Happy Anniversary to My Late Husband

January 30, 1982

Sydney, Friday, January 30

On January 30, 1982, my husband Gary and I were married in Darien, Connecticut.  Gary died on August 2, 2003, in Sydney, Australia.  Today would have been our 27th wedding anniversary. 

There are marker dates with every death:  birth date, death date, and all the dates in between that hold special memories.  I believe I share a view with others who have been widowed after a happy marriage that the date of one’s wedding anniversary is one of the most meaningful, because that date is most of all about the couple.

Red-eye and Racquetball

Gary and I met in May 1981, at a singles racquetball party in Stamford, Connecticut.  I almost didn’t go.  I’d just returned that morning from a business trip on the red-eye from San Francisco, I felt tired and grungy, and my hair felt dirty.  The last thing I wanted to do was wash it and go out again.

My friends kept saying, “You have to make an effort.  Mr. Right is not going to ring your doorbell and say ‘here I am’.” 

I was in a period when I was trying to meet more people.  I loved my job and in my 20’s was already a workaholic.  But I knew my friends were right, and I’d read ‘you should do what you like to do, to meet people.’  So I had joined a singles group that played tennis and racquetball.

I was getting tired of ‘trying’ and close to going back to the ‘if it’s meant to be, it will be’ approach to meeting men.  But I forced myself to go to yet another gathering of mostly older, mostly divorced single professionals with whom I usually had little in common.

Midnight Magic

When I walked into the racquetball centre, I saw no-one who looked under 40.  I figured I’d at least get some exercise, and went on and off the courts for the next several hours, playing with different partners.

At almost midnight, I sat down at the bar and noticed a young-ish looking male at the far end.  I hadn’t seen him before and had only a profile view:  brown hair, straight nose, and straight teeth that showed when he smiled, which he did often.

After a few minutes, he got up and walked down the length of the bar, towards me.  I was struck by his calm, his utter lack of pretentiousness, and the way he slowly and directly made his way to where I was sitting.  He didn’t laugh or joke with others, or look around the room, or pretend he was doing anything other than coming over to stand beside me, smile, look into my eyes, and say, “I know it’s late, but would you like to play a game before they close?”

We had a friendly game and short chat afterwards.  I can’t say it was love at first sight, and I don’t think it was for him, either.  But there was a definite ‘this is positive’ feeling on both sides.  He walked me to my car and asked if he could call.  I said yes, and he did.

Tennis and Travel Files

We played tennis on our first date, a week later.  He invited me back to his place afterwards, where I met his son, of whom he had full custody.  They had an aging cocker spaniel named Freckles and a male cat named Goliath.

That day we also discovered we were both avid readers and travellers.  We each had travel files for Paris, London, England, Switzerland, Alaska, Africa, and Australia.

Not only did we have the same travel destination interests, inside our files we had many of the same articles, clipped 5 and 10 years earlier from the New York Times Sunday travel section.  Our Africa files had almost identical contents.

Husband, Child, Dog, Cat, House

We dated throughout the summer, and became engaged on October 1.  Our wedding in late January was a small ceremony in a Presbyterian chapel.  We went to Kenya on our honeymoon, designing our own itinerary which included two independent photo safaris and a number of places from our travel files.

In spring after we returned from Africa, we bought our first house.  We moved in in early May, 1982, less than a year after we met.

Gary was sensitive and supportive throughout our marriage, never more than in the early months when I was adjusting to being a stepmother.  He told me often he loved and appreciated me, and would say to others, “In less than a year, Carolyn got a husband, child, dog, cat, and house.”

It may sound a lot, but it wasn’t hard at all.  I felt then, and for the next twenty-one and a half years, that I was the lucky one.

I’m Still the Lucky One

Today is Gary’s and my anniversary date, but I can’t write about it without also acknowledging the second love of my life, my partner Clive.

Clive is not a widower, but has the sensitivity and thoughtfulness of one.  This morning he asked, “Is there anything special you’d like to do today?”  I told him I wanted to write this post, and asked if he’d read it before I publish it online.

Thank you, Clive.  And Happy Anniversary, Gary. 

Gary