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Two True Loves Were In The Cards |
From the first moment the dance floor spotlight above his head splashed a halo of light across Russ’ face, I knew he was meant to be mine. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this feeling. Once before, when I was in my early 20s, I “knew” the instant I saw this lanky fellow kick a soccer ball, glowing in his success, that we were supposed to be together. Some people have described that meeting and our subsequent marriage as a match made in heaven, for it wasn’t but five years later that our marriage ended when he succumbed to leukemia, shortly after he turned 27.
Legend has it that you are lucky if you find love, such as we had, once in your life. I’ve known since I was a young girl and my Aunt Golda read my tea leaves, that I’d find another great love in my later years, whatever that could mean to someone only nine. I wasn’t looking for love; I just knew it would find me when the time was right.
Russ and I were at this professional singles dance for the same reason. We’d both recently ended difficult relationships and were looking to just dance and have fun. No attachments. Neither of us had ever attended a singles dance, but it seemed a safe way to “get back out into the world.” I spotted him, literally, as I walked into the country club ballroom that resembled a high school dance: men on one side, women on the other, and a few brave souls on the dance floor. He stood near a wall, two women looking up at his 6’1” frame, vying for his attention, the light capturing his radiant smile even as he seemed to be resisting their efforts. Even as I was whisked to the dance floor, I kept glancing at him. He later said he’d spotted me almost immediately, and was drawn to my lively energy. Not long after, we danced several times, waltzing gracefully as if we’d rehearsed our moves. We never exchanged anything more than first names that night, mindful that neither of us was looking to bounce into another relationship.
Three days later that same group sponsored another, less formal attired, dance. I had had no intentions of going, and neither had he. I remember being restless, moving about the house like a caged lion, and finally just threw on a dress and left. He’s a guy who lives by a routine. This was a Tuesday night and work came early for him. Even as he dressed, Russ couldn’t figure out why he felt compelled to drive across town in the rain instead of watching some TV and getting to bed by 11… his usual weekday routine.
I was in the midst of dancing when I felt “eyes on the back of my neck.” I knew before turning that he was there, watching me. That was the last dance I danced with anyone but him. Though the dance ended at midnight, we talked outside until 2 a.m.
Dancing (and fate) may have brought us together, but a dating service never would have. Our personalities are polar opposite. I am flashy, energetic Leo who loves to cook, dance, and stay up late. I am a Psychic Entertainer for corporate and social markets (although the bulk of my career has been as an entertainment journalist). He’s a grounded Capricorn, serious about his role as Director for Community Development for a city government. The number one question our friends asked us for our first five years together was, “What are the two of you doing together? You’re so different!”
What they didn’t know is that we have both expressed that we’ve been emotionally bonded since that second dance. Astrologer friends who have since charted our path say we were together in another life, and just came to this one to finish the story and to learn how to be better to one another this time around. We both believe that as well.
Three weeks after I met Russ, I wrote out on a piece of paper that I intended to marry him. I signed, dated, and sealed that message into an envelope that was then stuffed away into a piece of half-moon topped pottery my daughter had made me. That same week he presented me with a Barbra Streisand (one of my all-time favorite singers) cassette (now we’re really dated!), but it was one song in particular that he wanted me to hear. He said it was how he felt about me. The song was “On My Way To You”. The storyline is about all the trials and tribulations this woman went through, but in the end she had to go through all that in order to be the person ready to meet her mate.
Eight years later, Russ took me to dinner at one of the most romantic restaurants in Orlando. Manuels on the 28th towers above the area. A span of glass sparkles from the lights lasing across the sky from area theme parks and hotels. I knew something was up, and even thought he might propose, but marriage was something neither of us talked much about. It hadn’t been “necessary” at this stage of our lives. With dinner over, and our last glass of wine waiting, he handed me a card. Written among the mushy sentiments (he is famous for mushy cards) was a marriage proposal with a ring drawn in, because he said he knew I’d want to be included on having one designed… that nothing pre-made would be suitable.
The day we went to the jeweler’s to look at designs was stressful. Four huge books later, nothing seemed to be right. We knew we had some diamonds that had been in my mother’s wedding ring (and which had been cut especially for her by a favored family member in the late 1940s), and of course, he was buying me a diamond. He finally picked up a pen, and while saying, “I just want it to be something like the sun and moon and universe revolving around it,” he drew it out. We had the ring made just as he designed it….an expression of his love that epitomizes our relationship: unique, two worlds coming together, revolving around one another.
Now that we were engaged, getting legally married didn’t seem as urgent. We knew we’d know when to do it. About a year-and-a-half later, we decided to ask some astrology friends to pinpoint the ideal time for us to marry that would guarantee our best chances for a happy, fulfilling life together. We were given an hour window, on September 16, 2004…an historic year in Florida, not because we got married, but because of four hurricanes blasting across the state. We were married between two of them.
The possibility of yet another hurricane hurrying towards us meant we didn’t have much time to plan (besides, we’d already decided to blow our budget on a fabulous honeymoon to Paris). With only some immediate family members and a dear friend to marry us, we got married on our back porch, overlooking the pond, fountain of gurgling water, and among my flowers. The bride wore red. I’d found a lovely, summery long dress that cascaded in gentle folds and fell off my shoulders. My friend fixed my hair, and I carried a bouquet of multi-hued gerbae daisies my daughter and son-in-law sent me.
I didn’t know what music Russ had picked until I started down the staircase. At the first strains of “On My Way To You,” I started tearing badly. We made it through our short ceremony, with our friend talking about our love and coming together as only one who knew us both, could. Then Russ signaled for our official wedding dance music to begin. The power of Josh Groban singing “You Raised Me Up” reduced me to instant tears, even as we finished the song in a slow twirl climaxing to a dip.
That was nearly two years ago. As much as he and I are different, we have learned to find a path inbetween that isn’t so much compromise as it is a road that is US. Each day is filled with ways of showing how we care about one another, but no more so than the many times a day we find to tell each other how much love we have for the other.
May every marriage be as blessed.
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