When giving up is not an option

Instead, there were two ladies at a table nearby. Over their frappuccinos they were discussing their divorces, the marriages that preceded them and the divorces of their own parents, too.

I tried to block out what they were saying, but it was hard to not listen to the pain — the pain of abandonment in childhood, the pain of abandonment in middle age. And then they were talking about their children, split between two households, about broken dreams and dashed hopes.

In my mind, I try to imagine these same two women a dozen years ago: madly in love, wearing satin and lace, beginning new lives. Hopeful and happy, and not for one moment considering a hot summer afternoon years later, that they would be sitting in workout clothes at Barnes and Noble, talking about the logistical nightmare of shared custody.

How does that happen? How do we go from white lace and promises to a cafe conversation about broken dreams and court-ordered counseling for our children? I want to cover my ears and close my eyes and pretend that this is not the trend we see nowadays.

But sadly, in our country, marriage has fallen on hard times. Instead of being a time-honored institution blessed by God, marriage has become an option for some and a passing fancy for others. It has become a made-to-order event to fit whatever lifestyle we choose. And in so doing, we have lost the most important part of marriage — the commitment we make to our spouse and the covenant we both make to God.

In the hallway of my memories hangs a photograph, a picture I cherish with all my heart. It is a picture of a couple entering their seventh decade of life. The woman is lying in a hospital bed, dependent on life support for every breath. A man sits by her side. He holds her hand and kisses her face. He carefully takes a washcloth and wipes her feverish brow.

It is a picture of my own Mama and Daddy.

Some would call this a tragic picture because it shows what disease can do to someone’s body. That may be true, but it is also a wonderful picture because it shows what devotion can do for a marriage.

Instead of being a time-honored institution blessed by God, marriage has become an option for some and a passing fancy for others.

When Mama entered heaven, she and my Daddy had been married 42 years. A lot can happen in 42 years. Four children, ten grandchildren, miscarriages, health issues, financial worries, Daddy working a graveyard shift and Mama finding dozens of creative ways to feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger.

Forty-two years offers many reasons to give up on a marriage. But they never did.

Before my own wedding day, I asked Mama how she and Daddy stayed together. She responded quite simply, "Giving up was never an option."

Not even an option.

What they had was a marriage made for forever. A marriage built on the promises they made and the devotion they had to keep those promises. The kind of marriage that says, "I will love you even when I don't feel like loving you. I will love you when you are sick. I will love you when we have money and when we don't. I will love you forever and I will never, ever, walk away."

They had a marriage that knew you cannot afford to take time for granted. A marriage that did not assume you can neglect each other today, just this once, while we work in our own spheres, sure that we made a promise, so that when things slow down — at work, at home, with the kids — we can pick up where we left off. A marriage that never thinks, even for a day, that we are assured a dozen days more.

Marriages don't really fall apart in a big, explosive fight that ends with a door slamming shut. No, they crumble in the many moments of missed chances to nurture love. They shudder and sigh in the wake of everyday conversations that were never had, sweet kisses that were never shared, and that familiar hand not held on an ordinary summer day.

I left Barnes and Noble that afternoon with my coffee in hand. I went back to my home — with all the teens and all the noise and all the chaos that goes with everyday life — and I began to make dinner for that man I married 27 years ago. That man I love with all my heart.

And I thank God for the life we chose together, with God, where giving up will never be an option.

Therese Corsaro attends St. Mary Church, Palmdale, and teaches at St. Mary School.