Ten Years On

Well, it is our ten year wedding anniversary this year.

In some ways I can’t believe we made it.  There were times we were both convinced that we wouldn’t and had pretty much parted ways in our minds.  Constant health problems can take a toll on a relationship. As can babies, particularly twins.

We’ve had who is more exhausted fights, and I just wish you were healthy and can stay out of hospital for three months fights, I want to live in Australia fights, and I’m tired and everything is your fault fights – I’m sorry about those.

A series of counsellors labelled us with euphemisms which pretty much meant the same thing: I was the monkey and hailstorm to your turtle and rock. We never really learnt how to talk about things without getting angry or defensive, so often we didn’t talk about them, and they just got worse and worse and then awful.

We are learning though and most importantly, we are both really trying.

I remember the way you asked me to marry you, in a parking lot in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and I was mad at you.

We’d had a picnic that day and I guess I expected you’d propose.  You didn’t though, because you wanted to ask me while we were skiing together.  Somehow that turned into a fight as always seemed to happen.

As we started to drive back towards Calgary, you did a U-turn and drove to the mountains instead. As I sat on your lap in the cool autumn air, you told me that you were not perfect, I was not perfect, and our life together wouldn’t be perfect, but that you loved me more than everything.

Then you picked up a pebble from the ground and using the ring from your pinky finger gave it to me and asked me to be your wife.

You were right, our life together has not been perfect. But there is no one I love and respect more or would prefer to have in my life than you.

Remember our vows?

I promise to be your lover, companion, friend and ally, your partner in adventure, your consolation in adversity and your accomplice in mischief. I will hold you in my arms when you need to be held. I will listen when you need to talk. I will laugh with you in times of joy and comfort you in times of sadness. I will love you for who you are and I’m proud to become your partner.

I mean them more today.


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One comment

  1. Christine Simons

    Hello Emma, I have just read what is in the Guardian today. In 1988,when my mother was nearly 65,she had a car accident and became an incomplete quadriplegic, and must have had some sort of brain injury that affected her balance.She is a very independent person, and always has done what she wants to.Instead of a catheter ,or pads, she would not drink, and would urinate every hour.She wouldn’t use a wheelchair, but a walker. She had constant cystitis, but went overseas twice.She was taken off the plane to hospital in Singapore,I expect because of dehydration.(She travelled with a companion.) She has taken heaps of antibiotics.She lived alone.Being totally bloody minded has meant being a family member has sometimes been a nightmare.She is still alive ,at 94,although she now has dementia, and is in a nursing home.So,she proves that medical opinions don’t necessarily come true.It is very difficult ,so ,although my mother’s story is different to yours,I would understand some of it.It does seem to best ,to go ahead and do what is possible.My uncle had polio when he was 18 months old and built a two story house, and ran an engineering workshop.Where there is a will, there is a way! So all the best to both of you, it is definitely challenging losing mobility, we take it for granted, until it happens to us, or someone we know.


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