The 8-Year Dance

Yesterday, while celebrating Dad’s life, Donica and I celebrated our 8^th “wedding” anniversary. First, the doorbell rang and these dozen and a half roses greeted me.

Donica never met my dad (or Mom or Bennett) but we actually met in the summer of 1997, a few months after Mom died. We met while playing women’s softball first and then bowling, both on the same team. As they say, the rest is history.

The following April, 1998, 3 years after Dad’s death, we spent a weekend in lovely Asheville, NC, to visit the Biltmore Estate and, on Sunday, April 12, to say our “wedding vows” to each other. On a gorgeous, sunny day, we spread a Eucharistic picnic in Asheville’s arboretum and spoke the vows of commitment we had written for each other. Alone, before the face of God.

I say alone but I actually pictured Dad there, officiating. He wouldn’t have known what to do with gay marriage back then, before “passing over” into Eternity’s way of seeing things. But that day I think he actually understood.

Later, after the roses, there was a box that arrived full of these dozen, HUGE, chocolate-covered strawberries. Since Donica can't eat them (okay, she cheated and had one!), they were clearly for me. Omigod! At one-a-day, they’ll just about do me in! What was she thinking?!

Why a dance? Because it takes two. It almost always involves music (you don’t think of Donica without music!). Sometimes you lead; sometimes you follow. And it takes practice.

I can’t ever imagine a different dance partner the rest of my life! Thank you, Donica. I love you!