HOW CAN IT BE 51 YEARS?

It wasn’t a fairytale beginning, (how could it be?) since my father had died the year before; my uncle was walking me down the aisle to meet my soon-to-be husband. But I do remember thinking, as I stood under the Chuppah, fairytale beginning or not, that someday, Bruce and I will be married 5 years, 10 years, 15 years, and that seemed so far in the future, I could imagine nothing more. I envisioned children, vaguely saw a home, white picket fence or not, a place where we would grow as a family. I was excited to begin a life, with the love of my life, and “living happily ever after” was floating around me like the diaphanous layers of my dress and veil.

So how can it be that we are now married 51 years, have raised two beautiful daughters, who have wonderful families of their own, and we still feel the warm sensation of loving each other dearly? Fifteen years, in the snap of a finger, became 51. Our grandchildren are all teenagers, three will be in college within the next few years. I have no ability to wrap my head around the passage of time, but I can say that there is something daunting about acknowledging the passage as even our daughters and sons-in-law are watching their children spread their wings, ready to fly.

Many of you know that I met Bruce when I was merely 14 years old, and he had just turned 16. Both my mother, and his father, told us, as young as we were, that we had met our future spouse. What they saw in us, I cannot be certain, but prescient as they were, I would like to believe it was in our eyes as we spoke of each other.

What nobody knew was how challenging our lives would become when I entered the terrifying world of bowel issues. “Til death do us part,” took on significant meaning more than once, and Bruce was always by my side, always holding my hand, always my champion and my advocate. Trips to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, hospitals in New York, emergency rooms, waiting rooms while I was in the operating rooms, calls to our family and friends, maintaining his law practice all the while so as not to let down his clients and employees, he did it all. When I was in the hospital, he was there two, and sometimes three times a day.

The day I returned from the hospital following my ileostomy, I cried as I saw my reflection after my shower, (my clear pouch covering half of my right leg filled and visible) and fell to the floor in the bathroom. I felt terribly disfigured, and flawed, irreparably scarred. Bruce held me, told me he was “in awe” of my bravery, and helped me dress in a nightgown.

He has never let me down! I hope never to let him down. We appreciate our gift of each other. And 51 years after that young bride walked down the aisle to her own Prince Charming, this senior citizen gratefully acknowledges that although there are no real fairytales, this is what “living happily ever after” really looks like.