My Twentieth Anniversary

A million years ago, or just yesterday, I married the most wonderful man. It seems like we have been together forever. But I can remember the happiness of walking down the aisle towards my handsome husband, grinning like a fool, as if it just happened yesterday.

My Patrick has been a fun partner and a loyal friend. He has been a stalwart anchor for our family, a sweet and generous lover, a kind man that greets the world with open arms and a smile. He is a happy soul with unlimited energy, drive, determination, and ability to achieve anything he wants. He is a man who is in touch with his feelings, and he brings out the best in others. I feel extremely lucky that he chose me to be his partner – twenty years ago today.

We met in September of 1987 – he was going through a painful divorce, and I was recovering from my mother’s death of just the year before. It took me five long years to recover from the fallout of my own divorce, and I had two young children and a handicapped sister that depended on me. Life was OK; maybe a little hard. And then I met Patrick.

We must have known each other before, in other lifetimes, because I felt so drawn to him right from the beginning. It was like coming home. We had so much fun together, from outings to watching TV movies, and laughter is woven throughout all my memories.

It hasn’t been all fun and games; we’ve had our hard times. Raising children that aren’t yours by birth is not the easiest job; Pat struggled with two teenage girls and all the emotional upheaval that means. Job troubles, health troubles, family troubles, we’ve been through it all in various degrees. But we’ve had each other, so I can’t remember many details of the hard times, because having Patrick hold me in his arms when I was despairing made all the unhappy details disappear.

You get addicted to the constancy of love when it’s good. You lean into it. You count on it. You need it.

Sometimes I wonder who I am without Patrick. Am I still the same person without his love and support? Is it possible to define who I am without defining who I love and who loves me? I don’t know anymore. The lines are so blurry. But I like it like this. I love reaching out and feeling him right there.

He is my biggest fan. He supports everything I do. He thinks I am smart, and beautiful, and sexy. And because he sees me that way, I am.

I love his stories. I admire his generosity, his friendliness, his work ethic. I respect him, I enjoy him, I love him. I hope he knows how much.

I am so happy that I have had these years with him. Bonus years. I know I’m lucky for what I’ve had, but I am selfishly praying for at least twenty more. I’ll keep taking care of him, giving him vitamins and backrubs. Because he is mine. And I love him.

Happy Anniversary, Patrick. I love you. ~Your Janice


September 29, 1990 ~ September 29, 2010