Move Over, Lou!

Ten years ago today I turned to the spirit of Lou Gehrig, the late, great New York Yankee, and said, “Move over, Lou! You are no longer the luckiest man on the face of the earth. You’re yesterday’s news in that department.” The spirit of The Iron Horse looked at the beautiful woman walking down the aisle in my direction and without further ado simply surrendered his long-held title. He patted me on the back and said, “No doubt about it.” A Dodger doesn’t beat a Yankee very often; but it happened on May 10, 1996.

On that perfect spring day, I married the love of my life, the woman who had become my best friend. To me, those two appellations go hand in hand; I don’t see how another person can be “the love of our life” if they’re not our best friend. The icing on my wedding cake is that I’ve been told that I hold the same two-sided position of honor in my wife’s life.

One of most pleasing memories of that day is that I shared it with my parents. They weren’t present for my first wedding, something that I regret to this day. But they were there for this one, and they were there with joyful hearts and big smiles. They loved my wife. She won their approval at their first meeting, primarily because it was clear to my parents that she had become my best friend and genuinely cared about my well being. Oh … and she saw things a lot like my mom saw things. That helped, too.

Another pleasing memory is that of my wife’s two young sons, nattily dressed in their matching suits, walking her down the aisle to give her away to me. They were also there with joyful hearts and big smiles. Of all the pictures we have of that day, that one is a treasure.

My wife and I only had 18 months of “normal” married life before her youngest son, Danny, was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia in November 1997. We then went through a four and half year battle for Danny’s life, which we lost. In March 2002 we entered a grieving process that has gone through several phases with the passing of time; it’s a process that has no end.

When Lou Gehrig gave his famous farewell speech at Yankee Stadium on July 4, 1939, after being diagnosed with ALS, he explained why he called himself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Included in the list of reasons was the following simple tribute to his wife, Eleanor:

“When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed, that's the finest I know.” Well said, Lou. He might have been almost as lucky as me.

I watched my wife be a tower of strength for her son and show more courage than I dreamed existed. It was, indeed, “the finest I know”. Out of that experience and the grieving process that followed it a new woman, a better woman, has emerged. Fortunately, out of that experience and that process a new man, a better man, has emerged at her side. Many couples who go through the death of a child are not as fortunate. Their grieving, or lack of grief, can take them in radically different directions, so when they “emerge” they are no longer at each other’s side. We’ve read that somewhere between 50 to 75% of such couples separate and divorce.

My wife and I have survived because we are each other’s best friend. Because we are each other’s best friend, we’ve been able to keep a grip on the kind of love that I discussed yesterday – each of us has remained dedicated to the other’s growth and well being. Each of us hurts when the other is in pain; each of us rejoices when the other is joyful. Each of us looks for ways to lift and help the other. Each of us has grown in the unique mix of light and warmth that is reflected from the other. With few exceptions, our similarities are binding and our differences are complementary. We’re not perfect by any means; but we just may be perfect for each other. Best friends are like that.

Some of the inherent similarities that drew us to each other initially, things that were more undercurrents in each of us than anything manifest outwardly, came to the surface after Danny died. We believe that our truer selves broke through after years of being buried under layers of various assumed identities. It’s pretty amazing that we could have been attracted to each other through those assumed identities and then continue to be attracted to each other after laying them aside. That speaks to how similar our individual paths have been.

It’s hard to believe that a decade has passed since a vision in white walked slowly down an aisle toward two men, one seen and one unseen. It’s hard to believe that it’s been ten years since two young boys, nattily dressed in their matching suits, placed the hand of the love of my life into my hand. So much has transpired; so much has transformed. But one thing has remained constant – friendship has remained in the embrace of true love. We remain hand in hand.

We’ve been lucky – two of the luckiest people on the face of the earth. An unseen man agrees. And, so does Lou.

Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life!