Thirty Years...

A lot can happen in thirty years.  Babies are born, children turn into adults, loved ones pass away, friends move, hair turns grey, young lovers become husband and wife, friends and relatives are suddenly parents and then grandparents, Christmas cards are exchanged, birthdays and anniversaries are remembered, reunions are treasured, vacations are enjoyed, graduations are celebrated, and we wonder where the time went.

Lance and I will be married thirty years this month.

When I was a kid, I couldn't imagine spending a lifetime with one person.  Now I can't imagine spending it without that one person.  Funny how things can change.

I firmly believe Lance and I were destined to meet and marry.

We did not know each other as kids, didn't grow up in the same town, or even live anywhere remotely close to each other. Lance grew up in McHenry, Illinois - I grew up in Merrill, Wisconsin.  He was on his high school swim team.  I was a self-taught swimmer..  He lived in a suburb of Chicago.  I lived in a central Wisconsin small town.  He went on family trips to Colorado.  My family never left the state of Wisconsin.  Our lives were very different.

In his Junior year of high school, Lance's parents bought a Sears Catalog store in Cornell, Wisconsin.  We didn't know it, but our lives were about to become much closer. Because of the move to Cornell, Lance ended up going to college in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.  And where did I graduate college from?  You got it - the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire.  Ah-ha you say - the two of you met in college.  Nope, but we did have some mutual acquaintances. 

After graduation, I became an assistant manager with K-Mart; Lance took a job as an assistant manager with Shopko.  As luck - or fate - would have it, we both ended up in Mitchell, South Dakota.  And Lance's roommate knew my roommate.  (You know where this is going, don't you?)  One night, when Lynette and I were out dancing we ran into the two guys at the local bowling alley / bar / dance club.  She was sure Lance and I would hit it off since we had something in common - we were both from Wisconsin!  Turns out, we had more in common than just the state from which we graduated high school.

Lance and I dated for just under a year while we lived in Mitchell.  Then Lance quit his job and moved to Minneapolis to pursue his MBA and a new job in a new field.  I was transferred by K-Mart to Huron, South Dakota and we did the long distance dating thing for a while.  Eventually, I  saved enough money to live on until I could find a new job, got a ring on my finger, and moved to the Twin Cities.  We were married the year we both turned twenty-five; right according to my life plan.  (Funny how that worked out.)

By then, Lance's parents had moved again.  Now they lived less than twenty miles from my home town - coincidence or fate still at work?  I remember Lance's parents sitting me down and asking me if I knew what I was getting myself into with Lance.  Did I really want to marry their son?  Yes, I did.

Have we had a fairy tale marriage?  Of course not - we live in real life. 

Ups and downs?  Yup, but we knew that we would going in. 

In sickness and in health?  My ruptured appendix and Lance's diverticulitis - I think we have that covered.

For better and for worse?  We have been lucky - the better have always outweighed the worse.

Til death do us part?  That is the plan.

I have now spent more years of my life being married than single.  That is a strange concept.  But, it is also a comforting one.  I love that because of our commitment to each other we have brought a beautiful, smart, strong, compassionate daughter into this world.   I love that we each have someone to share our dreams with - and someone who will encourage the other to follow those dreams.  I love that we push each other to do more than we believe we are capable of.  I love that we can still have adventures together.  I love that we have different strengths and balance each other out.  I love that Lance still wants to dance with me and sing silly little songs to me.  I love that my subconscious humming and wine induced chatter makes him smile.  I love that Lance has a soft spot for our dog Ellie. I love the way his face lights up when he sees me or Kaitlyn.  I love the naughty boy look he gets when he is teasing me.  I love that he doesn't laugh at me when I stop to watch "The Lawrence Welk Show" on PBS.  I love that my friends are his friends - and vice versa. I love that we both think the other has hardly aged since we were married. And I love that, even though we both can annoy each other at times, we have learned to move on - forgive - and forget.  I can't imagine any other life than the one I am fortunate enough to have.

Remembering the past thirty years brings thoughts of the future and begs the question:  Am I looking forward to spending the next umpteen years with my husband and best friend?  As they say in Minnesota....you betcha!

Til We Meet Again...

My friend and co-worker died this past weekend as a result of a senseless car accident.  Brandon was only thirty-one years old, a good friend (much like a little brother) with a very kind heart in a somewhat rough exterior.  He was taken away from us much too soon, but I count myself lucky to have crossed paths with him.  Brandon's untimely death was hitting me quite hard.  I found myself tearing up at random times and could not imagine how I would cope when I enterd our shared office Monday morning and didn't see his smiling face or hear him say, "How was your weekend, Jules?".  Some tough weeks and months are ahead for all of us who worked with him.

I am fifty-five years old, so I have seen my fair share of death. 

I barely remember my grandparents, most of them passing while I was just a young girl.  My Grandma Muelver died while I was in college and honestly, I was not that close with her.  I do recall driving back for her funeral in the middle of a Wisconsin winter, my tire blowing out while I was going fifty-five on the freeway, a good Samaritan stopping to help me change it, missing the funeral, and getting to my aunt's house just in time to see my relatives and shed some tears while giving and receiving hugs of condolence.  (No cell phones back then, so no way to let anyone know what was going on.)

The summer I was pregnant with Kaitlyn we attended three funerals - Lance's paternal grandfather, his maternal grandmother and my father.  Talk about a tough summer!  The thing is, while unexpected and extremely sad, all three had lived a long and full life.  (They were all well into their late seventies, early eighties.)  My biggest regret is that none of them got to meet our daughter Kaitlyn.  They would have loved her.

My mother has been gone for sixteen years.  We were vacationing in Northern Wisconsin and had rented a three bedroom cabin so my mom could enjoy time on the lake with us when we got the news.  Mom had been hospitalized the week before our vacation with pneumonia.  We were hoping we could get her out for a day or so to recuperate with us, as she was supposed to be released from the hospital mid week.  The night before she was to go home, she died in her sleep.  It was a very difficult time and hard to reconcile.  She was only sixty-nine.  Kaitlyn couldn't understand why her Grandma was gone and worried that other loved ones would leave her, too.  How do you explain death to a five year old with out scaring her?

My sister Linda died two years ago after an eighteen month battle with cancer and Lance's brother Lorin died unexpectedly this year shortly after New Years. And they are just the tip of the iceberg. Each loss takes away a little part of us, as we think about all the friends and family we have lost throughout the years.

So, why am I writing this? 

Not to depress anyone or to preach a message some are not ready to hear. 

Part of this writing is a way to help me work out my sadness over the most recent death that has become a part of my life.  It is therapeutic for me (kind of like washing down Brandon's desk Monday morning gave me a little closure and acceptance). I am reminded that life is fragile and we should take the time to tell our friends and family how much they mean to us...every day.

I believe that our time here on earth is part of a longer journey and we will see all our loved ones again in heaven.  I like to think that Brandon and Lorin have run across each other and are talking about hunting.  I picture my parents, aunts and uncles gathered around a table playing Royal Rummy.  I believe Roy and Jeff are playing in a gospel band, together again, up in heaven.  I see Linda and Karen overseeing field trips for all the children who left this earth at a young age.  I believe they are all watching over us and want us to remember them fondly, but also want us to get on with living.

So to Brandon and everyone else we have lost - thank you for being a part of our lives.  They would not have been the same without you.

Farewell for now...'til we meet again.