Sixty and beyond

My parents recently celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. It is a feat for two polar opposites to reach such a milestone. 

My father indulges in news, sports and political analysis, while my mother binges on K-dramas and is a social media enthusiast. He is reflective, she is chatty. He sings like a pro, she couldn’t carry a tune. At this stage of their life, my father remains a homebody, save for his trips to the market, while my mother enjoys fluttering like a social butterfly. She dresses for comfort, he goes for style. She dresses up in five minutes, he needs at least 30. 

My siblings and I used to wonder (and still do) how our parents managed to live together for 60 years. If their longevity as a couple were to be analyzed, we, their children, relatives, friends and their grandchildren would each have loads of anecdotal evidence and could formulate diverse hypotheses on their staying power. They best exemplify what the phrase “unity in diversity” means.  

Their thanksgiving and anniversary mass was co-celebrated by my cousin, Fr. Edmon Benzon, and my childhood friend, Fr. Gerald Borja at the monastery of the sisters of Poor Clare in Sorsogon. Fr. Edmon weaved in bits and pieces of stories he knew about his Tito Jun and Tita Nening with the gospel message that centered on the wedding at Cana. Fr. Gerald, on one hand, lifted up the desires of their heart and wished for their good health as he recited the prayers of the faithful. For a couple whose number of friends is in the hundreds, an attendance of about 90 guests – mostly composed of family and relatives – at church and at the reception that followed, was considered intimate.  

Two months before the event, Mother Magda, the mother abbess of Poor Clare’s, sent me the details of the liturgy. Like a good number of Filipinos, some of us in the family have become part of the global diaspora, so I requested Mother Magda to pray for safe travels, smooth preparations and good weather, meaning no rain during the event. 

We joked that we must have prayed too much because it was searing hot on their thanksgiving mass, further aggravated by a 12-hour Sorsogon-wide power outage. In a province like ours that boasts of an immense sports complex inspired by Rome’s Colosseum and robust infrastructure projects, black outs, water shortages or worse, chocolate-colored water flowing out from the tap, are no longer a wonder. The latter particularly, has become part of the people’s daily ordeal, my parents included, I assume they have remained true to their promise and must have expanded their vows to stay together “in days without power, in weeks without water.” And while generator power saved the day, a sense of frustration was quite palpable, especially mass was celebrated at 3 p.m. when temperature was at its peak.  

But people can be forgiving and patient because they were witnessing a wedding of two 84-year-olds who, at their renewal of vows, professed: “Lord, before your altar 60 years ago, we promised to love each other and to abide by your will in our married life. Today, full of happiness we come back to your presence. We give thanks for the many blessings you have bestowed on us the past years. Once more we pledge loyalty to each other and to you and your church. Once more we take each other for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.”

My parents were initially hesitant to celebrate and have a party. But we insisted, they should have one. We’re glad they acceded because on the day Mother Magda and I met to discuss the ceremony, I felt her spirit of gladness. Mother Magda explained why it was important to rejoice. As the Catholic Church commemorates the Jubilee of Hope, a diamond wedding is a source of merriment. Like all holy sacraments of the church, it must be offered in thanksgiving, in joyous celebration. The rites of matrimony, when vows are renewed, serve as an inspiration, especially for the young, to model from the lives of married couples, much more for couples that remain married for 60 years. I thought of my own children, my nieces and nephews, who attended with their partners. Will my parents’ witness leave a lasting imprint on them? Amidst the influence of the modern world, will they, like their grandparents, one day believe in a marriage that lasts?

In his book, “Love for Imperfect Things,” Haemin Sunim wrote, “Listening is an act of love.” My daughter once asked my mother, “What’s the secret to your long marriage grandmy?” My mother replied that when she and my father argue and she hears something contrary to her opinion, she pretends to not hear or totally ignores what he says. For my mother, “not listening is an act of love.” As to my father, I surmise that he is constantly guided by a line from the letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians: “He who loves his wife loves himself.” 

Like all marriages, my parents’ marriage is an imperfect one, as my siblings and I have witnessed all these years. But it’s all because of their imperfections and incompatibilities that their partnership endures.

My parents’ diamond anniversary reminded me of one of the last transcripts Pope Francis wrote before he died: “On Tango and Lasting Marriage.” He said: “Believe in love, believe in God and believe that you are capable of taking on the adventure of a love that lasts a lifetime. Love wants to be permanent; ‘until further notice’ isn’t love. We humans have the desire to be accepted without reservations, and those who do not have this experience often – unknowingly – carry a wound for the rest of their lives. Instead, those who enter into a union lose nothing, but gain everything: life at its fullest.”