Twelve years. An even dozen years ago. In some ways it was a lifetime ago. Most days it feels as if it went by in the blink of an eye. There are many people that weren’t in my life back then that are my whole world now. The last decade of my life seems to have flown by like a dream. A very good dream.
Laura Gail and I were wed on March 25, 2012. A Sunday. The small wedding chapel was decked in white. Our family, and friends, were there. I waited at the front of the chapel with the preacher as the doors opened and the music began. Laura, escorted by her sons, Jon and Cody, almost tripped coming in, but she recovered without my even noticing. She told me about it later. I was too awed by her as she floated towards me. She was a beautiful bride. My bride. I was proud, happy, and scared all rolled up in the same emotion. Typical nervous groom. The preacher said some stuff that I can’t recount, because when he said “Kevin, WILL you…” all that went through my head was “WILL you?! I thought it was supposed to be DO you…! What do I say?! Do I say ‘I will’? Or do I say “I do”? The Grammar Police were banging on my mental door, demanding a decision, and I had scant time to think about it. So, when he finished that sentence, a lifetime later, I reasoned in my head that he’d said, “WILL you” so I must respond with “I WILL”, despite hundreds of generations of people saying, “I do” and the fact that THAT’S JUST WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY. Nope. I went with “I Will”. My eyes betrayed my agony to Laura Gail, and she saved me. When asked the age-old question of “Will you” she also responded with “I Will”. Thus began her (so far) twelve-year journey of trying to keep me from making an ass out of myself. I’m sure it’s not been easy for her, but she does it like a champ.
I don’t deserve this woman. She’s too good for me. Definitely above my pay grade. I’ve been an idiot at times. I’ve made bad decisions that would have justified her leaving me in her past. I’m not the good guy in all of my stories. But she’s still here. She still loves me. She’s picked me up, dusted me off and made me want to be a better man. She didn’t have to, but she chose to. She decided to be with me through all of life’s up and downs, and I’m just smart enough to do the same. I got that part right.
Commitment isn’t just for mental patients. We married people do it too. We’re crazy enough to believe that loving each other means sharing everything about ourselves. Our failures. Our accomplishments. Our wealth. Our poverty. Our joy. Our depression. Accepting it all, without following through with the urge to smother them with a pillow when they snore, is what love is all about. You even find the snoring kinda cute, later. Much later. Romance is fun. Waiting to use the bathroom, not so much. Having someone bring you a hot cup of coffee without asking is wonderful. Being told “you know where the kitchen is” when you’re too lazy to get out of the recliner is a more realistic expectation. Love is real like that.
I have no real advice to people who are contemplating marriage. I know nothing about women. I’m honestly confused about why she lets me hang out with her, even after twelve years. About the only thing I think I’ve figured out is that you can’t really get inside a woman’s head and figure her out. So don’t try. Appreciate, and accept, the person she is. Put her on a pedestal in your heart. Give her what she needs. A man to stand beside her, to listen to her, and endure both the joys and sufferings of life together, is what you are. Be that. It’s all I try to do. For the rest of my life, I Will.
God bless y’all.
Rolling Stones 