Surving Loss on Our 40th

Sunday the 4th marks 40 years since Myra and I said 'I do' and chose to be parted by nothing other than death. Eleven years ago, death did just that. Yet to this very day I remain, in my heart, still her husband.

So much has changed in these past eleven years: mortgage cleared, a swath of home projects completed, grandchildren in high school, and new great-grandchildren (albeit by marriage) entering the family fold. Myra's "honey bunny" is now sixty, enjoying retirement, and stoically feeling his years. He's rewritten the monstrosity that is his first manuscript and is nearing completion of drafting the sequel--even though his blog has been dusty for a while. Isis, his feline goddess, runs the household now.

And yet, much hasn't changed. His wedding band remains on his finger and hers around his neck. He still bids her goodnight at the close of every single day. He still writes and is even leading the local writers group. And thoughts of her still bring joy.

The adjustments have been plenty. He now relies on his alarm clock and calendar notifications instead of her reminders to ensure he's where he needs to be and when. He's actually taken a liking to mowing the yard and being outdoors on occasion. He helps cook up a mean Thanksgiving meal (sans the turkey) and sends the bulk of leftovers home with family. And although certainly outside his areas of expertise, he's taken on one home project after another. (Currently, replacing the dining room floor.)

Why all that came out in 3rd-person I have no idea. :-) 

I often wonder what she'd think of me now. She always said I'd find another if she were the first to pass. It's one of the few things about which she was ever wrong. When folks inquire about my still-single status, I half-jokingly tell them 'when you've had the best, why sample the rest?" It's a sincere view on my part, but comes across much lighter than all those deeper, far more somber reasons I tend to keep within.

I've come to the conclusion that healing from loss is not synonymous with "getting over it" or "moving on." Lord knows, healing was slow coming for me. Nor does the pain of loss outweigh the joy of union. When asked if I'd do it all again, the 'absolutely' requires no thought. I'm a better man for having been Myra's husband.

Odd as it might sound after the preceding paragraphs, I've never been sold on the notion of soul-mates, but if soul-mates do indeed exist, then Myra was certainly mine.

My caveat for those married or considering matrimony has long been this simple sentiment:

Successful marriages do not just happen; they are forged, fought for, cried over, and full of self-sacrifice. When something breaks, fix it, don't just look to replace it. Marriage is first and foremost a commitment. Emotions wax and wane; commitment doesn't.

Happy 40th anniversary, Angel Baby!