Mayday, mayday, mayday

Thirty years ago on May 1st, 1993, Scott and I got married.

26 year olds- back then, a bit old to tie the knot

I picked May first for a couple of reasons. May Day is the start of spring, of new beginnings.

I had my last 6 weeks of medical school scheduled as off of rotation. I could get married, go on a honeymoon and not have the stress of school responsibilities. Graduation was in June and the start of my pediatric residency in Phoenix on July first. Many new beginnings.

I also picked May Day because I though Scott would forever jokingly remember our anniversary due to the distress phrase.

So here we are thirty years later.

I still love Scott.

We still laugh.

We have spent 22% of our married years as parents who lost a son to suicide. We are according to statistics “not the norm” since it was expected that we blame each other for our son’s act and we were expected to divorce. Well frankly I will show my sassy side and say “F that.” If anyone wants to see a couple that have lived through the pain of a child’s suicide, losing one set of parents in a 13 month time span (my parents), Scott’s father passing from COVID, loss of jobs, parenting a now only young adult son, stress of a full time medical career and teaching junior high kids (who has the harder job??) and still go on together – just look at us.

I have no words of advice. How we continue on as a couple works for us, but just as love is unique so is our relationship and what we find as our glue may not be the same for others.

Ten years
Twenty years

My parents were married 51 years. I don’t know if Scott and I will be around to celebrate a fortieth or fiftieth anniversary. But if we are both alive, I think we will. We hold each other up, live each day, laugh, and kiss each other goodnight.

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