Devotion

n: the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal

My parents, Harry and Bonnie Elliott, on their wedding day, Jan. 20, 1979.

The date Jan. 20, 2019, marked what would have been my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. My parents, Harry and Bonnie, had a complicated relationship, but the vow they took to love one another remained steadfast until they were parted by my mother’s death in November 2003.

The story I was told was that my parents met in a bar. It’s not as noble or moral as meeting at church, per se, but it always made sense to me. I was neither surprised nor ashamed—my dad enjoyed his beer and they were both fond of socializing.

When they met, they had both been divorced and my dad had a daughter, my sister Kerry, from his first marriage. I was told my parents had a short engagement, and there was no romantic proposal. My mom recalled that my dad just casually suggested they get married—and so they did.

They had a very small ceremony in my grandparents’ living room, despite my beloved Grandpa Hank not being fond of my dad. To be fair, it’s likely that no one would have been good enough for my mother, as she was an only child. He and my dad always butted heads, but I think they came to an understanding later in life.

Easter Sunday, 1980.

I was born about 14 months after their wedding and I was their only child. I remember my early childhood as generally happy, but my parents argued. They were both strong personalities and had short tempers. It probably didn’t help that my dad like to drink.

He was a truck driver for a construction company and worked long, hard hours. He never got sick days or vacation time, and was often laid off during the winter. My mom stayed home with me, mainly because I had severe asthma and was hospitalized many times from the ages of four to twelve. Money was tight during those early years (my medical bills didn’t help), and there was at least one year when we received government assistance.

But they had a shared love for civic engagement. My dad was a member of the local Elks lodge and my mom was a Lady Elk. They did a lot of volunteering and loved going out together for social events. They made friends easily and loved to entertain.

I do remember my parents doing small, special things for one another. My dad once got a little bit of extra money in a paycheck and he used it to buy roses for my mom. She packed his lunches each night and made sure the coffee pot was ready to go. He let my mom get a cat (who turned out to love him more than my mom or me). They both made each other laugh.

One of the funniest things my dad did for my mom, on at least three occasions, was to post a “Happy Birthday” message for her on signs that were stationed on the main highway. It could be called “Three Billboards Outside of Negaunee, Michigan.” My mom didn’t much care for the entire county knowing how old she was, but I knew it was an outward symbol of my dad’s love for her.

As the years went by, my health problems improved significantly and my mom went back to work full-time. Their financial situation stabilized and so did their marriage. For a few good years, they really seemed to enjoy one another. They traveled to support my school activities and we liked to eat out.

Throughout these years, my mom was dealing with increasing health issues of her own and by 2000, she was becoming sicker. Her mobility became limited and she was forced to leave her job. By the time my dad retired in 2002, she was walking with a cane, but still tried to do what she could.

Between taking my mom to clinic appointments, my dad drove her to the area casinos. They both enjoyed the slot machines and it was something they could do together now that I was living on my own.

Mother's Day, 1999. They were happy.

By 2003, my mom’s health was declining rapidly and I could see that my dad was scared. Scared to lose her, scared to live without her. He did everything he could to help her and to support her and to let her know that he was going to be by her side until the end. And he was.

Unfortunately, despite being strong for my mom, my dad struggled a lot on his own after she passed away. And his own mounting health issues didn’t help. Eventually, my sister and I transitioned him to the local VA facility, where he lived for nearly five years until he passed away on New Year’s Day 2015.

So as I reflect on their relationship 40 years after they were first married, I’m thinking about them in a whole new way. I’m now older than both of them when they took those vows and I have been married myself for nearly 10 years.

My dad had the chance to know my husband and, like most dads do, threatened to do bodily harm if he ever mistreated me. By the time I introduced the two of them, however, my dad was in the early stages of dementia and often repeated himself. I so wish my husband could have known my dad as he had once been; they did share a quick sense of humor.

My parents taught me early on marriage can be difficult, and I acknowledge that as my husband and I go through our day-to-day. I inherited my dad’s quick temper and my husband is super easygoing, so we clash sometimes. During those times, I try to remind myself how very lucky I am to have found that same devotion. I know my husband is by my side no matter what. And I hope he knows I’m there for him, too.

One of our last family trips in June 2002. We stopped at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum on our way home from a wedding. My dad pushed my mom in her wheelchair throughout the museum and around the grounds.

As painful as it has been to lose both of my parents, it comforts me to know they were together until the end. On that last day, my dad told my mom how much he loved her. And she knew that, and she knew that he had done the very best he could.

That’s all any of us can do. I’ve learned, as most do, that life isn’t always fair. But my parents taught me, and continue to teach me, to press on. Do your best, stay close to the ones you love and always keep your promises.

And I hope they’re together again, whispering to me to tell my husband how much I love him and to show him in every moment.