Yesterday was such an exciting, invigorating, relief of a day- we (I) got up early to watch the Supreme Court hand down their decisions on Prop 8 and DOMA. We have been waiting for months, and years, for those decisions. If they went badly we would never be married in our lifetime. It takes the Supreme Court and average of 50 years to reverse itself on decisions. We do not have an extra fifty years at this point...
Then we saw interns running down the steps of the Court, and heard screams- of joy. This one was ours! Casper woke up, and smiled- really, truly smiled. No matter how hard things are, when you find out you have just gained the rights of everybody else, it matters. I read the news as it poured out of DC, and waited for the final decision on Prop 8. I woke Casper up again. Twenty minutes before she knew what was occurring. Now- no recollection at all. "Did we win?"
Yes- we won! We could get married! Another big smile. It doesn't matter how bad things get- when you can marry the person you love, it's a good day. And maybe even better when you have dementia, because the previous not-really-a-wedding is not quite in the memory any longer. Then- a glimmer- "Are we having shave ice again?"
We were married in heart but not legally in California in 2011. That mattered because we have kids. They needed to see we were forming a solid family following the death of my first wife, Linda. We needed the kids to see it and feel it, and so did we. We had fun that day: BBQ, Hawaiian Shave Ice, Ben and Jerry's sundaes, cupcakes with milk, a jump house, lots of friends, and so much love. Then we were "Civil Unioned" in Hawaii this year. Romantic, on the beach, turtles and whales below us. Totally our style. But that is not enough of a marriage to meet the new standards for the fall of DOMA...so now it's time for wedding number three. I will soon be able to say I have been married six times to two women, and I was never divorced. I believe that shatters Elizabeth Taylor's record. Linda would be the one to ask about that. My timing is off.
Linda and I were married in a ceremony in our church in our first year together. Then in 2004 we were married in San Francisco along with our best friends in a wedding with three couples and six children. Weeks later the California Supreme Court annulled us. Then in 2008 we made it legal, forever, joining 18,000 other couples at the alter in a brief window before Prop 8 passed. We chose what would be the hottest day of the year, in our big, beautiful antique church, with no air conditioning. It was joyous, packed, and we made our vows with our best friends and our children. We celebrated into the night- until Linda could not breathe. That was the beginning of the end for us, but one of the best days of our lives. We knew that day she was dying, but we vowed to make it a celebration of our love. Her smiling picture from that day was the one we used at her memorial service. You can see the love in her eyes. As much as that was a legal marriage, after her death the Federal government told me repeatedly that we were married in our state but not our country. Huh? No Federal benefits. Prove you are survivors for filing taxes, no VA benefits... the list of insults and idiocy went on and on and on.
Then yesterday happened. And suddenly DOMA is dead. I am suddenly a legal widow and a fiance in the same moment. I am not sure how that plays out... but we'll run with it. And suddenly we can get married. Really, truly married. And Casper can't remember most of it. She can remember one very important thing- that she loves me and wants to marry me. (okay, and one other things- she wants to lose weight before a wedding). So we head downtown for a celebration we helped to plan. On the way there...
"So what did the Court do?" "What does it mean?" I can see the struggle. She wants so much to remember. And to be able to process the information. We go over it a few times. When we get to our church where we are setting up outside, she is still not sure, but she knows there is stuff to be done. That she can do. She gets the rainbows and wedding bells out, she sets to work with the kids, she greets a few members she can remember. Now church seems like home to her too. We set a chair up so she can watch but not be involved if needed. Then...
"I'm going to get dinner." What? "This lady is new. She needs to eat. We'll be right back." What? Suddenly I wish I had installed the secret gps tracker in her shoes. Too late. She's disappeared. An hour later she's back. "Did you eat?" Sheepish eyes..."No, I had ice cream." What? Did the new friend eat? "I think so. I found ice cream." What is her name? "I don't know. But I found ice cream."
One of the most important days in my life..."I found ice cream." But the look- "I love you. I am afraid. I am glad I got back here to you." Casper settles in and we celebrate. My shy Casper picks up her sign and meets me on a corner to greet motorists. My Casper waves and greets people. I am stunned. "We can get married now?" Oh yes, we can.
Dementia and Parkinson's rob you of so much. Your memories. Your ability to think things through. Your career. Sometimes who you are. But it can't take the love you feel and see in the eyes of your partner.
It can't take the person you love. It can't steal the magic of who you are as a couple. And it will not steal our newest wedding. Casper and I have only had two. We have to have one more to call it equal. And to be legal. Once and for all. Forever.
Christmas... I love Christmas. And I love Christmas weddings... and Casper.
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