FROM MY LIFE
Coming Full Circle In Love
They said the third time’s the charm, right? And… he sure was!
She straightened the soft fabric of her self-designed wedding dress around her legs as the car pulled up in front of the church.
This was her big day, the day she was to marry her love; her handsome man. A last glance in the mirror to check her hair and the flowers in it, and she was ready to get out. She never enjoyed being in the spotlight, but today was her day — their day — and she knew he would be at the altar, waiting for her.
Her mom, favorite aunt and cousins, as well as her dad, waited for her in front of the church. Her father looked handsome in his brown suit, and just like she had expected, he was happy to be in the spotlight. Today he was the proud dad, walking his daughter down the aisle, keeping up appearances.
Ever since she fell pregnant four years before, their relationship had been on rocky roads.
Once everyone but her and her father sat inside the church, the sounds of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” drifted towards them, announcing the start of the wedding ceremony.
Ever so slowly, they walked down the aisle and then she saw him, her future husband. His beautiful smile beckoned her towards him, and she had to restrain herself to not let go of her father’s arm and run to the man she was about to marry.
There was no veil to lift — her wedding dress wasn’t a traditional one — so her father turned, kissed her on her mouth, and turned to sit down next to her mom. For this day, they pretended to be friendly with each other. After all, it was their only daughter’s wedding day and the fact they had been divorced for more than a year was of insignificant value.
About half an hour later, the minister spoke the most important words: “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
They turned and left the church, more than ready to start their married life together.
A married life that ended two years and one month later.
The first time I got married in 1987, I married for love.
Or so I thought.
I was eighteen when I met him, twenty when I married him, and twenty-two when I divorced him. I really believed I loved him and he loved me, and that we were forever, but it was only years later I realized he had manipulated me.
Not long into our marriage, he frequently reminded me to be happy he was with me, as no one else would have wanted me. After all, I wasn’t a beauty, and I had a child.
I believed him.
He was the most important in our relationship — he always got what he wanted. I accepted it until I realized he fucked around with students. We had a sick three-month-old son, and I had to get him from a pub where he hung out with the students to take us to the hospital.
When he hit my daughter without reason (this turned into a child abuse court case for which he was convicted), it was the final straw.
I left him.
I never regretted it, and I never missed him.
Even though they had been living together for a couple of weeks, the night before their wedding day, she went to stay with her mother. Tradition said he had to pick her up from her parental home, hand her the flowers she will hold during the ceremony and then drive to the city hall with her. Church weddings weren’t legal here without also being married in the city hall.
Different country, different traditions.
The morning of their wedding day, she dressed in her long white satin skirt, a satin top and a long lace blazer. Her cousin did her hair — a bob style now — and make-up, and as the doorbell rang, she picked up her white hat with the yellow roses on the rim, and gently walked down the stairs to where he stood at the bottom, holding her bouquet of yellow roses.
They kissed briefly, hugged and posed for a couple of photos before he escorted her to the waiting car, opened the back door, helped her in and then got in on the other side.
He nervously wiped the sweat from his forehead and she pretended not to see.
Family waited at the city hall, and for a moment she had a déjà vu.
She was really doing this again.
They greeted their guests, posed for some pictures and then waited just inside the doors of the city hall for everyone to be seated inside the wedding room. The assistant official finally beckoned them to come inside, and their family and friends and the wedding official waited for them to be seated on the two chairs in front of the lectern.
They listened as their stories were told by the official — she had visited them at home a week or two before — and then finally gave each other a kiss after they had exchanged rings and were pronounced husband and wife.
Their status changed from married to divorced four years and eleven months later.
I got married for the second time in 1998.
I was fond of him, but can’t remember feeling love for him the way I felt ‘love’ for my first husband.
At first we were going to get married in December 1998, but because of some bureaucracy issues, we advanced the date to August 1998.
I vividly remember how six months into the marriage I was cleaning the house, and a thought crossed my mind: ‘I should never have married him’.
