60 Years to Think About It

When my wife and I were engaged, we got into an argument and, partially joking, I made the comment, “What am I getting myself into?” Without missing a beat, she replied, “Well, you have the next 60 years to think about it.” We both laughed and the argument dissipated.

When my paternal grandmother passed away, which happened before my wife and I met, my grandfather arrived to the viewing in a suit, as is appropriate, especially for someone of his generation. My aunt, my uncle’s wife, commented, “You look very nice, Dad.” “I haven’t had to pick out my own clothes in 60 years,” my grandfather responded.

I looked up to my grandparents very much. They were a beacon of morality, generosity, kindness, and faithfulness. I am not sure that a day went by when they did not bicker with or nag at each other about something, but I never once doubted that they loved each other or that they would be together ‘for as long as they both would live,’ as the saying goes.

Ravy knew this. She knew my grandfather and she knew about my grandmother and how much they meant to each other and to me. “You’ve got the next 60 years to think about it” was her way of saying that she and I were and are in this for the long haul, no matter how difficult it may be at times.

Marriage is a choice. It is a decision. It is a decision made and remade daily, to continue on with each other, in spite of each other, and for each other. It is a commitment precisely because it is difficult. Easy things do not need commitments or dedication. They are easy, after all.

Here’s to another 51 years, my dear, come what may.

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