True love has neither labels nor limits -- Marriage is precious to everyone

Paula Simons, The Edmonton Journal

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Call me a Valentine's Day romantic, but I'm a sucker for a really good wedding.

In fairy tales, weddings always come at the end of the story: "And they lived happily ever after."

But in real life, the wedding is just the opening chapter, the start of the adventure. The joys, the sorrows, the frustrations and the challenges don't end when the caterer sweeps up the cake crumbs. Throwing a big party is one thing. Building a life together is another.

If you're married, being a guest at a really good wedding gives you a kind of vicarious chance to renew your own vows, to take a moment to remember and reflect on the way your marriage has evolved over time. When I say, a really good wedding, I'm not talking about a wedding with the fanciest food or the biggest band. I'm talking about a wedding where the love the bridal couple shares radiates, so the guests feel warmed by its glow. At a really good wedding, the couple don't act like the stars of a play, or kings and queens for a day. They're gracious hosts, extending their hospitality to you. I went to such a wedding last month, when my second-cousin, Kristy, married her best-beloved, Chris.

It was a jolly family gathering in the Riverdale community hall, where the guests ranged from infants and toddlers to great-aunts and grandparents. The couple chose a skating party theme, and the big, sunny hall was cleverly decorated with silver snow flakes and colourful mittens. We dined on chili and drank hot chocolate, and when the lunch and the speeches were over, guests were invited to skate on the rink or romp in the snowy playground. It was a splendid, inclusive party, as warm and generous in spirit as Kristy and Chris.

But there was a little something else which gave this wedding special an extra fillip of poignant romance.

Chris, you see, is short for Christine. And she and Kristy wed just five days after the election of Stephen Harper's Conservative government. Though the timing was coincidental -- the wedding date was set before the election began -- the possibility that the new government will put a stop to ceremonies such as this was was present in everyone's mind.

So they were wed, in a simple religious ceremony, surrounded by friends and family, including some who weren't always so enthusiastic about the notion of same-sex marriage. But when it's your daughter, your grand-daughter, your niece, getting married, it's not about ideological hypotheticals. It's about love. And on this day, love conquered all.

As I've been thinking back on Chris and Kristy's wedding, I've been thinking too about what the same-sex marriage revolution means to those of us with old-fashioned hetero marriages.

At a same-sex wedding, there are no brides and grooms, no husbands and wives. There are just two individuals, two best friends, swearing to be true to each other, to support each other, to love each other till the end of their lives.

Same-sex spouses get the liberating luxury of living together without being locked into traditional gender roles.

Surely, that's what all great marriages should be -- the joyous coming together of two people who love each other, who commit to make their lives together. Partners, in the very best sense.

That's the great blessing of the whole messy public debate over same-sex unions, the chance for us to strip our definition of marriage, down to its bare essentials.

What does marriage really mean? A thousand little things, different for every couple.

It means buttering each other's toast in the morning and rubbing each other's feet in front of the TV at night. It means worrying over RRSP contributions and mortgages and car payments. It means being by your partner's bedside when he or she wakes up from surgery or taking turns rocking a sick child through the night.

It means feeling safe enough to lose your temper, to yell and stomp and swear and know you will be forgiven. It means having someone to talk to, someone who understands your dreams, accepts your failings and still pushes and inspires you to be your best.

It means the passion of two bodies meeting on a cold winter night under down-filled quilts, giddy young lovers again, varicose veins and grey hairs forgotten in the dark. It means having someone to cry with, to help carry the burden of grief, when grief inevitably comes. It means finding the patience to listen to the same tired old jokes and stories again, and again --and sometimes, even finding them funny.

Husband, wife, gay, straight, none of that jargon matters. What matters is the love, the commitment, the courage to launch out on the adventure of life together and stay the course.

And so, today, on Valentine's Day, I thank all my gay friends and relatives and neighbours for pushing us to think about what marriage really means. By fighting so hard for their own right to marry, they've forced the rest of us to stop taking marriage for granted. They've reminded us all how important, how difficult, how precious marriage really is. I thank them for giving new grace to a hoary, oft-mocked institution -- for showing us all a fresh way to look at love, beyond labels, beyond limits.

psimons@thejournal.canwest.com

© The Edmonton Journal 2006