for only a few golden months each, before heaven called them back...burying my father and several other family members, some illness here and there that have crept upon us...yet we understand that life cannot realistically be lived without a few painful moments. Thankfully, ours have been few, and we are blessed.

I think back to that first April 28^th we shared 23 years ago. It was a great night, much like the one that came on the night that changed my life forever, when Tom added to my name and who I am as a person. On the first April 28^th, we went out with a group of friends for a meal, then went to play pool. I’d never played pool. I didn’t understand the rules of the game, and had no idea that when I shot the 8 ball into that coveted hole that pool players are suppose to shoot those solid and stripped balls into, that I’d actually lost us the game. All I knew was that balls were on the table geared to be shot and dropped into those dispersed holes around the table’s circumference, and I’d dropped the 8 ball. It seemed like an omen: 8 is the symbol of infinity, and I had bagged that one. I was ecstatic as were those on the opposing team. Within a minute, I had been informed by several friends who were enjoying my accomplishment as much as I was [those on that opposing team] that I’d actually made a huge faux pas. Immediately, my sense of joy sank into a black hole much as that black 8 ball had done only moments before. I looked to Tom to tell him I was sorry, but instead of being upset, he was smiling at me and clapping – genuinely proud that I had accomplished what the object of the game was, regardless of that fact that it was the wrong ball that had slipped down into that hole. He appreciated the fact that I had done what I thought I was suppose to do, and that was good enough for him. Little did I know that it would become a metaphor of our life together. What I mean by that is that it doesn’t seem to matter if I fall short in task, he’s proud that I tried–made the effort. That night, he made me feel like the best thing since Wonder bread. It is a feeling that I wish every person could know once in their lifetime.

I remember a friend told me that a first date isn’t when you go out with a group of friends. I agreed with her. That’s an outing. The first date part came later, when we sat in his truck until four a.m., talking about everything under the sun – important things, and mundane things. We’ve always had great conversation, and it began on that very first night we spent together talking until the dark night turned into a faint dawn. Later that day, I called my Aunt Judy, who was anxious to hear all the details of that first date. I remember telling her that I’d met the man I was going to marry, and if I didn’t marry him, then it wasn’t going to be in the cards for me. It wasn’t a moment of drama. It was an intuitive knowing.

I’ve heard often in life that timing is everything. At the time we first connected, the forever dream, though discussed, wasn’t in the cards for us. We were 3/4 of the way on the same page, but we both knew that to make something work and be successful that we had to be 100% on the same page. We weren’t ready, and we couldn’t stay together in that state of unreadiness. It was a painful breakup because no one was "the bad guy", but it was painful nonetheless. It was the first time in my life that I’d felt a pain in my heart that I didn’t believe it could withstand.

During the four years that we were apart, we never truly lost contact with the other, proof that the ties that bind us are strong ones. Periodically, at different times of the year, we’d call the other just to say hello and see how the other was doing. Ironically, during all that time apart, we’d both each only had one blind date. I remember telling my mother once, when she asked me why I didn’t seem interested in dating, that I didn’t know where one went after they’d met their soul mate? It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, because she wanted me to have the kind of life that’s she’d always wished and envisioned for me. She said as much to me, and I remember telling her that I hadn’t given up on Tom just yet.

My faith in holding out and holding on paid off. Tom and I reconnected on Valentine’s Day 2004, and the rest is history. Fourteen months later, I took the most important walk of my life. As with our first date, I remember that night so vividly. One thing that sticks out the most in my mind was walking, on my father’s arm, into the doorway of our church as "The Wedding March" played and everyone stood up. Tom stood at the end of that aisle smiling at me–waiting for me. All I wanted to do was get to him, but I recall my father squeezing my hand that was looped through his arm and whispering for me to wait.

His hushed tone slowed me down because he wanted to make certain that I had my full moment. [We get so few in life]. "Hold on, Sug!" he directed. "Let everyone get a good look at you."

I glanced over at him as tears came to my eyes, much the way they had in the vestibule when I teased him about finally being able to give me away, and he cleared his throat, trying not to let his own emotion get the better of him, and told me that he wasn’t giving me away, he was merely "passing me along...."

I wasn’t accustomed to comments of that nature from my father. I knew he loved me. He told me so, but these particular comments were sweet, tender moments that let me know this event wasn’t as easy for him as I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong. My father adored Tom. He use to say he couldn’t have done a better job if he’d picked him out himself. Still, until I became engaged, my father was the most important man in my life, and that was changing. Another man was taking that spot, and he knew that my place within our family was shifting. I understand his comments and feeling so much better now as I’ve gotten older and wiser. I remember he seemed to relax a bit when I cheerfully told him that he wasn’t losing a daughter but he was gaining a son. No truer words were ever spoken, because Tom truly has been a son to my parents, and they both considered him in that light.

I heeded his advice and was so thankful for it in that moment, however, as well as the advice of a colleague who told me to make certain that we walked through our reception room at The Comus Inn, situated at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain, before the festivities began and take time to look at our cake, food table and decorations, because she had failed to do that, and her memories of her night were a blur. I did both of those things: I stopped in the doorway of our church’s sanctuary and took a deep breath as I looked around at all who were in attendance. I remember seeing friends like Ginny, Linda, Dawn, Carolyn, and my friends from my days working at the hotel. I saw my boss and the president of our union. I saw my mother and Tom’s family – my soon-to-be new sister, Kathy. And, I can still see the look on Tom’s face as I stood there, waiting to join him.

I also remember our beautiful cake, the large basket filled with birdseed with the lavender ribbons and the display that had the tree saplings that were our party favors. I remember the gorgeous mountain views outside the window of the restaurant, and the beautiful day that faded into a spectacular evening. It was a perfect night - the most perfect one I’ve ever known. I was Cinderella at the magical ball and the carriage didn’t turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck midnight. The room was filled with laughter, love, smiling faces, great food and dancing late into that Friday night as it eased into early, early Saturday morning. I wish everyone could be the lead character in a night such as that.

So much as happened in the ensuing years: our dream to become parents and raise children didn’t work out very well for us. Our babies weren’t meant to live here, and though that’s not and has never been okay with us, it’s one of those "unfortunates" that life sometimes adds to one’s story. Tom, however, went back to school and became a Special Education teacher, something that is his true calling. We moved to Virginia a few years ago, which was another surprising twist in our journey, because I never thought I’d leave Maryland. My father, his two sisters, my grandmother and Uncle Ed are gone now, as is our beautiful minister, Anne-Jeanne Quay. Carolyn’s "Darling, Sweet Larry" has also gone to the "next place"; our country has been involved in two wars since we said our "I Do’s"; and, it seems like Tom and I are living in more similar economic times like my grandparents lived during the depression of the 1930's, though technologically, we’re living the scenario of the 1960's cartoon, "The Jetsons". It truly has been a wild ride, and we’re only about a third of the way into that 50 years we promised each other.

Our hair is a little grayer; our waists are a little thicker; our wisdom is a lot broader; and, our outlook continues to be positively directed outward – together, looking toward the future.

This evening, I looked over at my husband snoozing in his recliner with two puppies lightly snoring in his lap, and I had to smile. I got my brass ring! This is the good life, and though we’ve settled in a bit and don’t do all the little romantic things we did when we were courting, as my grandmother used to say, he still makes my heart go pitter pat. We struggle; we disagree, we laugh; we cry; but, we continue to hold hands and stick together....this is our life, and I will be forever grateful that God blessed me with such a good one...

http://youtu.be/3gziSnkICbk [This Is Our Life/Mary Beth Maziarz]