Twenty-three years ago today I got into a car with a very handsome man dressed in blue pants and a white shirt, drove a couple of hours to a courthouse in the very bucolic town of Mt. Vernon, Washington and, during the lunch break of a local judge, and in the presence of the bailiff and court secretary, married the man to whom I am still married today. The bailiff fired off a few snapshots from my then-cheesy 35mm camera (pictures I, years later, Photoshopped to the excellent results below!), we had lunch at a nearby cafe where a bottle of champagne and a slice of pecan pie with a bride & groom atop awaited us, then we drove north to Vancouver to spend three days at the Pan Pacific Hotel as our rainy, wondrous honeymoon. It was perfect… and when people ask if I ever regret not having a wedding, I assure them I still think it was perfect, to this very day.
There is much to be said for weddings done right (I covered a few of those HERE), and certainly the topic of marriage is a deep and many-layered one (in The Warmest Chord my own heartfelt perspective is offered), but on this anniversary, from where I sit many years beyond that glorious Pacific Northwestern day, currently miles away from my stoic, stalwart husband who continues to deal with the ramifications of brain injury, the message of marriage I have to share is a different one than I had 23 years ago.
It’s a stronger one, one built more on wisdom, resilience, commitment and compassion than wild romance and youthful lust. Though, don’t get me wrong; I’m all for romance and lust, revel in it whenever it presents itself (which, as most of us would attest, is never enough!), but life teaches that any long-term relationship survives within an unpredictable mix of emotion and events… and the way we respond to both. And the longer I live the more I realize, while I may not be able to predict events that come flying my way (damn that unpredictable universe), I can do something about how I interpret, respond to, and learn from those unfolding moments.
Love is a funny thing, too. It keeps you attached and aware of that other person; sensitive to their needs and emotions, impacted by the events of their life that can overlap your own. Sometimes those intersections are lovely, sometimes they’re… challenged. As any couple knows who’s dealt with illness, adversity, injury, or any of those kinds of unexpected events that knock us off our feet – a job lost, a disease diagnosed, a family member’s death; a brain injury – marriage can become about endurance and tenacity, a balance between attachment and detachment, even an ability to let go when needed to allow life to reorganize into some different while you’re away.
As the wife of a husband dealing with brain injury, I’ve learned about that part of being married. I’ve learned (as I wrote years ago in Love In the Age of MTBI) how circumstances can change and impact a marriage, make it more complicated and mercurial, shake it up in ways that can both take your breath away (and not always in a good way) and make you realize how strong your relationship really is, strong enough to endure the dark corners stumbled upon repeatedly and sometimes without warning. When pain episodes strike, when the walls go up and the lights go down and you realize plans will change, warmth will take a holiday, communication will be backburnered in lieu of necessary isolation and silence, it’s then that you face the reality of what you and your chosen one created back on that magical day, years earlier, in a courthouse in Mt. Vernon…
The tether. The bond. The connection. You can pull apart because you have to, because you both need time to regroup and recalibrate, but you never stop feeling the connection. The love. The sense that you are family and you will get through this to a happier time, a better time.
And while away, if you’re smart, you’ll take the opportunity to pursue your own “vision quest.” You’ll pay attention, listen, learn, and remember that thoughts impact reality; you’ll readjust your own view of life to get stronger, more compassionate and loving… to him and to yourself.
And if, during that time, an anniversary pops up, you’ll pay attention to that, too. You’ll look at that person – from wherever you are – with all the love you feel, all the belief you have in what’s good and right, and you’ll … celebrate another anniversary. Another year of marriage. Another worse endured for all that is better.
Because what you find when you step away, when you take that breath, and look at the reality outside of pain and the adversities life throws at you, is that what’s better is so, so much more than what’s worse. Worse, you can overcome; better, is the life you’ve created and will continue to create. That’s the lesson, the true gift of a long-term marriage.
Happy anniversary to us!
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6 thoughts on “The Lesson Of Long-Term Marriage: What’s Better Is So Much Better Than What’s Worse”
Exquisite post, Lorraine. Bittersweet and achingly honest. Happy Anniversary!
Thank you, Jennifer. Always appreciate your thoughtful words. xxoo LDW
Happy anniversary and many more to come!
Thank you, Heather! I’ll take that wish! xxoo LDW
I was a spinal cord injury rehab nurse back in the day. The work also included care of those with brain injury–mild and otherwise. I’m sad to hear you and your husband have had to make your way through this. I’ve only done so in a professional capacity and a late-onset dementia sufferer in my family. However, one of my Canadian cousins is an occupational therapist of some renown, having written one of the first books to discuss “meeting the individual where he/she is,” rather than trying to push the person to where we’re more comfortable with his/her actions/reactions. I’m sure you’ve figured out much of this yourself, but having someone validate that approach can be freeing. Should you want to touch base with her, I’d love help make that happen 🙂 . She’s very accessible and understanding. I was blessed to have her with me during the days my dad was dying. I was soooo distressed, and she somehow knew just what to say.
Kay: Thanks so much for your kind words and your inside perspective. Yes, it’s been quite the “journey” (that word we both love so much!:) and in the beginning years, when I knew so little about it, I stumbled a lot. But in the ensuing years since, I’ve had the great good fortune to join a great support group of TBI survivors who’ve been excellent support, and yes, it’s about “who we are NOW,” not what we/he used to be. Which can be quite an adjustment, but when we find the calm place, it’s all still worth everything we’ve been through. Life… amazing “journey,” isn’t it? 🙂
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