Happy 70th to the parentage

Three score and 10 years ago today, a shy (I think), docile (I think) and pretty (no doubt at all!) lady entered into holy matrimony with a rather cocky (I am convinced), confident (no doubt there) and darkly handsome (any doubts at all?) gentleman. Eight years after the country gained independance, this couple agreed to give up a measure of their independence to plight their troth and tread the walk of life (no apologies to Mr. Knopfler!) together, hand in  hand.

Over the years that followed, this couple did what married couples usually do. They produced a brace of daughters,  and (rather unexpectedly, at least to the subject himself) a son, the gentleman engaged in a profession that got in the daily bread and eventually allowed him to lead a quiet, peaceful and relatively relaxed retired life. 

They also became proud and happy grandparents, and like all doting grandparents, considered the grandchildren to be better products than the children.

But this was the routine, textbook part. There was a side to this couple that is not always seen in married couples. Something that kept them glued to each other for 63 years of matrimony. And that something was not something that could be defined, articulated or expressed. One had to just...sense it.

That something was the unspoken happiness and comfort of just being together. Of things being done for each other almost automatically because each was so finely tuned to the other. That unspoken sense of knowing if something was right or not right with the other. Even when they argued with each other (have you seen two Scorpios, one a lawyer, the other a proud daughter of a feisty mother, jousting with each other? It's a sight to behold!), they still managed to keep a sense of comradeship.

Their life was not an easy one. The struggles to manage a family on a limited income, managing hereditary and acquired health conditions, the challenges of being part of extended families on both sides, all kept this couple on its toes. Their married home was tiny by any standards, and to fit in 5 people would have been a task to beat Hestia. But they managed. The coped. They not only kept the immediate family happy and well-fed, they opened the house to any number of visitors, domestic and international, and made sure they were well looked after. Mom is an excellent cook, and to her, feeding a brood is the closest to heaven.

They were not give to PDA. In fact, the gentleman asked the son to procure flowers for their 50th wedding anniversary - saying he had work to do! Needless to say, this daft enterprise was nipped in the bud and the matter addressed through some excellent staff work by the son (he called the florist and got him to deliver flowers to the lady as a "surprise by her mate").

But there were moments when their affection for each other shone through loud and clear. And never mind who saw it.

And then one Sunday evening the gentleman decided to shuffle off. Into that other dimension where we all land up eventually. The lady, outwardly a quiet doe, showed her inner steel. She coped. And continued with her routines. The marriage didn't end just because one half went walkabout. The conversations still happen - they're just more muted, more implicit, unspoken whispers under the comforting memories of their times together. 

Happy 70th mom and dad. Marriages are made in heaven. But you made your paradise right here on earth.