Eight years ago, I took a second walk down the aisle, holding the arm of my soon-to-be husband’s father, who was standing in for my deceased dad. It had taken me ten years to get there, all of it spent with a man I loved and lived with, someone I knew I wanted to grow old with but was afraid to marry until that very moment. In truth, it wasn’t even the fear of marriage that had rattled me all that time, but the idea of the actual ceremony. I such a clear memory of my first wedding day, and of the optimism and joy that marked it: I had been so madly in love the first time I took those vows, and so excited about all the things we were going to do and places we would visit together for the rest of our lives. Six very short years later, the dream was in tatters, and I stood alone in what had been our home, tearful and devastated, left wondering how something that had seemed so full of hope could have evaporated so quickly.
Somewhere in Germany in the summer of 2006, having the pre-honeymoon.
To his credit, my husband has always understood that my fears had nothing to do with my feelings for him, but were rooted in how seriously I had taken my vows the first time. When I love or care for someone, I am deeply loyal to a fault and remain a friend for life no matter what transpires between us. Because of this, the end of the relationship crushed me, and the idea of repeating the same words was difficult; I had meant them so earnestly the first time and had never planned to say them to another man. I was very touched that he accepted my reticence with grace and generosity, letting me know that if I ever got over my doubts, I was just to ask him for his hand in marriage and he would absolutely say yes. In the meantime, he added, we would just continue to enjoy our life together.
Our first dance as a married couple.
I did eventually ask, largely influenced by the safety net he had placed around my heart by his casual acceptance of my trepidations. We had a pre-honeymoon in Europe that summer, then let our wedding coincide with American Thanksgiving to allow his family and our friends to come from the US to attend the festivities. We held the ceremony and reception at the Old Mill in Toronto, enjoying a final burst of uncharacteristically mild weather that made the event all the more enjoyable. Perhaps the most heartwarming part of the service was the reading of a passage from The Velveteen Rabbit by my brother, for it really captured the essence of how we felt then and still do about each other:
“Everything changed and everything stayed the same.” That, in a nutshell, is what followed our exchange of vows. He grew more protective of me in many ways, his arm reaching around me like a subtle cloak to keep me safe emotionally and physically. Our household routines did not alter much, but there grew an ease of manner between us that likely had less to do with being officially married than with the comfort and confidence that the passing of time gives you if you are happy together. And we have been happy, finding common interests in playing tennis together, travelling, and just enjoying one another's company as much as we do spending time apart to pursue our own hobbies or cultivating separate friendships. Some of our tastes clash, whether in music or movies, but none of it matters as we have both been willing to take deep breaths to try and find common ground. Sometimes it means I roll my eyes through a science fiction movie, and sometimes he grits his teeth through a concert I've brought him along to. In our better moments, we find ourselves both enjoying the new experience.
There is no one I trust more than him, and events of the past five years reaffirm for me that I married well this second time: I went from the chronic pain of two separate shoulder injuries (both fully healed now) to experiencing menopause, and the side effects of each condition were immense. For all the emotional upheaval, uncertainties, and mistakes I’ve made in recent months, he is the only one who stood by and held my hand steadily through it all, calmly accepting episodes where I overreacted to events around me, agonized over bad choices, or felt defeated by personal and work-related conflicts. He has, for eighteen years, always had my best interest at heart, and his devotion and kindness have never wavered or been marked by either jealousy or indifference. He has also been a great partner in my professional aspirations, offering advice to keep my teaching career successful, and in helping me to achieve my dream to write and publish novels. I am quite proud of this particular accomplishment, which I could never have done without his assistance and support.
Having a drink together at the Cow Shed in Edinburgh during the 2014 Fringe Festival. Still travelling, still smiling together.
I am a lucky woman to have found him, and perhaps a wise one for asking him the big question before the time grew too late to do so gracefully.There are moments when I wonder how and why he puts up with me, for I know I am at once a useless hausfrau. I often joke that I am just decorative: to this, he will reply that I still amuse him to no end, and that along with my other talents, that this is enough. As you can see, playfulness and affection are alive and well between us. While I know that I am a strong, intelligent, and independent woman, I shudder to think of where I would be today had I not met him all those years ago and taken a chance with him. I'm one of those fearless "act before you think things through" types, and I've lost track of the number of times he has forced me to take a deep breath before I made yet another foolish decision. In exchange, I've likely done the opposite and made him less cautious than he might otherwise have been in many instances. There's a nice complementary balance to our relationship that allows us to bring the best of ourselves to the surface. Despite the nine-year age gap (I'm officially the mature one), it still works, and it works well.
I fucking love you, Austin. Happy Anniversary, and here's to me still loving you when I'm 70. I know you don't love Ed like I do, but at least it's not Biffy, right? ;)
