Marriage
Kidney stones hurt. Love is better.
If you have read my works before, you have seen me mention my wife. She is so cool, and I love her deeply for it. We got married in 2018 and have had ups, downs, and both at the same time. Marriage is a journey, work, fun, annoying, love, laughs, a few tears, and more. I do not want this to be marriage advice as I have received some and wished that person out of my life. I do not want to do the same to you. With that said, here is a reflection on marriage. Maybe something can shine a light for you. What prompted me to write this was my wife next to me from the early morning hours to late-night yawns. I am on the tail end of a kidney stone journey, hopefully ending in my toilet really soon.
Having kidney stones is difficult. The journey is rocky. Mine is 4.6mm big. Sadly, my American mind does not know what that means. I have no perspective. Thankfully, the pain has become bearable in the last few days. At the time of this writing, I have not taken the prescribed pain killer in almost 48 hours. Her presence in the car, three different times in the local emergency room, in the Walmart line, and parking lots has been a joy. I am almost one foot taller than her. She is small next to me. But it is through these times and more where she has the strength to hold me. I am a blessed person to have her in my life.
We met in graduate school in Hartford, CT in 2017. She walked into Global Ethics with a white hijab, white, light sweater, washed denim jeans, white loafers with gold rhinestones of various shapes with a notebook in hand and bag hanging from her shoulder. The class was in a seminar style. I planned one hundred scenarios of how I would talk with her. Luckily for me, as days turned into weeks, we ended up chatting. My first attempt was a joke that never got off the ground. I did see her in the library a lot with some of her friends. I thought, “I could play the library card.” Two people turned into two classmates and eventually friends.
When my paternal grandmother was still alive, she found her last home in an elderly residence close to where my family and I lived. She took care of herself fairly well until her last days. Bless my little brother. He did much of her shopping and helped out with the laundry. She otherwise handled it. I would meet other residents in the building here and there. One day, I was waiting alone for my father near the security guard and an elderly Spanish woman. I knew the security guard, as she was usually on shift during visits. We exchanged pleasantries before they inquired about my romantic life. When I told them I wasn't in a relationship, they shared a piece of wisdom that would stay with me. They encouraged me to marry my best friend. Both women had lost their husbands, I mean their best friends—years ago. Though their families had suggested they find love again, the resident looked at me and asked with eyes full of saudade, "How could you do that to your best friend?" My grandmother would say the same thing. That hit.
Here I am now, with a kidney stone somewhere in my body, yet to fall out. I have been holding her and thanking her randomly for the last five-plus days. Marriage is the dopamine that keeps me going. And like any inducer of dopamine, you will always need more. I am Muslim. Islam speaks of marriage as many things, among them the dopamine hit males get from a relationship. You can move from one hit to the next or play by the rules and dig deep. It also forces both parties to really consider if the commitment is worth it. In Islamic Law, marriage contracts fall under general contract law but with the caveat of love that livens that piece of paper.
This woman who often sits across from me has done much to help me be better. I am a man thanks to her. I am a lover in a different sense because of her. She held me through a panic attack or two, surgery that got me nowhere, deaths of close family members in Syria due to the fourteen-year war, celebrations of work, rough days, and more. We have shared thousands of miles together and many cups of specialty coffee. Our eyes watched the same movies and shows throughout the years with laughs and chuckles in between. There have been a few profound conversations in there.
What is marriage? I listed out a few things in the opening paragraph. Marriage is that and more. I used to marry people and really enjoyed the experience. Reflecting on this, I realize that I should have shared that marriage is a commitment. Yes, this paper I signed years ago is categorized like a contract you signed before. Love is the glue and fuel that keeps it going. Love is the thing that gives that paper life. Put love in commitment and see where it takes you. I get flashes of what my grandmother and those two Spanish women experienced. The time pushing a kidney stone outside of my body adds to it. She is my homie. I pray I am worthy of her and follow through with it. I do not want to fail her because how could you do that to your best friend?
I put this out in podcast form. For your listening pleasure:
