The band that surprises

If you had told the 18-year-old strident feminist me that I would, in my somewhat-softer fifties, rejoice in the wearing of a wedding band, that younger me would have laughed you out of the room. 

First, that younger me knew that same-sex marriage wasn’t (at the time) possible (and had no faith in politicians to change that any time soon) and, second, even if it were, that younger me knew she would never choose it. Voluntarily submit to the state’s sanction of my relationship? Ha! Forget about it, sister. Wouldn’t ever happen.

So, imagine my surprise when, at the age of 53, getting married was exactly what I wanted to do. 

By that time, same-sex marriage had been legal and possible in Canada for about ten years, but tying the knot with, Val, my long-time partner still held no appeal for me. I had no need. No interest. No plans. 

Then cancer struck her for the second time and Val no longer seemed invincible, nor our relationship unshakable. Suddenly, it was time to state explicitly that we have been, are and will be a couple, committed to each other and desirous of public — dare I say, state — acknowledgement of our 20-years-and-counting commitment. Who knew that I would feel this way? Who knew that it would be me who would propose that we get married, that we have an actual wedding? Who knew that it would take me three proposals before Val took me seriously and, at the urging of a friend present for dinner that night, accepted and agreed? 

Then it was a whirlwind, as our friend Yvonne became wedding planner extraordinaire and helped us pull the event together in just ten days — that was all the time we had before Val would start chemo treatments and, as she said to the appointment booker at CancerCare, she wanted to be married while she still had all her hair. But pull it off Yvonne did, with the help of the dozen or so friends we invited to be present. Everyone brought food, drink or flowers; our friend Randa officiated; Val and I said loving vows to each other; toasts were made to us; and, voila, we were married. 

August 31, 2019 marks our sixth anniversary of legal marriage. 

From left: Randa, our friend and the marriage commissioner; Val; 

Yvonne, organizer extraordinaire and my witness; me; 

Mendel, procurer of the splendid cake and Val's witness.

I hadn’t known it was possible to feel such happiness, but that Saturday I experienced pure happiness. All was right in our world that day and our own joy at getting married was reflected back to us by and through our friends and family, present in our home and from across the country. It was glorious. 

The gold bands that Val and I gave each other that day represent all that and more. The one I wear reminds me of that day’s happiness and represents to the world that one special person holds me particularly close and dear to her heart. 

And that is why I love wearing my wedding band. It reminds me every day of this wonder, and I rejoice in that surprising and heart-warming realization every day.