Vows Fulfilled

Copyright © 2022

By Ralph F. Couey

Christmas 2022 was a curious sort of event for us.  No visitors, and our only link to family was electronic.  Both Cheryl and I had some stressful days, she doing surgery, and myself at work dealing with a powerful Pacific storm that caused all kinds of havoc across the state.  And a dead rat that chose to expire and deteriorate beneath the deckplates of my workstation. 

I had two extra days off this past week while contractors were installing the rest of the new windows.  All the leaky, drafty jalousies are gone, save one.  Our home is as energy efficient as its ever been in its 60-plus year lifespan.  We didn't put much effort in decorating this year.  We bought a new artificial tree and had it lit almost every evening.  Cheryl made sure it was on when I returned home at work, a wonderful site at oh-dark-thirty.  But the rest of the ornaments stayed in their boxes.  With everything else going on, it was just too hard.

We've been watching, fascinated as the storms of December have swept across the country.  We had our share of snow yards deep in the mainland, and for those of you who were digging your way out, we felt your pain.  Here, it's winter, the time of year when powerful storms sweep out of the North Pacific dumping feet of rain blown by dangerous winds.  Even when the storms don't make it here, their effect is felt in enormous surges of waves that batter the north and east shores of our islands.  I remember the first time I witnessed 50-foot waves crashing onto a beach.  I was speechless; in awe of the ocean's power.  But it's also the time of year when the humidity is notably lower, and the temperatures become very pleasant.  In terms of comfort, it is the most wonderful time of the year.

The one thing about Christmas, the one universal truth is that people are better to each other.  Almost everyone has a smile and cheerful word, and kindness and generosity emerges from wherever it hides during the rest of the year.  The season brings out the best in people, especially in their personal relationships.  Families gather to share, to eat, to talk and laugh.  They catch up on everything that has happened during their time apart.  And if they can keep their politics firmly locked away, it can be a joyous and memorable time.

Christmas is a season of joy, but it can also be a time of reflection.  In the mainland, I would sit by the window and watch as the snow fell and think deep thoughts, or no thoughts at all.  The snowfall has been replaced by the rhythm of the surf as it glides across the sand.  But the solace hasn't changed.

The Christmas cards Cheryl and I gave each other were amazingly similar in sentiments.  For the past few months, we've made a point to spend time together.  Our schedules oppose each other, so that time is limited.  But we seek each other's presence in a way we've never done before.  And we don't have to necessarily have to be doing anything.  We find peace in sharing the couch while we watch whatever happens to be streaming.  Being together, whether at home or shopping, sharing the occasional sunset at Waikiki, is the most important.  The common thread is the realization that we are getting older, and as the years mount up the chances that one of us could be taken unexpectedly I think haunts us both.  Yes, we're co-dependent.  I joke that without her, I couldn't even find matching socks.  But the truth is that she is absolutely essential to my life, my happiness, even my sanity.  She handles our finances, a part of our lives that is an absolute mystery to me.  But just her absence...that's a sadness painful to contemplate.  

She calls me her rock, that I help keep her steady during her struggles with stress and frustration.  She says I still make her laugh, which is good because I love her smile.  

Neither one of us are able to contemplate a life without each other, which is why we've chosen to cherish the time we have now, and not to take it, or each other for granted.  I suppose this is the normal course of a marriage as the years pass.  Mortality becomes a very tangible thing.  I read sometimes about elderly couples (definition of elderly: Anyone older than me) who pass from natural causes within hours of each other.  No one can schedule that, and since our lives belong to God and not us, there's no desire or purpose to arrange that.  Still, there's a kind of emotional justice in that, never having to live alone and apart from that person who has been the sun, the sky, and the stars to us. 

Years ago, I was involved on the periphery of the drive to establish the Flight 93 Memorial outside of Shanksville, PA.  I was able to interact with some of the family members of those who lost their lives in what turned out to be the first strike in the War on Terror.  We spoke about that day, how sudden that loss was.  I was told that they learned that there are no normal goodbyes because events occur without warning.  One of them told of an argument between those two spouses on the morning one of them got on one of those doomed aircraft.  I was looked at through eyes reflecting a pain of loss and guilt.  "Never part from each other with words of anger.  You might never be able to take them back."  That has stuck with me, the fragility of human life against the exigencies of life.  

So, in the years we have left, we will cherish each other.  We will spend as much time together as our busy days permit us.  We are God's gifts to each other, and we will honor those gifts. We've been through the richer and poorer, the sickness and health (mostly me), good times and bad, surviving it all.  So there's only one promise left.

Until death do us part.