After my Pop died I was helping my Nanny go through his stuff. I found an envelope addressed to her in my Pop's handwriting. Inside was a letter, a love letter of sorts. I wanted to keep the note, obviously I didn't because it was my Nanny's. When she died I figured someone else would want it... no one has it... including me... and that makes me sad... but I'm so grateful that I saw it. I remember exactly what it looked like... and I remember exactly what it said... and not because it was particularly profound or that I have an extraordinary memory, but because it was short. So short that when I first read it I was slightly offended, but it was lovely none-the-less. It read:
"Dear Elizabeth,
I love you.
Mike"
I've written before about what this woman meant to this man. I've thought about how I want to be that woman for the man I chose to marry. It was no secret that he took her for granted... and yet I know that if she could have, she would have killed him for dying right before their 50th wedding anniversary... and sometimes I'd wonder why... but after disecting this letter, I know.
One of the things I got when Nanny passed was a gold ring, a simple band 3mm wide. It was a little big on me and I don't know if she had ever even worn it, but I liked knowing it was hers. Recently I've been taking my engagement ring off a lot, to wash dishes or change the baby's clothes. It's a beautiful ring, and I know Dave gets slightly offended when I don't have it on. And truth be told, I don't like walking around without something on.
So I had Nanny's ring sized so that I could keep something on all the time, something that could get wet and something that wouldn't get caught on everything. I wore it for about an hour and my finger turned green. It was gold-filled. I was mildly heartbroken. So for Christmas this year I bought an exact copy of the ring, but real gold, and I had it inscribed...
My grandfather was.... somethin' else... a real piece of work. How Nanny lived with him, let alone stay married to him baffled me... and sometimes I wonder if I could do the same thing... and when I start to wonder that... I know I can, because despite what a ridiculous, silly, stubborn, a-hole my husband can be, I love him.. undeniably, unconditionally, and even when I hate his guts... I love him with a love that could only be divine in origination. And when he leaves his shoes under the dining room table for the 90834650792835 time, takes his shirt off in the dining room and leaves it there for the 54754765 day in a row, doesn't take all the trash out, doesn't flush the toilet, turns on or creates every single form of noise available to him while I am in desperate need of peace, lets the children eat on my white couch even though it's against the rules, or asks me at noon what we're having for dinner... even when he does these among other things that he knows drive me bat-shit-crazy.... I know he loves me the same way...
And sometimes, that's all you need to know.
I've always cherished a hand-written note. And the notes Dave has written me or texted me are lovely and I've saved every one...but I chose the inscription on my new ring purposefully...
I gave the jeweler two options; one of which was "Proverbs 31:10-31"... The first of those verses is "When one finds a good wife he has found treasure more valuable than pearls." That was the first reading, the reading I had to read, at my Nanny's funeral... the reading that was ingrained in my head from the first time I read it because no words were ever so perfect or appropriate. This is who she was, it was her legacy... and it's who I strive to be.
The other option I gave is the one which they used. When I picked up the ring I didn't know which inscription had been used and when I read it, I cried. In front of the girl, in the middle of the store. I couldn't help it. The ring reads "Dear Elizabeth, I love you. Mike"
When it started, he proposed and she said no. It took a number of times before she finally agreed and even at that her parents were pissed. He was complicated, her life was hard at times. Like mine. I'm blessed, truly truly blessed, but this is hard sometimes. Sometimes... it's hard. And marriage is hard... but their love story... the "till death do us part" story.... is a simple story... and that's their legacy...
Knowing that my husband's letter would say what a great mom and wife I am, that we're soulmates, that he's so lucky to have me... maybe my grandfather couldn't say that... maybe he just figured he'd cut to the chase and just throw it out there...
"I love you."
Because sometimes, even on the hardest day, or in the middle of a blow-out fight where you throw a paper plate at your husband's head as if it were a very sharp stainless steel disc and scream profanities at him in front of all the neighbors on the busiest Saturday afternoon there ever ever was.... perhaps... in order to move forward together.... perhaps that's all you need to know.
I bought myself a piece of jewelry for Christmas. I can't call it a "wedding ring", but it's a "marriage ring". I'll have it blessed and I'll wear it ... because I need people to know that in it's simplest form, I'm working hard at this. When it's easy, when it's hard, when it's nearly impossible....
I'm a complex woman. emotional. outspoken. I'm a piece of work. I knew someone else like that... and if I had to write one last letter to my husband....
Dear David Lars, I love you. Jaclyn
p.s. if you die on me right before our 50th wedding anniversary, I will kill you.
