Sixty days ago, I did one of the scariest, surest, happiest things I’ve ever done in my life – I got married. I got married to a really amazing and wonderful man. He is funny, smart, really really sexy, and drives a big ol’ truck for a living. So manly. And it’s good he’s a manly man, because I’m into that kind of thing. I like some macho with my male, thank you. A little extra testosterone with my teddy bear, please. That day was amazing!! I don’t think I’ve ever been so…GIDDY. Actually, I don’t think I’ve EVER been giddy, so that was a first for me. I almost ran down the aisle. I didn’t mean to, I promise I meant to be demure and walk slowly to the tempo of the music and bask in the moment… but when it came down to it I just wanted to get on with it!! LET’S GET MARRIED, YOU!!!! So we did. And we laughed. And we danced. And we laughed with our families and danced with our friends. And we marveled that we actually DID THE DANG THANG! And we did it really, really, classily well thanks to our amazing team of friends and referrals who worked it all out. And we enjoyed ourselves immensely. And our families shed tears of joy and laughed and made friends with each other. And we marveled at how beautiful/handsome we were. And that we were legally married now. And we almost had a ruined photography session. And we wondered if there was ever a wedding in the history of weddings that DIDN’T have some stupid ridiculous chaos like that. And we were grateful that this was the only real problem we had all that day. And we managed to even enjoy the photo session, but God were we glad when that thing was over (it was HOT out there and that dress was heavy and I know he was cookin in that tux). And we happily ate delicious leftovers from the reception for dinner. And we giggled with each other in the plush comfy pillow-topped hotel room bed. And we became One.
Waking up next to him the next day in the hotel, and at home every day after that, I wondered when I would feel “different.” I asked him about it, when we would feel “different,” and he said, “Baby, we’re in our 40s. We were pretty settled when we met. There’s not a lot of ‘different’ that we’re gonna be!” So we started talking about projects to do around the house. And we started going to church together. And we started going grocery shopping together. And we started to set and fall into the familiar and easy and really happy pattern of living together as Husband and Wife. I make his coffee and lunch every weekday; he makes breakfast Sundays before church; Fridays are “Fend for Yourself” for dinner; and Saturdays are “Let’s Eat Out If We Can Afford It.” What night should our date night be? I like fabric softener in my clothes. You stop swiping the covers in the middle of the night! Can we get the cable package with HBO so I can watch Boardwalk Empire? I won’t make you watch football, but I am going to watch football. I am throwing this t-shirt away!!! It is a dust rag now!!! I. Don’t. Like. Pajamas. Oh wait…those are pajamas? Oh…well…I can get with pajamas. I don’t understand DC’s streets! But I like DC! What is “go-go?” Let’s pray for each other at some point every day, ok baby? Even if we just text it. Ok honey. I would like that.
And nothing, none of all that change for him or for me, felt ‘different,’ everything felt completely natural and normal and seamless, as if the transition from being single to being married was a matter of merely waking up. Being married seemed to be so easy that I was nervous, thinking that I must be doing something wrong.
And then life happened.
Less than 30 days after our wedding, my husband’s wonderful mother died suddenly, unexpectantly, shockingly. He was crushed. I was scared. He was scared. I was…I don’t know; speechless. Seriously, THIS??? I watched him respond to the phone call, terrified and clinging to the only two things I knew for certain in that moment: I loved this man like I’d loved no one else, and God loved us both more than we understood. That’s all I had. Would it be enough? That night I wasn’t sure. I can be honest about that now. But it’s what I had and I was going with that, no matter what needed to be done and no matter what was to come. And I had no idea what was to come.
