Essay 141: 25 years ago we met

We’ve been together more years than I had been alive when we first met. 

25 years since I met my American star! A quarter of a century. Two and half decades. 300 months. By any time measuring standards, it’s been a while!

I was 21 on that fateful June, 11th, 1997 and still 21 when he asked me to marry him eight months later.

I take you to be my wedded husband

I landed in Los Angeles with a total of three hundred dollars in my wallet and no bank account. He had a car payment. We moved to Hawaii eleven months later with two suitcases, a boombox, and no concrete idea of how we were going to make living. 

For poorer

Five years into our marriage, he was (mis-)diagnosed with a rare liver disease for which there was only experimental treatment that cost us five hundred dollars per month. An actual liver biopsy later “downgraded” that diagnosis to auto-immune hepatitis. The switch to generic meds relieved our pocketbook but not our hearts. High doses of Prednisone made my usually mild and reserved husband roll the window down while driving and yell at people. Thank goodness, that didn’t last very long. 

In sickness

We celebrated our ten year anniversary on the North Shore of Oahu and renewed our vows quietly and by ourselves under a brilliant night sky. I finally could believe that he really was as amazing as he seemed. It wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t just a front. He wasn’t trying to fool me. No. He was simply one of the good guys and I had married him.  
Two years later, we had a baby. Parenthood superglued our marriage. It strengthened our bond and confirmed that our love was unbreakable.

For better

In 2015, a routine colonoscopy revealed severe inflammation that resulted in an Ulcerative Colitis diagnosis, a total colectomy , and a few hellish years of recovery. My husband tells me that many members of his J-Pouch Facebook group share that their “significant other” bail out. I scooted closer. 

For worse

We fine tuned his medication. We figured out a new diet. He recovered. 
I broke down. I started Zoloft, and therapy. I got lots of rest and grace. I recovered. 

In health

We resumed exploring the world. We saw old friends, met new friends, laughed til we cried, cried when we couldn’t laugh, and loved each other no matter what.
Covid happened. The world hit the pause button but we moved forward and bought the house of our dreams right by the beach. Waking up to pink sunrises and falling asleep with moonlight spilling into our bedroom.  Swimming in the ocean first thing in the morning and eating breakfast under palm trees. 

For richer

Right now, he (we) is dealing with more health problems. Infection. Emergency room visits. A Chron’s Colitis diagnosis. Surgeries. Pain. The healing powers of love. Life does what it will. We decide how to respond. Together.

For the starry-eyed 21 year old kissing that dark-haired hunk for the very first time 25 years ago, understanding “til death do us part” was impossible. 

I get it now. I get time passing. I get death coming. I get love enduring. 

As long as we both shall live

And beyond…

Burton Richardson, I’m so glad to have met you. May we enjoy at least 25 more years together. I love you! ❤️