By Anne Gagliano
Every bride remembers her wedding day. She remembers the dresses; she remembers the flowers; she remembers the cake. She remembers who was there and who sang. But that which a bride remembers most is the way she felt that day. I remember feeling overwhelmed; so powerful were the emotions swirling through my mind that most of the day was but a blur of love, joy, and warmth. The vows promised in a sacred oath to God were but a whisper in my head that were nearly drowned out by the pounding of my heart. I remember having a surreal, incredulous sense of awe that this was really happening to me. I was promising, at the tender young age of 20, to spend the rest of my life with the young man standing beside me who had the audacious courage to do the same.
Something magical happened that day—something beyond description. Two souls became soul mates; two bodies became one flesh. A union was formed that was both unbreakable yet strangely fragile, for we weren’t chained, we weren’t locked together in a prison; the doors were not shut. But rather our bond was one of choice—a choice that would have to be remade daily over the course of our lives if our marriage was to last. And we did choose each other, again and again and again, to arrive to this date 27 years later: August 31, 2012.
Would we have dared to make such a commitment back then if we knew what challenges lie ahead? Young lovers always say they know it won’t be easy—but they really don’t know. You can’t truly comprehend all that life can throw at you until you’ve actually experienced it for yourself.
When we said “for better or worse,” we believed the better would be most prevalent and wondered, how bad can the worse really be? We would find out. Just six years into our marriage my dad would become permanently disabled from a stroke. One of our bridesmaids (my cousin) would lose her future 8-year-old son to cancer. My other cousin, also a bridesmaid, would lose her future husband. I would lose my mother to pancreatic cancer. We’d watch beloved grandparents, aunts and uncles, and fellow firefighters die. We’d lose a friend in attendance at our wedding to the Iraq War. Two of our groomsmen would later go through bitter divorces that broke our hearts, for we love them like brothers.
Another of my bridesmaids was my husband Mike’s little sister Melissa. I hardly knew her then; she was to me a 17-year-old who seemed typical of girls that age—moody and a bit bratty. I could not have imagined then that she would grow to be one of the best friends I would ever have and that I would come to love her and cherish her as if she were my very own sister. And I never could have fathomed that Mike and I would be holding our beloved sister as she slipped into eternity at the age of 44 just a week before our 27th anniversary. We know how bad the “worse” can truly be.
When we promised to prevail through “richer or poorer,” we had no clue how poor we already were. We would soon find out when we came face to face with the rent due on our first apartment, our first electric bill, and our first grocery bill. (Campus living as college students had been a tad different than the real world.) Then we added two babies to our household, and the budget was stretched even thinner.
When we vowed to endure through “sickness and health,” our young healthy bodies seemed impervious to any kind of disease. Sickness was for the very old. We were wrong. We would learn of the terrifying realities of injuries from firefighting; even strong young men can get hurt. We would face the crippling fear of waiting for cancer test results, starting in our 40s.
With youthful zeal, we made lofty promises to each other before God and family and friends. We were blissfully ignorant of how highly the odds were stacked against us because of our age and our station in life. But we believed with all assurance that everything would work out. All we saw was a powerful desire, a compelling need, to be together at any cost. All we felt was physical pain at the mere thought of being apart.
Would we have been so bold as to make these lifelong vows if we knew all that was to come? If we knew then what we know now, would we do it all again? The answer is yes, a resounding, emphatic yes! The good has indeed far outweighed the bad, though at times it may have seemed otherwise. The joy of raising those two precious children and watching them grow into wonderful adults has surpassed our wildest expectations of parenthood. The thrill of watching my young husband become a successful career firefighter, writer, and speaker has filled my life with a deep pride and respect for him. And the satisfaction of building a home filled with unending support, friendship, passion, and love has completed me in ways I never dreamed possible. We’ve been there in each other’s darkest hours and shared each other’s most blissful moments; this is worth every sacrifice of freedom or selfish desire.
Two individuals became one on our wedding day so long ago. A promise was made, and a promise has been kept. We know we can still fail, that the race is not yet over, but we press on, applying the lessons learned through experience along the way.
To young newlyweds out there I say this: You will have bad days, worse than you fear; but you will have good days too, better than you can now comprehend. If you choose each other every day, you’ll never go through the good or the bad alone; with your partner by your side, the good becomes better and the bad is easier to bear.
The word anniversary means that a year has turned. As your world turns, remember your wedding day, that place where you started. Remember where you’ve been together, and never stop planning and hoping for a better future. Whether it’s your first or your 50th, Happy Anniversary!
Anne Gagliano has been married to Captain Mike Gagliano of the Seattle (WA) Fire Department for 26 years. She and her husband lecture together on building and maintaining a strong marriage.
