I’m Still Standing

Three days after my first wedding, I already knew I’d made a mistake. We had dated for four years and lived together in three different rentals. We were married in my aunt’s backyard by my rector. I wore a vintage white dress and carried my white confirmation prayer book with ribbons of flowers attached to make a delicate bouquet. I made the declaration of consent and then vowed to take him as my husband, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we were parted by death. When we saw a marriage counselor after three years of wedded stress, I struggled mightily with the idea of dissolving our marriage. My wasband accused me of being more upset about losing the marriage than him. Probably true as it was the loss of a dream of how things could be. However, external circumstances fell into place and we ended up having an extremely amicable divorce. We were on cordial terms up until his death in 2020. So I didn’t keep the promises I’d made to him, however, I have kept the vows to my current husband for thirty three years and counting. The two weddings were a mere five and a half years apart.

— KathyV