I was married on October 7, 1995. These three May Babies stood by me.
One was born on the 6th, the other the 10th, and the third on the 20th. I love May because she gave me these three. I have a lump in my throat thinking about how these three have loved and sustained me through thick and thin, till death do us part.
Why do we require vows in marriage, yet friendship is lasting with no need of a promise, a signed document, or a ring on a finger?
Word of wisdom to my younger self…..marry your best friend.
John noted on a piece of paper that our date of separation was October 1, 2015; very conveniently days short of a 20 year anniversary.
My head still spins at this moment trying to understand what the hell happened and why.
Shortly after that day, the May Baby who is kneeling sent me an article from one of OUR favorite (if not our favorite) authors, Barbara Kingsolver. In the piece, titled “Stone Soup” Barbara writes:
A nonfunctioning marriage is a slow asphyxiation. It is waking up despised each morning, listening to the pulse of your own loneliness before the radio begins to blare its raucous gospel that you’re nothing if you aren’t loved. It is sharing your airless house with the threat of suicide or other kinds of violence, while the ghost that whispers, “Leave here and destroy your children,” has passed over every door and nailed it shut. Disassembling a marriage in these circumstances is as much fun as amputating your own gangrenous leg. You do it, if you can, to save a life–or two, or more.
Please consider reading her whole piece…perhaps here
Read it if you are struggling in marriage. Read it if you are devastated by divorce. Read it if you have a friend in need. Read it, with joy, if, like me, you know the next phase of life can be better than the one you have just passed from.
And most parents who have split apart, however painfully, still manage to maintain family continuity for their children, creating in many cases a boisterous phenomenon that Constance Ahrons in her book The Good Divorce calls the “binuclear family.” Call it what you will–when ex-spouses beat swords into plowshares and jump up and down at a soccer game together, it makes for happy kids.
Love, love, and love….it comes in many shapes and sizes, but it is, nonetheless, love.