Five years ago today, I married my best friend, the love of my life, the most perfect man in the world for me. Our union was witnessed by a small group of family and dear friends, outside under the trees at the Tacoma Nature Center, on a beautiful Indian Summer day.
Our photographer used the photo-journalistic style at my request. The details of our day were important to us both and I wanted to be sure the littlest things were captured: the dahlia and grouse feathers in my hair (we married on the third weekend of grouse season, significant to my hunter husband); the gorgeous sunset-hued dahlias (my favorite flowers) in my bouquet, the corages and boutinierres, and all around the reception room; our wedding clothes (let's face it, we rarely dress up, so had to capture the occasion for posterity!), and our rings.
We hold hands constantly, out of habit, comfort and pure enjoyment, always out in public and often just sitting at home watching TV, my pale, slender fingers counterpoint against his huge hard-working hands.
I picked up our bereavement photos from the hospital a couple of weeks ago, and gasped when I saw them for the first time. The hospital photographer had placed our babies, wrapped together in their blanket with only heads and hands visible, on my still-swollen belly and arranged our left hands, wedding rings showing, over top of them. I remembered the pose, but the significance was lost on me at the time.
Our vows included the phrase, "...in good times and in bad times, as long as we both shall live." We never dreamed what those bad times could entail. (Of course, what was a sad and tragic day was also glorious and magical, because we saw the products of our love for eachother in person.) These hands will be through a lot more in the years to come, both good and bad I'm certain, but we'll go through whatever comes together.