Twenty years ago, my first marriage fell apart. Understand that that wasn’t supposed to happen. When I took my wedding vows–when I said “‘Til Death Do Us Part”–I meant it. I knew I had been extremely lucky in finding love and I knew I wasn’t the kind of guy who could be that fortunate twice. So I was convinced that I was going to spend the rest of my life alone…assuming that I didn’t just end it and escape the pain.
Yet I was foolish enough to approach an old friend of mine, Kathleen O’Shea, who lived down in Atlanta, and told her that I was interested in pursuing a more romantic relationship.
Several years later, with the agony of the divorce behind me, I was going to propose to her. My attorney strongly advised me to have her sign a prenup. She said she was willing to do it.
And I thought about it and thought about it and decided that I couldn’t. How could I say, once again, “‘Til Death Do Us Part” if I had made preparations for the marriage ending prematurely? The words would have no meaning. “‘Til death do us part unless we break up in which case you get nothing.” That doesn’t sound romantic.
So, like Indiana Jones in “Last Crusade” (which we just watched two days ago because it opened thirty years ago that day) I took a leap of faith off the lion’s mouth. I should mention that my parents adored Kathleen since they had been worried that I would never be happy again, and she made me very, very happy.
That was eighteen years ago today. She’s fond of saying that our marriage is now old enough to vote. It has been an amazing eighteen years. We’ve been through a lot together (near bankruptcy; stroke) but we have been blessed with friends, loving family, and a now-sixteen year old daughter. We’re really looking forward to the 21st anniversary, when it will not only be old enough to drink, but will exceed the twenty years of the first marriage. At this point health scares are behind us, money is fine, everything is going great. Perhaps I’m tempting the evil eye in saying that, but as long as we’re together, I’m not afraid of any risk. I love you, Kathleen.
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