Today would have been my parents' 66th wedding anniversary. Just take a moment to absorb the significance of that number and imagine what it must be like to share your life, to know someone so well. To have spent more of your life together then apart.
My father was a man of 26, while my mother was a blushing bride at 17. An innocent child really. Boy oh boy, she was up to the task. A domestic and garden goddess, my mother knew how to do everything. My father was a simple, hard working, meat and potatoes man. As I recall him, he was a storyteller with excellent timing, he could call for square dancing, he had a deep connection with animals, he was a compassionate and loving friend. My parents sacrificed so much for us.
My father passed away a full 20 years before my mother but mother had no interest in any other man. Until her dying day she was able to identify his picture by stating that he was her husband and saying his full name.
I am not going to make up stories, their marriage wasn't perfect, they had more than their fair share of arguments and hard times. The beauty of it was there was never a discussion of an out. Not in their marriage or in the marriages of their peers. There is something very rich and satisfying about having had a nuclear family. It is one of my deepest personal failings.
It is a blessing to celebrate their shared lives.
Mother, Father and my three oldest siblings.
My parents have such a proud satisfied look.
Who won't with three healthy children.