This is a personal blog long before the height of events blogging and the outpouring of groundswell thinking and I am supposed to write about this momentous occasion of celebrating my wedding anniversary with my DH. I used to call him my SO and it feels nice to call him DH now. I am starting to come to terms to being a wife now and approaching the Titas of Manila status. I used to be the one bobbing my head during late evening concerts but now I am mellowing into staying home and tinkering with things in my she shed.
Truth is, I can’t find words so I delayed writing it for a few days. I had pictures but not the right amount or intensity of words to describe how special our anniversary was or how special this relationship is, in general.
I think it was in this same blog where I was ruminating a lifetime of growing old in a tiny flat alone with cats and stacks of books that hit the ceiling around 4 to 5 years ago. There are cats from where I live now, but I am far from alone, this is not a tiny flat, and the stacks of books are… very much stacked and still here with me.
I never imagined that I’d become a housewife. Yet, here we are, chronicling it from a very pretty home office that my husband helped set up for me with the generosity of my mother-in-law, father-in-law, and sister-in-law.
I still don’t have the words today. On our anniversary, we did not necessarily travel far or out of the country. But we spent 365 days exploring each other and finding so much more about the other person and our very selves in the entire process. We hit some road bumps. Those road bumps were mere anthills for most old strong couples but they surely felt like mountains to me and him. After the end of the first year, I must say, I feel more solidly like we comprise 1 body than when we started out.
Marriage is not easy. It’s a rather violent process of melding two unique individuals and turning them into this special tag team. No, your wedding gown’s price tag does not prepare you for it, no matter how exorbitant the costs.
It’s not just about making love. It’s about making things work even when the other is being extremely unreasonable. I am usually unreasonable when I am unwell. I credit this wonderful person for being able to handle that, in the same way that I handle whatever defects he has. In fact, I am one of the world’s most self-absorbed people and marrying him allowed me to realize that and amend that so that I can love him more. I just can’t stay and be my old self because I know that I still have so much more to give.
The definition of love does not change. Affections do not necessarily fade away. It just deepens when both parties are willing to submerge themselves in the love they have for each other.
And this means that romance is now feeling kilig whenever he makes sure that I have a nice home office, when he stands in line on National Bookstore’s Warehouse sale not because he’s a huge bookworm and book hoarder but because it makes me happy to be there, when he makes sure that my medications are taken on time, when he buys my favorite bag of chips on the way home from work, when he manages me when I cannot manage the basic things in myself. (Like the really embarrassing basic things.) It’s when he feels kilig when I support his financial decisions or diskarte in life, when I make attempts to cook something, or basically TRUST him by not tinkering with his smartphone inbox.
When we were boyfriend and girlfriend, it was not like this. It was more on sparks. This year, it was more on commitment and deepening out of our self-giving.
This whole year that we entered into this marriage, I saw the man I stood at the altar with for who he really is minus the barong and the entourage: a really good person who is perfectly matched to me. And the fact that I cannot post this without crying means that he has touched my life at so many tremendous levels.
It’s the type of crying you do when you realized that everything you wished for in a man was given to you by a good God and you hope that it lasts despite the numerous trials that most married people attest to down the line.
It’s not the type you see on movies like Paper Towns but it’s still love in its deepest form. I am posting a photo of him on a plain T-Shirt to prove my point. It’s not a movie poster. But that smile on his face is enough to make me smile for a lifetime.
(Remember that matchmaker who allowed us to meet? I owe her so much of my life’s happiness and I hope that she will always be blessed for introducing us.)
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. I love you!