Some couples are still united after a lifetime of creating a life together. Others have lost their life partner. Loss comes in so many forms. Death is the most final but divorce, dementia, deterioration of the relationship/body/mind/soul in a physical or psychological manner still result in loss of the life one may have dreamed of.
As I think of the wedding anniversaries I didn't celebrate due to divorce, a year doesn't pass when the date rolls around and reminds me of the life I thought I was going to have when I married over 44 years ago.
We were starry eyed and in love. We knew others didn't believe our marriage would last but we were determined to prove they were wrong. As we sat side-by-side on my husband's truck bench seat, we saw our future lives as two grey haired old souls still sitting side-by-side in any and all future vehicles we would own.
I remember how we laughed together. We spent a lot of time in that truck. Driving. Dreaming. Drive-In movies. Drinking. Dining at the A&W drive-in (insert vintage image of car hops with food trays that clipped onto the driver's window). Bush parties. Youthful shenanigans I never in a million years dreamed a nerdy girl like me would ever have.
Waiting for the phone to ring, back in the days when telephones were wired into a wall, before call display or answering machines. The anticipation of a call with a boy's voice on the other end of the line. My fearful attempts to call him.
He drank too much. I thought it was just part of being young. There was one instance of foreshadowing our future while we were dating. It wasn't a huge deal but looking back, I now recognize the significance.
We were young. We thought we could conquer our world together and tame the demons that seemed to rear their heads when alcohol was involved.
The good times were incredible. Unfortunately the bad times matched the intensity of the good. Making up and the aftermath of the worst of times almost made it worth the pain involved to get to the other side. I was naïve and in love.
One of the most heartfelt gifts I gave my husband was a Zippo lighter - with a Lifetime Warranty. I promised I also came with a lifetime guarantee and would be around as long as the lighter. I thought if I could love him enough and reassure him of my unwavering commitment, he would become more of the person I fell in love with. [Foreshadowing moment I just realized - Zippo lighters come with a Limited Lifetime Warranty] Apparently my guarantee was also of a limited variety.
When we loved, we loved hard. When we hated, we hated with the same intensity. To say I loved him as much as I hated him at times, would be the truth. I knew the end had come when I simply felt indifference.
The young, starry eyed girl who fell head over heals with someone she thought she could heal by simply loving him wanted to honor those wedding vows "Til death do us part". But when a wave of consciousness of what that destiny would mean to two children raised in the-environment-that-was-our-marriage surfaced, I was done.
I doubt I would have seen the light if I was looking out for only myself. It was the vision of what our children would grow up believing was "normal" that bred the indifference I finally felt when I gathered up our children and left.
There was a deep sense of "knowing" I would die an early death within this marriage. By saving my children, I saved myself. And we (for the most part) lived happily ever after.
I missed being part of a couple. I loved being married. Being a wife. Building a future together. Looking towards the future and seeing "us" together until death parted us.
I raised our family. The scars our oldest carries due to his exposure to life-as-we-knew-it prior to the new life we created weighs on me. Our second-born child, an infant when we left, still had a less-than-ideal-childhood, but a childhood I can live with.
Yet, when wedding anniversaries become a topic of discussion, it is the memories of the life we truly believed we would build together that rises to the surface. Two people who believed their love could conquer all. I think of the toasted BLT sandwiches we made as we unloaded our groceries; the frozen fries I cooked in the oven while my husband ran out to buy KFC gravy to go with those fries so we could experience eating out on a budget; it is the times we watched movies together on our brand new VHS player; making up in the middle of the night and sharing a cup of tea. I remember how good it felt to be loved and to reciprocate that love in the only manner I knew.
I believe he loved me as much as he was capable of loving. I loved him as much I could in return.
We were two young kids, believing we knew more than we did, drunk on love (whatever love is) and when life was good, it was very good indeed. We celebrated very few anniversaries together. Forever was not our destiny. But I never forgot the life we believed in.
May your anniversaries carry the wisp of hope and vitality you brought into the forever-ness of the future you believed in. Together or apart, those who have been important to us continue to live within us. Until death parts us. And beyond ...
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