When Alex and I were engaged the first thing we had to do was get a marriage license. We were so hopelessly in love and were excited about the task. With stars in our eyes, we headed down to the courthouse. To get to the right place, we had to walk down a very constricting hallway. The paint was drab, the tile devoid of color and the employees were just the same. There was a mix of smells. I remember stale cigarette smoke, harsh cleaning products, and cynicism, lots of cynicism; the place was rank with it. But no matter how depressing the place was, I and my husband-to-be were not phased by it. We were resolute in our decision to marry and with giddy smiles announced, "We would like to get a marriage license". The less than friendly government worker behind the counter handed us the necessary paperwork and directed us to a waiting area which was nothing more than a few broken chairs seemingly from the 1960's. Without hesitation, we filled out the paperwork and handed it back to this henchman of the state. She glared at us as our cloud of romance encircled her, I believe she choked on it, then stamped out papers and sent them to be processed.
Today Alex and I, now husband and wife of 8 years, walked down a very similar hallway. It had the same drab paint, the same colorless tile, and of course the same cynical smell. The reason for our visit had changed a bit though, we carried with us our signed divorce papers. This time the minion behind the desk was almost intolerable. She was an old woman, poorly dressed and missing a tooth in the front. She was tired of her job and I was tired for her. On this visit there was no more romance encircling us, just disappointment. We were no longer hopeless romantics we were just hopeless. We had come to the end. The woman sat there almost chiding us for having been so foolish to believe our marriage would last or at least that's how it seemed. After forking over the necessary dough, we were told to sit down and wait for our case number.
As we waited I looked down the hall at the pews resting along the wall in front of the courtrooms. There was couple after couple sitting together. Some of them were obviously there for the same reason we were; their body language conveyed that without question. But i saw one couple that I remember and will probably always remember. A very young couple; they both looked to be about 18. They were dressed in their Sunday best and by the looks of it, didn't have much money. They were there to be married. She had her arm tucked under his kind of like in the old days when a gentleman would offer his arm to a woman and she would gracefully accept. That's how she was holding onto him. Her head was rested on his shoulder and her other arm held tight to him as well. He leaned into her and rested his head atop hers. They were so happy. I saw it; the same romantic cloud, the same hopeless love, the same resolve. I wanted to warn them. I wanted to tell them that it's not all it's cracked up to be, to think it through, to turn and run for the hills. But then I was reminded of another couple very much like this one but without all the gooey love stuff.
The couple I am remembering were scheduled to be married on a Wednesday afternoon around 1 p.m. It was a very informal wedding. Heck, the groom had to convince his boss to let him off work early so he could attend! On the way to the wedding both the bride and groom admitted they weren't even sure that what they were doing was right. There were no clouds of romance, no lavish decorations, or long ceremonies. They were asked only one question, "Do you?". But they had a secret. They had what a lot of people don't have these days, commitment. After each answered the question with a, "yes", the couple started a life together that would last for 63 years. They went on to have three beautiful children, who grew up to give them 5 beautiful grand kids, and even one great grandchild. They built a life together that lasted until June 11, 2002 when the man died, his wife by his side holding his hand. She was always by his side, supporting and loving him, as she had learned to do over the years. Five years before his death, the man declared to his wife, "Mommy" (that's what he called her) "I never told you that I love you, well I do". And every day after that until he died at the age of 100, he kissed his wife and told her, "I love you."
With that in mind I kept my cynicism to myself and smiled at the sweet couple. Whispering a prayer of hope for them, I returned to my seat beside my soon to be ex-husband and began to think of the old couple who had lasted for so long, the couple with the 3 kids and the 5 grand kids of which I am one. That couple was Doc and Clara Bailey, my grandparents. They left a good legacy for me. An example of real love, the kind that lasts forever...and with it they also left me a little hope. (below: my grandparents on their wedding day. Pic 2 My grandparents on my wedding day 63 years later)
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Old Couple
Labels:
cynicism,
divorce,
divorce court,
hope,
joy,
lost love,
marriage,
older generation,
romantics,
sadness,
wedding,
young love
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