My mom’s casual comment to me years ago has always stuck with me.  She said she had been with Dad longer than she had been with her parents.  I never understood why that would matter because, aren’t our parents with us always? Who cares which one has more impact on your life? You never quit being a daughter or a son, right?  And then it became apparent as to how deeply a spouse affects you.  When Dad died in 1994, we tried to keep Mom entertained and worry-free, we always fell short.  Her smiles were pasted on and she had an emptiness in her laughter.  One day while talking to my sister about how we could make Mom happy again, Donna explained it quite succinctly. She said, “Shelley, don’t you realize we can never fill the void left when Dad died?”  Bam.  There it was.  It was more than a total investment in Mom’s time, it was an investment in her heart. It had nothing to do with calendar years.

July 27, 2010 will be the 25th wedding anniversary for me and Mike. I’ve been his wife longer than I was with Mom and Dad.  Bam.  There it is.  I’ve said it now too.  It has nothing to do with the years on the calendar, but everything to do with our hearts.

     Thankfully, we’ve changed and, thankfully, we’ve stayed the same.  I would hope that I’m not the same girl I was 25 years ago.  But, in the same breath I’ll say that I hope I’m still that girl he married 25 years ago.  I hope I’m still trying to find my way, but still sure of where I want to go.  I hope I’m still loving and playful but still focused.  I hope I’m still willing to take on new ways of thinking, but still the girl with the same core values and beliefs.

     Mike and I didn’t arrive at the 25-year mark in our marriage without emotional bumps and bruises. We’ve hurt each other & we’ve disappointed each other. I’m sure I hurt and disappointed my parents 1 or 2 times also. But, as with our parents, and with our spouses, we are “family” and we move forward,  remembering why we spend our time as one. 

     Any regrets? Absolutely.  Life isn’t scripted.  Don’t dwell and, for the love of God, don’t think you are perfect. Marriage isn’t a contest or a race.

     If we had to “see our lives flash before our eyes”, my wish is that we get to see the good and the bad. Both are equally etched in my heart. The nervous first kiss, the realization that this is “the one”, children born, children no longer with us, job promotions, buying homes, friends, debt, vacations, holidays, parents no longer with us, watching your daughters in sports, the effects of MS and watching one child walk across the stage and 3 weeks later, walk down an aisle and slip out of your grasp.

     We started out in Dutch’s house in Martinsburg with our whole lives ahead of us. We wanted children, lots of them, because we shared a vision of  what our parents were to us. We come from similar backgrounds. While my family isn’t  agricultural, Mike and I are products of parents who were always married to each other and raised a Catholic family of 4.   That’s all we knew. We set forth making it work.  

     My dad was humorous.  One of the funniest people I knew. His sarcasm was impeccable. It wasn’t biting humor but it always had a kick. When asked how long he and Mom had been married, with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, he’d always say, “I was born married.”   The hook of the  joke was that it could be a dig on Mom as if life was dragging on.  He was in on the joke because he knew that we knew that he couldn’t live without her—nor would he want to!     

     That’s how I hope Mike feels.  That’s how I feel.  Mike has been too good to me, Meghan and Madison. He’s provided well, he’s come home to us every night, he’s fed babies bottles when I was too sleepy to hold my head up, he’s held their hands when they were scared, he’s rescued me when I’ve gotten stuck in snow at 4am on the way to work. He’s learned hobbies and discovered new interests. He’s mentored our girls with his faith.  He’s worked on school projects and showed them what it means to be analytical. He’s painted any wall that I thought should change color. He’s moved furniture at the spur of the moment when I thought “something just looked out of balance”. He’s taught our daughters to ride bikes, made them their special meals, bought feminine products for them when they really needed them and blushed when he realized how grown up they are getting.  He’s defended our daughters, praised them, dressed them, put their hair in ponytails and said “goodbye” to them each morning at the babysitter’s. I’ve seen him carry his father-in-law to bed at the end of his life,  I’ve seen him comfort his dying mother-in-law and I’ve seen him cry when he realized he’d never see them again.  And for me, Mike has held my hand when words weren’t needed and he’s been proud of me in triumph and defeat. 

     It goes both ways, you know. Mike has been with me longer than he was with his parents. Can I say I’ve been the spouse to him that he’s been to me? I pray he feels the same.  25 years is a long time. That’s a whole lot of living and growing. I want us to be the same wide-eyed kids that got married July 27, 1985.  I’m hoping we still want to take on new things together and live in wonderment of all around us.  I’m hoping that young couple from 1985 is still alive inside us to remind us that it’s good to be innocent and light-hearted and proud of all the experiences and all the people along the way that got us where we are today.

     And if we could talk to those two kids from 1985, I’d like to tell them that they’re going to do okay.  I’d like to thank them for believing in each other.  The old Mike and Shelley could tell them that it’s going to be a bumpy ride.  We could also remind them that they’re going to change a little after 25 years, but they won’t be unrecognizable. We can still see them clearly.

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