on our eighth wedding anniversary

Today my wife and I celebrate the eighth anniversary of our wedding. Last year on this date I wrote a love letter to Lisa on this blog. I don’t usually try to one-up myself. I want to grow and improve, but I think each new experience should be embraced on its own merits. It’s natural to compare today to yesterday, this year to last year, second kid to first kid, but each one is unique, and comparisons only go so far to tell us what things are really about.

So, I don’t intend to try and best last year’s note. Instead I want to acknowledge this day for what it is. A celebration of another wonderful, challenging, growth-filled year. I knew 12 months ago this year would bring change, challenges, and surprises. It did. It’s been one of the hardest years we’ve faced, and one of the best. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times? Cliché, but fitting.

Thinking of our wedding, I recall a moment during our reception. We were married in Lisa’s hometown of New York City in June 2002. Many arrangements were already made before September 11, 2001, and we had no intention of changing our plans. Most of our guests were not from New York, and many had never been there, so we decided to have our reception on a boat circling Manhattan. It afforded the best possible views of the city, including a sobering moment as we glided past the site of the World Trade Center attack. Some might think such a stark reminder of recent, horrible tragedy would be the last thing you’d want while celebrating your wedding. For me, though, the only honest way to cope with loss is to face it. Sadness is a part of life. We lose things we love. On Sept 11, 2001, nine months before we were married, we all lost a measure of our innocence. For some that loss was deep and acute: losing a family member, a loved one, or a friend. For others it was remote and abstract, but still painful. Looking at the hole in the city where the towers had stood, still fresh with twisted metal not yet repaired or removed, was a reminder that there will be dark times. The best we can do is weather them together, and look ahead to another day. Each year is a new opportunity. Every day a little death, and every day, rebirth.

So, we begin another year. Our ninth year married, our 17th as a couple. This year we’ve had our own minor tragedies, and triumphs. I know next year will be the same. I am hopeful the bright spots will outnumber and outweigh the dark ones. Whatever comes, we will face it together, arm in arm, with our children beside us.

I love you, Lisa. Happy anniversary.

Tagged as: anniversary, love, marriage