This morning when I woke up, the first thing that I see is the poster at the foot of my bed. Technically, it’s not even a bed, for I sleep on the sofa. But there, in front of me, is a picture of my parents on their wedding day. My mother had me print that when I was in college. It was a letter to her from my father, and the background was a picture of their wedding kiss.
Today, is my parents’ wedding anniversary. This marks their 45th year together. This may seem unusual or amusing to some that we still count the anniversaries, but six years after my father’s passing, and I can still feel their love for each other.
Right now, my mother is listening to my father’s voice playing on the cassette tape. It’s a studio recording of him singing at a Karaoke King booth, and sometimes my mother would join in some of the songs. My father loved to sing; a few other cassette recordings were a testament to that. And there was no other woman he’d love to sing to than my mother, who also loved singing probably as much as she loved my father.
My thoughts are interrupted by my mother reminding me to eat already. As I rise up to prepare for breakfast, I think of how beautiful it is, the love that my parents’ had for each other. For even though it was one of the lines from their wedding vows, not even death would part them.
Too many hearts have broken
Failing to trust what they feel
But trust isn’t something that’s spoken
And love’s never wrong when it’s real
-Dan Fogelberg, “Believe In Me”