The Way He Carried Me

Today marks 36 years of marriage and 41 years together.

When people hear those numbers, they may imagine we’ve somehow figured out the secret to a lasting marriage. They may imagine we’ve always agreed, always understood each other, or somehow avoided the struggles that come with sharing a life for more than four decades.

When I think about those years, what comes to mind isn’t a secret.

We met when we were 16 years old.

Children, really.

In many ways, we grew up together.

At 16, you think you know who you are and what you want from life. Looking back, I realize we were both still figuring it out. We learned together, made mistakes together, and slowly became the people we are today.

What I remember most about him in those early years was his character. He was kind, thoughtful, hardworking, and funny. He had a beautiful smile and a way of making me laugh. He seemed older than his years, steady in a way that drew me to him immediately.

Our conversations flowed naturally from the beginning. We talked about the things that mattered. We wanted a family. We wanted a future together. We dreamed about leaving the desert town where we were raised and building a life of our own.

For me, it felt natural from the start, as though I had always known him.

Five years later, we married.

Shortly afterward, he joined the Marine Corps. After boot camp, we spent a few months in North Carolina before eventually being stationed in San Diego.

Those first years were exciting. We were young, married, and figuring things out as we went. Looking back, we didn’t have a care in the world beyond each other.

We spent weekends exploring, being spontaneous, and simply enjoying being together.

Looking back, those years felt carefree in a way only youth can. We were building a life together one adventure at a time.

Then he was stationed in Japan.

We spent a year apart while he served overseas. For some couples, that kind of distance might have pulled them apart. For us, it only confirmed what we already knew—we were better together than apart.

We spent more money than we expected on international phone calls just to stay connected.

When he returned, he was offered the opportunity to attend officer school and continue his military career. Accepting would have meant another year apart. Instead, he made a different choice. He chose us. He chose to come home so we could build the life we had imagined together.

Those years after he came home became some of the most treasured years of our lives.

Although the road to parenthood would include heartbreak and loss, we spent nearly 20 years together as just the two of us.

We became best friends in the truest sense of the word.

We settled into our new life together.

Many of our friends started families much earlier and never had that same season of life together. Looking back, those years were a gift. We learned how to care for one another, how to lean on each other through disappointment and joy, and how to build a partnership rooted in friendship. In many ways, those years gave us the foundation for everything that came later.

Over the years, I've come to realize that caregiving doesn't always mean someone is sick.

Sometimes it's a child who needs you, a partner, aging parents, and sometimes it's yourself.

It can mean sacrificing a dream for someone else's dream.

Carrying more than your share for a season.

Choosing "us" over "me."

When our son was born, I remember days when I would still be in my pajamas when he came home from work. My hair was undone. I smelled like milk. I was exhausted in the way only a new parent can understand.

He would walk through the door, reach for our son, and tell me, “Go.”

And I would.

I would take a bath, close the door, and have a few precious moments to myself while he took over without hesitation.

As a new mother, those moments meant everything.

What followed was more than a decade filled with children, caregiving for my mother who had dementia, appointments, difficult decisions, illness, losses, and all the ordinary demands that come with building a family.

Throughout all of it, my husband remained steady.

While I was driving children, caring for my mother, managing appointments, and trying to hold everything together, he was quietly making it possible.

I would come home after a long day to find him doing dishes, folding laundry, making dinner, working in the yard, fixing things around the house, or tackling one of the endless projects that come with owning a home.

He never needed to be asked.

He simply noticed.

That’s the kind of man he is.

One morning, my son and I were leaving for Disneyland before the sun came up. As we walked through the kitchen, the floor squished beneath our feet.

Something was wrong. We weren't sure what.

I woke my husband to tell him about the floor. He looked around, told us to go enjoy our day, and said he’d figure it out.

That day wasn’t just a trip to Disneyland. My son was finally meeting a friend he had spent years gaming with online. Their family was traveling through California, and after years of talking and playing together, they had planned to meet in person at The Happiest Place on Earth.

When we returned late that evening, I opened the door to find my husband standing armpit-deep in our kitchen floor.

The dishwasher had leaked.

The damaged flooring and cabinets had already been removed.

Beside him stood our daughter, holding a flashlight so he could see what he was doing.

While my son and I spent the day making memories, they had spent theirs tearing apart a kitchen.

He never complained.

He never asked us to come home.

He simply handled what needed handling.

That moment says more about who he is than I ever could.

One of the greatest gifts he gave me was time.

Because of his willingness to provide for our family, I was able to stay home with our children during years I will always treasure. We sacrificed things along the way. We didn’t have the biggest house. We didn’t live the same life some of our friends did.

What we gained was something far more valuable.

Time.

With our children.

Caring for my mother.

For the moments that mattered most.

He gave me the ability to be present during some of the sweetest years of my life, and I will always be grateful for that.

Now that life is becoming a little easier, and our children are growing older and more independent, I find myself reflecting on the wonderful man who carried me through it all.

For years, I thought of myself as the caregiver.

And I was.

Reflecting on those years, I realize my husband was the biggest caregiver of all.

Lately, I find myself longing to return my focus to him.

To make sure the man who carried me so gracefully feels as loved and cared for as he has always made me feel.

Not because we ever stopped loving each other.

But because we spent years building a life, caring for others, and doing what needed to be done.  

We were often exhausted.

The love was always there.

The time and energy were not.

And now, for the first time in a long time, we're finding our way back to the playful, affectionate, carefree version of us that we remember so well.

Choosing each other intentionally as we always have.

And now that we find ourselves turning gray, with so much of our life behind us, there is a special kind of joy in looking toward the future together.

One of the greatest gifts of this season is watching our children begin to imagine the lives they will build for themselves.

I don’t have grand expectations for what their lives should look like.

I only hope they find what we found.

A person who feels like home.

A life that brings them peace.

And a place where they can be fully themselves.

If they find that, I’ll be happy.

As for us, I look forward to whatever comes next.

As long as life allows, I hope we continue doing what we’ve done since we were sixteen years old.

Growing together.

You are always welcome here.

WGG