Although I'm looking very much forward to seeing B tomorrow morning after a week of his working nights, the big weekend ahead will actually be my parents'.
Mom and Dad will be celebrating both Father's Day and their thirtieth anniversary while they're at the beach this week. (And Flag Day on Saturday if they can muster up the enthusiasm for three holidays in as many days.)
A very happy Father's Day to my fantastic dad, who has been all I could have asked for and more during my first year of marriage - and always. He is the giver of sound advice, the voice of reason, the keeper of secrets, the finder of good directions, the translator of estrogen-speak, the practical side of our family. Wish I could be there to tell him in person on Sunday!
On the 17th, I'll be sending a huge
happy anniversary to my amazing parents. They were married three months after their first date and have been getting to know each other, on a daily basis, ever since.
In thirty years, they have lived on two continents and in four states, raised two children and two dogs, gained a son-in-law, lost three parents, conquered cancer, survived their daughter's wedding and awkward adolesence, seen (some of) the world and proved that there is such a thing as a happy ending. It just happens to be a choice that happens every day.
The most accurate way I could sum up their marriage is to tell you that they
genuinely prefer one another's company.
Theirs is a remarkable example of a truly happy marriage. I feel so privileged to have grown up in our home; now that I'm gone it feels wonderful to know they still have their very best friend keeping them company. (And they are probably having more fun now than they ever were!)
At a friend's wedding just a few months before I got engaged, while B was far away enjoying the wonders of NASCAR, Dad and I happened upon the topic of marriage. He was probably testing the waters a little bit in his very stealthy, Dad-like way. I still can't relay this story in person without tearing up, so I don't believe I've ever told my mom.
To me, there wasn't enough time in a week to spend with Bradley. I found him even more funny and thoughtful and kind and endearing every time we were together. I could not pull into his driveway or answer his calls soon enough. It seemed, I said to Dad, that the very best thing about marriage would be just a chance to
be together more. To hang out all the time. Was that a childish perspective?
In all of his widsom, and twenty-eight years into his relationship with mom, my dad told me that he had never once tired of "just hanging out" with my mom. "There might be times where I don't want to be with
anyone, where a day has just been too much and I need to shut the door and close my eyes for a moment. But there has
never been a moment when I didn't want to spend time with your mother," he said.
She was across the reception, chatting in her typically energetic way with another group of wedding guests. I got a quick kiss on the forehead before Dad stole her away for a dance and I was left to dab my eyes and count my blessings.
"Mo" and Dad, I love you both so much - keep on dancing! (I'm getting over the embarassment day by day...not that it ever stopped you!)
(If you can't dance at the party you paid for, where can you dance?)
P.S. Neither of you could have picked a better partner!
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