The Journey Inward

Yesterday was my parents’ anniversary. Were they both alive, it would have been their 64th. My mom outlived my dad by 20 years, so this was their first anniversary reunited. I wondered a lot yesterday about what it would be like.

I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of Heaven. I’ve always hoped there is one. I’ve pictured a magical place where everyone returns to their essence. Where there is no pain, there are no grudges, no anger, no pettiness, no conflict.

Pink has a song called “When I Get There” about her dad. It’s been a bit of a constant companion for me since hearing it recently. It’s made me think so much about my newly deceased mom and long deceased dad and what their life together might look like now.

Here on Earth, my parents didn’t do much to celebrate their anniversary. They didn’t go out to dinner. They didn’t make a special meal. I don’t remember much that marked the day. Except for my dad’s cards. My dad would spend a tremendous amount of time in the card aisle searching for just the right endearment for his wife. Not prone to sentimentality or PDA in every day life, I always looked forward to these cards as an affirmation that my parents really did love each other. They almost always had whimsical cartoon animals on them, usually holding hearts or dressed in hearts, and usually bears or dogs. In addition to the words that seemed to be just right in conveying his sentiment, he added his own words of appreciation in his beautiful handwriting. I’m not sure if my mom reciprocated.

The picture here was taken at my sister’s wedding in 1991. My parents loved to dance and in this moment of twirling, my mom is laughing and beaming. It is a mental picture I’ve carried with me since capturing it. On this reunion anniversary, I hope they laughed. I hope they reminisced about falling in love. I hope they thought about the family they raised together. I hope they exchanged cards. And I hope they danced. With joy and love.

Photo: 10.13.91. Morristown, NJ. By LA