Happy Anniversary

Today is the wedding anniversary of my parents first marriage, the one which begot my brothers and me.

It is an amazing time. How long ago it seems, and yet all love shared is eternal. I claim the loving moments on behalf of my parents and me. All of the patience, all of the tenacity and care, all of the self-restraint and hopefulness, joy and happiness, detachment, forgiveness and perseverance. The made it almost 19 years – which in Hollywood is the equivalent of eons.

There is a glamour photo of my parents before they married and were on a date to go to a concert at the Ford Theatre in Detroit. This was the Glory time of Motown and they sparkled in their evening wear. It reminds me of a photo taken of me and my beloved husband on a whirlwind weekend in New York, shortly before we decided to marry and go forward in that way.

The difference was that my parents were very much younger and had both come from a more religious background with the war efforts and drafting for Vietnam on the hearts and minds of the young men and women. Short-story shorter, they were pregnant in a Jiffy, which served to bring in my older brother, solidify their intentions towards each other , and ease my father out of the draft. They were soon employed by a school in Michigan and they were off!

After the dust settled and they saw their plight ~ four children and a mortgage and not much time for much else and, oh yeah, who is this I pledged to spend my life with and how are we going to grow together? After nineteen years the threw in the towel. And who could blame them? Apparently I could and did, but that is now looked upon with fresh eyes as I consider where I am with my beloved Fernando and family.

I would not have had the impetus to dig as deeply as I have, in this life, if it had not been for my parents work in making their lives work to the best of their ability. If they hadn’t tried so hard, I may not have known that it is okay to try hard. If they hadn’t thrown in the towel, I wouldn’t have known that it is okay to quit. It is a balancing act, and they had the tools available to them at the time. Those tools have been refined. It is now the industrial revolution of tools when it comes to self-improvement, relationship advice and so on.

I am here to taste the smorgasbord of offerings when it comes to this period in history where there is a psychologist now on every block. How wonderful. For a while, my parent paid for my psychological counseling, when I was going to high school and then college – so committed they were to helping me through some of my rough edges. I tried to repay the debt by bringing my gifts to my family. This has served me well.


Now that they no longer celebrate this day in the same way, I still want to honor what they tried to do, what they did do for so long, by being myself. They have given me this chance and even if they don’t understand all of the ways I have taken the baton and continued the team spirit, since I don’t necessarily see a finish line nor do I use my feet to run, I know that they love me and want my best for me, as I do my own children. I have no idea what my children will choose to do with their lives, and this bonds me to the idea of my parents and all parents who must love and let go, love and let go, lovingly let go.

It is good practice for facing death! I choose to face myself today and realign where necessary so that death feels like the emergence into a non-physicality that is already in my possession. No sting. It is here for me now, this emergence into life without opposite and with out end. I will spend sometime here, now. Blessings to those who join me and to those who don’t at this moment.


Shanti Shanti Shanti (Peace, Peace, Peace)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s