...Marriage

A friend asked me once "if something happened to Jeremy, would you get married again?"

Without hesitation, my answer was "No.  I may live with someone but, I'll never get married again."

She was stunned.  "You don't like being married?  Living with someone is the same thing as being married."

Uh-huh.  Sure.  You can believe that.  I know differently. 

Marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  I have buried both of my parents, my sister, my dad was sick - y'all my life was a bitch!   Still is.  And yes, marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done!

I didn't know 13 years ago what it meant when I stood on that white sandy beach and promised that guy "for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do we part".  I only knew we were married.  I had no idea exactly what that meant. I knew I promised him forever and I promised God.  I'm not one to give up on a promise...

Then came all the bumps.  The house that had more problems than we had money, the miscarriages - so many that I'd eventually lose count, an adoption, losing my mother and every single little thing (and big thing) in between.  We fought.  We fought a lot.  Oh, and more than a lot.  And then we fought some more.  I blamed me, I blamed him, he blamed him and I'm sure he blamed me.  We yelled, we cried.  It was hard.  And we fought even more.

We got help.  We went to a counselor together. I went to one alone.  He went to one alone. I saw another one alone. It was hard. 

We had a lot of fun together.  As a couple and as a family.  We took a few trips, made a lot of memories.  Enjoyed our time together.  That part wasn't so hard.

At the end of the day, my husband is my best friend.  He knows all of my secrets, all of my goals and all of my dreams.  He knows them because he shares in them.  They're his too.  We built them together.  He wants what I want.  I want what he wants.  All of the talking, all of the fighting, all of the gains, all of the fighting and every single one of the losses got us here.  Us.  Together. 

We don't often do things apart.  We have great friends, friends we may not see often, yet when we do, it's like we never left them.  We don't have people in our relationship that aren't healthy for our marriage. We don't go out drinking in bars without the other.  It's not a trust thing, it's a respect thing.  Respect for each other, our family and mostly respect for our marriage.  This is our investment.  We nurture it, we honor it, we protect it.  We don't allow anything in that could destroy it.

Trust.  Trust is big.  I trust him. I trust him with my life.  I trust him with my child. I believe him and I believe in him.  

I love my husband - completely.  I love his smile, his heart, and all of his goofy quirks (like who the hell takes the middle bun out of a Big Mac and eats it?  By itself?).  I couldn't imagine a moment of this life without him.   I love being married. I love being married to him.

I hope he enjoys being married to me.

I wouldn't invest in someone this way again.  Not only because it's hard, I've never taken the easy road in anything, ever but, because I don't believe there is anyone else that is worth the time, the fight, the energy, to make it work.  Not like this.

Thanks Jeremy.  Thank you for loving me at my best and at my worst.  Thanks for picking me up, and sometimes letting me down. Thanks for holding my hand, for holding me back and for letting me soar.  Thank you for all of the ups, downs, lefts and rights, all of the forwards and even some of the backwards. At the end of every single day, I'm still glad it was you!

Being #6

I was always content to be #6.  "The Baby".  When I was little, I loved tagging along with my older sisters and my brother, never realizing maybe they didn't - or their significant others didn't - want me along. Or thought I was a brat.  I didn't try to be.  You see, my siblings were my everything, I wanted to keep them just for me.

As I got older, they married and started their own families, nephews and nieces came along and I was so excited when each one of them were born.  They're such amazing kids and I am terrifically proud of each one  of them.  So much so that when my siblings call me by their daughters names (and each one of them does this) I am NEVER offended and never hurt for I know their children are very special to them. In fact, I'm almost honored.

As I'm getting older, they are too.  They have a decade up on me - some have close to two decades!  With the age difference, it's becoming a reality that...I... I will be the last one left.  Alone.   The only one of us to bury my parents as well as my 5 siblings.  I'm the one who will be left behind, again.  One day, it'll just be me. No one to remember the rest with.  

Sometimes I'm sad that I'll be alone.  Sometimes I'm even a little angry.  It's not  fair but, then again, what is fair?  Life isn't fair.   Car accidents aren't fair.  Multiple Sclerosis is not fair.  Dementia is not fair.  Cancer is not fair.  Life.  The thing about life is that it goes on. Life goes on.  Every. Single. Time.  It does not stop and there are no breaks. Not for #1.  Not for #6.  Not for any in between.