We drove up to New Jersey early the same morning we got that call. A little over two very quiet and very tense hours later, we walked into the hospital lobby and I met his ex-wife for the first time. Awkward doesn’t describe it. As awkward as that was, it wasn’t important. My husband’s beloved, wonderful, hilarious, loving, sweet as a field of sugarcane mother was no longer with us. He and his sisters and his two adult children were devastated. I knew their devastation, and I hated that they had to know it now. As familiar as I was with this particular pain, the pain of the sudden loss of a beloved, I felt helpless, because I knew there was nothing that could or would ease this pain. This was a pain you just had to go through – there’s no medicating or salving it. So I clung to my love for my husband, and my trust in God’s love for us, as I saw my mom’s face in his mom’s, and saw myself standing in the hospital room seeing my mom for the next-to-last last time (the last time would be the funeral), just as he and his sisters were doing at that moment. My heart broke into sharp little pieces all over again, feeling as if something was cutting the inside of my chest. It hurt to breathe, and my head felt like it was going to explode. Now what do I do, God? Didn’t You give him to me? Didn’t You give me to him? Did You do it for THIS?? For THIS?? What am I supposed to do with THIS???? No answers. So I just held my husband’s hand. And when he had to tell his Grandmom that her daughter was gone – just like I had to tell mine – I held my husband as he cried bitterly for his mom. God…what is my purpose now?
We’ve driven up to New Jersey every weekend since his mother’s death, with the exception of two so far. We’ll drive up there at least once a month for the near future. My husband and I and his sisters – who, along with their dad, have just adopted me as part of the clan; God bless them like crazy – are now dealing with those sticky family issues that make you cringe after a death that no one wants to deal with. We’re dealing with unexpected expenses and unexpected days off from work, which of course impact the expenses even more. Budget?? Yeah…ok. We’ll get back to that one of these days. We’re dealing with physical and emotional tiredness and road-weariness we didn’t think we’d have to face outside of a cross-country road trip for a vacation. We’re dealing with friends, family, and others who have been shockingly and painfully callous, uncaring, uncooperative, selfish, and seemingly completely unconcerned about the horrible logistical, emotional and financial difficulties we’re going through. We’re dealing with people who should be doing whatever they can to help make the load lighter for the surviving children, but are instead making selfish demands of the surviving children. We’re dealing with a level of stress that none of us has known before. All while trying to grieve. To experience a sudden death is one thing – to deal with the kind of fallout we have experienced…you’re asking a lot, God. This is JUST…a LOT.
And my husband and I are dealing with all this 60 days into this marriage. Sixty. Days.
NOW I feel different. Because a fiery trial will do that to you – it will transform you. But I also feel different because NOW I know a little better how this whole One thing works. I didn’t really understand until one of us was under fire (him), and the other of us (me) didn’t like it. Oh yeah, NOW I feel VERY different.
Now I feel like I don’t care who you are or what you do, how you know him or how far back y’all go, you will not disrespect or hurt my husband, not if I can help it. Now I feel like he is my responsibility. Not in a hovering Mommy kind of way, but in a THIS IS MY MAN AND I WILL CUT YOU PLEASE DON’T TRY ME kind of way. Now I feel like anyone who has little or no respect for my marriage has little or no respect for me. Now I feel like anyone who has little or no respect for my husband has little or no respect for me. Now I feel like anyone who isn’t praying for us, praying with us, and rooting for us to succeed is just hoping we fail, and I’ve unapologetically got no time for you in our life. Now I feel like anyone who can’t reach out and support us when we experience hard times doesn’t have a place in our celebration when we’ll be experiencing more joyous times. If you can’t show up for us when things suck, don’t bother showing up when we soar. Now I feel like a grownup, a grown woman, a grown a## woman, because being married and facing a storm together will make you realize the very stark difference between your childish pet peeves as somebody’s girlfriend and the very real and extremely adult responsibilities of being a WIFE. Now I understand that there is no time frame for the “for better or worse.” There’s no set period of time you get to enjoy the “better” before you have to endure the “worse.” Now I understand that I had to be a grownup to deal with what came no matter what it was and no matter when it came. Because you get no warning about either.
Yeah, so now I feel different. Because now I feel like the worst day in life with this man next to me (my Honey Bear, my Hero, my Sexy Chocolate Superman) is better than the best day I’ve ever had by myself. And just like God gave us both the strength to endure what was to come, He gave us each other so we wouldn’t have to endure it alone. So yeah, sixty days later, I feel different. I’m a WIFE, and I’m in this for the next sixty YEARS.
-Dedicated to my husband of 60 days and enumerable more to come, Abdus-Shahid Luqman
The Journey To... 