We Made It!

Each day for a week I would say to Cindy: “Do you know what Monday is?” As with any type of interrogation, no matter how benign, she did not nor could not respond, but that’s OK. My purpose was to continually remind her that Monday would be our thirtieth wedding anniversary.

Over the past few years I questioned whether we would make it to our thirtieth. Even this past week I had a few pauses, like when Cindy confided she could no longer taste or the way she seems less stable on her feet each day. Yet I kept reminding her each day about our thirtieth anniversary with faith, if not complete confidence, that we would make it.

The thirtieth has been a big deal to me ever since it became clear that reaching our fiftieth wedding anniversary together was out of the question. In a way, I felt like Cindy and I needed to atone for what happened on my parent’s fiftieth.

The five sons put on a big celebration for Mom and Pop’s fiftieth.We hosted a party at the Norfolk Coon Club with many family members and townsfolk in attendance. However, there was one notable absence from the big celebration: my Mom. She declined to go, claiming not to feel well.

Only in years since then did I realize what Mom’s claim about not feeling well was all about. She already exhibited some dementia symptoms at the time; along with those symptoms comes the inclination to socially withdraw. Mom was not a social butterfly to begin with; I’m sure the thought of a big gathering of people intimidated her at a time when she felt so vulnerable. Nevertheless, we did our best to throw a big celebration without one of the two guests of honor.

Our thirtieth celebration could not have provided a bigger contrast. True, our son Noah cooked an anniversary breakfast for us, the corollary to us sons throwing the big shindig for our parent’s fiftieth. A friend also sent us flowers. Outside of that, Cindy and I spent much of the day the same way we spend each day, sitting on the porch together, me playing guitar or reading an Oz book to her.

I once entertained the idea of a pedicab ride to a restaurant for our thirtieth, but the rainy day prevented an excursion out of town, while neither of Norfolk’s two restaurants were open on Monday. Yet we did, after all, find ways to make our thirtieth special. In the evening we looked at our wedding album and I read excerpts from a couple of Cindy’s journals.

One of the journals was simply filled with inspiring quotes and passages, which I may disseminate on here some day, particularly the passage Cindy wrote herself about Norfolk. The other was the journal she kept for our Continental Divide Trail hike, which occurred the year before we got married. We were engaged for that 3,000 mile journey yet she still married me afterwards. I will continue to read excerpts from this journal during the evenings ahead, a reminder of one of our great journeys together.

Usually I tuck Cindy in for bed around 10:00 pm and then go in the attic for some alone time. For our anniversary evening I climbed into bed after tucking Cindy in, remaining close to her as I reflected on some of the notable events of our lives together.

One notable event came early on that day. Upon waking Cindy up I exclaimed: “It’s our thirtieth wedding anniversary today.” To my somewhat surprise Cindy replied:

“I know.”