Life's Markers

The thought of our past years in me doth breed perpetual benedictions

William Wordsworth Longfellow

A Wedding Anniversary

Today is our 33rd wedding anniversary.....a co-worker asked if I was surprised we'd made it this long. I'd be surprised if we hadn't.

I met Dale when I was 18...fresh from high school and starting college at BYU. I knew the first night that I would marry him....I was bold enough(the first night)to tell him I loved him. Some things can't be explained.

We have endured much in our 33 years. Some at our own hand, some at the hand of fate. We have loved deeply, and loathed deeply, but we have never lost site of each other's soul. We have believed in the best part of each other....at times that has been our only salvation.

LOSS AND GAIN

When I compare What I have lost with what I have gained, What I have missed with what attained, Little room do I find for pride I am aware How many days have been idly spent; How like an arrow the good intent Has fallen short or been turned aside.
But who shall dare to measure loss and gain in this wise? Defeat may be victory in disguise; The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide...Longfellow

A Day of Remembrance

We placed the wreaths upon the splendid granite sarcophagus, and at its feet, and felt that only the earthly robe we loved so much was there. The pure, tender, loving spirit which loved us so tenderly, is above us -- loving us, praying for us, and free from all suffering and woe -- yes, that is a comfort, and that first birthday in another world must have been a far brighter one than any in this poor world below! Queen Victoria

We have these in our life as well....the anniversary of a death. These are painful, unbearable at times.... the loss of the laughter, the love, and connections past, present, and future which we mourn.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad... Longfellow

The Secret Anniversaries of the Heart

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;---
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows.
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on the stream,
These tender memories are;--a Fairy Tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream...Longfellow

Longfellow was a devoted husband and father with a keen feeling for the pleasures of home. But his marriages ended in sadness and tragedy — the first to Mary Potter, of Portland, who died in 1835; the second to Fanny Appleton — the great love of his life and the mother of his six children — who died of burns from a terrible accident in 1861. He too, lost two children.(poem hunter.com)

A deep nostalgia for his life with Fanny colored the rest of Longfellow's life.

I believe it is the nostalgia that speaks to me. The looking back over one's shoulder...those events that define who we are...we celebrate the journey but mourn the arrival with less than we had hoped and more yet to endure.