“Can you believe it’s been 35 years, and we still enjoy each other’s company?!” Debra has been wont to comment lately.
“Less so each time you say that” is my mock-irritated reply. But I have to admit that it is pretty remarkable, especially since the last of those years culminated in a ten-day confinement in a small London apartment while we slowly recovered from COVID.
Thirty-five years ago today, Debra and I stood in a rustic Quaker meeting house in New Jersey and recited vows to each other. There is no clergy at a Quaker wedding; it is the collective declaration of the people who are present — represented by their signatures on a large certificate — that makes the marriage official.
That certificate still hangs on our living room wall. As the years have passed, fewer and fewer of the people who signed it are still around to see what became of the young couple whose vows they affirmed. Not all of the intervening years have been pleasant; there were painful periods that sometimes raised doubts about whether our relationship would survive. But like the caterpillar that turns to gunk inside a chrysalis and then somehow comes forth as a butterfly, our marriage has emerged as something light and lovely.
We do still enjoy each other’s company. We make each other laugh every day, no matter what either of us might be going through. We support each other completely, whether that means giving each other space to do the things we want to do individually, or coming together to do the things (home maintenance, anybody?) that neither of us wants to do alone.
Not many people know that we ran a business together for ten years. Our skills were perfectly complementary — Debra handling the aspects that required social skills, me handling the technical aspects that she had no patience for — and when meeting with clients, we were able to communicate solely by eye contact, since each of us knew exactly what the other was thinking. That business was dissolved long ago (Debra, for some reason, thought it would be preferable to do work that would actually earn us money), but we still have a natural knack for collaboration, whether it involves fostering kittens or opening our living room for monthly house concerts.
Our partnership runs so deep that neither of us knows what we’d do without the other. That has become more than a theoretical question, as our bodies age and our infirmities accumulate. But as much as we rely on each other for practical things, we depend even more on the deep and constant knowledge that there is someone who knows us, cares about us, and loves us more than anyone else on earth. To imagine living without that is impossible.
I’ve always resisted writing blog posts that deal solely with my personal life. Although each post may revolve around some experience I’ve had, I always make sure that there’s some larger point, some more universal insight, that makes it more than just a piece of writing about me.
This post will have to be the exception. I have no conclusion to draw, no advice to offer about why our relationship has lasted as long as it has and how yours can do the same. Our experience is strictly our own, and doesn’t lend itself to generalizations. But Debra, who is so often a supporting character in these posts, deserves for the world to know how much more than a supporting character she is in my life. I am incredibly fortunate. We are incredibly fortunate. May your life be equally blessed.
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