“The most wonderful of all things in life, I believe, is the discovery of another human being with whom one's relationship has a growing depth, beauty, and joy as the years increase. This inner progressiveness of love between two human beings is a most marvelous thing; it cannot be found by looking for it or by passionately wishing for it. It is a sort of divine accident, and the most wonderful of all things in life.” - Hugh Walpole, Sr.
A year ago we stood together and witnessed a union. A civil union ceremony between two people who had already committed themselves to each other, who 17 years prior had made the decision to walk through life together, as one.
Today is their anniversary.
There’s something wonderful about saying that, about acknowledging a particular day that means so much to them. A day that stands out apart from all the other days on the calendar. A day to circle with a big red pen. A day to raise a glass of the very best champagne. There’s something wonderful about being able to buy a Happy Anniversary card to send to someone who means so much to me.
A year ago I wrote this essay for them.
We used to call him Bumby. I’m not sure where the name came from, but he was Bumby as far back as I can remember. Bumby was the baby, the smallest one in all the early family photos when we all wore matching outfits and lined up in a row, from oldest to youngest, tallest to shortest. He was cute, with big dimples and a head full of brown tussled hair. With only 4 years difference from oldest to youngest, we grew up hanging out together swimming, riding bikes and doing puppet shows in the theatre our “Santa” Dad had made for us one Christmas.
I found myself thinking back this morning as I hung up the phone with him. We were checking in around my Mom whom my brother has taken it upon himself to lovingly care for during these first few weeks after my Dad’s passing. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days. It’s funny how a death will do that to you. I find myself thinking back, reminiscing, grateful for the time and experiences that made up our life together.
The week before my Dad passed away, we were back in New Jersey. While visiting my family was clearly a priority, the trip was scheduled around a celebration, a civil union ceremony for my brother and his partner. In 2006, the state of New Jersey took a progressive stand and voted to allow civil unions. At the time, I remember having a conversation with him and encouraging him to have one, thinking it would be a wonderful way to celebrate and honor the relationship he has had with his partner of 17 years. Of course they didn’t need it. They were already committed. They, like many gay and lesbian couples, did not need the government to sanction something they already held in their hearts. Still, there was something special about being able to stand in front of friends and family and make that commitment public. And after all, it would be fun and a great excuse for the extended family to get together.
And it was. But it was also so much more. It was two wonderful people promising to be there for each other, through thick and thin, good and bad and yes, sickness and health. It was a remarkable end of a journey for my parents, who reacted with fear when they first realized that their son was somehow different and now embraced not only their son but the man he had chosen. It was an outpouring of support from the town in which they live and raise their daughter, a ceremony celebrated by the mayor and witnessed by a multitude of colleagues and friends who make up their community. It was a day of celebration, of partnerships, family and love. It was the best day of my brother’s life. And it was, as it turns out, the last day we would all be together.
I’m so glad we had the chance.
Happy Anniversary guys, and many more.