I pushed the thought away, afraid of it, and ashamed I had made a mistake again. I kept my unhappiness hidden for almost three years before some words slipped out and my mom realized how unhappy I was. That was when things changed for me — the fact my mom understood and supported me.
We separated in December 2001, and our divorce was final in July 2002.
Never again, she said.
Famous last words, right?
She had helped him to get dressed, and he was already waiting for her downstairs. He knew her dress was burgundy red, since his tie had the same color, but he hadn’t seen her dress yet. The first moment he lay eyes on her when she walked down the stairs, she could see the love and pride there.
No nerves.
Just a quiet satisfaction that this was what they both wanted.
Both their moms were present, as were their three children, the girlfriend of their son and the boyfriend of their oldest daughter. Their witnesses waited for them at the city hall.
They helped his elderly mom and the youngest to their car, and her mom took the other children to the city hall.
The photographers were there too. They walked with the photographers to take some snapshots in the beautiful park next to the city hall. He never smiled in photos; her smile couldn’t be broader.
A faux fur stole kept her shoulders warm, but this first November day wasn’t as cold as it could be at this time of year. The pale winter sun warmed her shoulders enough for photos without the stole.
They moved inside and took some more photos with the beautiful stained glass windows as a backdrop, as well as on the stairs. Then it was time for them to move to the wedding room, where the two witnesses waited. As a surprise, two of her colleagues also attended, wanting to share in their joy.
Half an hour later, she looked up at him, and her love for him burned deep in her soul. She saw it reflected in his eyes.
They were married.
Her third time.
His first.
They drove to a restaurant to celebrate — the moms, the kids and the witnesses. And them. If it wasn’t for their wedding clothes — her dark red evening dress, his black suit, white shirt and dark red tie — this could’ve been a regular evening out with family.
But it wasn’t; it was the start of something beautiful. No, it was the next level of something that started three and a half years before their wedding day.
Now, almost seventeen years later, they are still going strong.
I emailed with my husband from April 2002 and met him in person in June 2002.
By then we were deeply in love, but he wanted me to live my own life before entering a relationship again, as my divorce wasn’t even final yet.
I did.
We were in constant contact, but it was May 2003 before we were both ready to enter a relationship. In September 2003, we came out to his family as a couple and in December 2003, we celebrated the holidays together. In August 2004, I moved in with him and on 1 November 2005, we got married.
Our base is love and respect and communication.
For the first time in my life, I had learned what love is.
Not the love for a parent or love for a child, but love for someone you choose to share your life with, your innermost secrets.
I can easily say that I am still in love with him today as I was back when we met. He is my best friend, my buddy, my soulmate, my love, and there is no one on this earth that knows as much of me as he does.
We support each other in good and bad times. When I had a burnout and when I hurt my ankle so much I couldn’t walk, he supported me. He allowed me to cry, to be quiet, to stare into space, to talk, to heal. He pushed a wheelchair, even though he is the disabled one. He took care of me when I lay in bed with a fever because of a throat infection. He cares for me, supports me, challenges me, loves me.
I do the same for him, not because I have to, but because I want. I support him in everything. Six years ago, in September 2016, his health started deteriorating, and it went from not so good to bad (stroke) to worse (cancer).
He will never be the man again he was before, and his health might never be back to what it was again, but I will still be here for and with him. We will find a new balance together, build our life around the possibilities that remain. We are such a strong team that I know we will get through this. Whatever the future brings, we will make it work.
Our love is so strong; our base so solid.
A colleague once asked me why I don’t arrange a taxi for my husband to go to his appointments, so I have less of a burden. I told her: “That’s not the way we are married. We arrange his appointments on my off day and I take him where he needs to be. That’s just the way we treat each other and even though it’s hard sometimes, I do it with love. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
I love my husband unconditionally and will do everything for him the way I know he will do everything for me. It was only with him I learned the true meaning of love.
I have come full circle in love.
If I tell my husband I love him, this is our standard conversation:
Me: I love you. Him: I love you too. Me: I love you three. Him: Yes, you do.
And yes, I do!
I want to highlight two articles I have recently read, one by Uwem Daniels, the other by Susan Nanfeldt
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