August 14, 2024 would have been the 55th wedding anniversary of my parents. They passed within 3 months of each other, earlier in the year, at 92 and 85.

They weren’t the most passionate couple. Once I was born, they never traveled without me, or went on dates, or even carved out much in the way of “couple time” that I’m aware of. For many years, I judged that they weren’t pushing each other to grow as individuals, that their relationship was stagnant. 

They were, however, openly affectionate, if lightly: pecks on cheeks and lips were frequent. And they were constantly expressing their love for each other, verbally. Behind closed doors? While it certainly wasn’t discussed, they evidently had a rich sexual intimacy, right up to their final months. (The assisted living staff reported stumbling in on them on several occasions.) 

They squabbled here and there, and I even witnessed a fight as a child where Mom threw a glass to the ground, shattering it. But their commitment and rock-solid care for each other was never even a question.

When our parents die, children have an opportunity, at least, to fall in love with them in a whole new way. I learned so much more about both Mom and Dad by going through the things they left behind. I especially got a better sense of them as young adults. I even found anniversary cards, given from one to the other, saved for decades. I saw in one of them an explicit acknowledgement from Dad that they had weathered some difficult times together. Shouldn’t have been a surprise, but somehow their solidity as a couple made it seem impossible that there was ever any serious trouble.

Reflecting now on their life together, what I previously called stagnant I now name as “resting in each other’s care.” Their foundation of mutual love, respect, and care had immeasurable benefit to each of them, and to me.

I do believe that a couple who rest in each other’s care can also push each other to evolve. But this is a delicate balance, and I have come to see the foundation of steady care as a necessary ingredient to effectively support evolution. Nothing can grow without fertile soil, and a committed relationship without the reliable nourishment of each partner’s loving care for the other would be like a seedling deprived of regular sunlight and water. 

My parents were perhaps overbalanced on the side of steady care. But the model they provided me is fundamental to my deep faith in the ability of two people to stay together in love, over the long haul and through periods of growth and transformation. This faith is strong even through my own divorce. I have been grateful to draw on this well of faith in both of my marriages, and I would like to think I am a good model of faith for my wife, my children, my clients, and others.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Your love lives on in your son.

John Hoelle is a Co-Founder of Conscious Family™ Law & Mediation