On a bright, crisp day exactly 35 years ago yesterday, Ray and I were married. It was the late 70s, when formal weddings were so last week. I wore a long knit dress I’d owned for years and a garland in my hair made by Thomas Hobbs (locals will know the caché there). Ray wore a brand new navy suit, the best he’d ever owned.
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He looked fabulous. We both loved classical music. Our biggest investment in our wedding was Handels’s Largo, Panis Angelicus (Bread of Angels) and Ave Maria sung by the best voice we could afford. My parish singer was accompanied by our parish harpist and organist. We had no official photographer, just happy snaps taken by whoever had a camera. We didn’t cut a cake, we cut a beautifully dressed baked salmon. (if I can find some photos, I’ll add them later)It was a close family and friends party followed precipitously by normal life. And that’s what Ray and I had — a “normal” life. We built a business and a family and experienced the highs and lows, the losses and the wins that any family experiences. We had the best friendship in the world, wrapped up in a loving marriage.  It was cut just a bit too short. We missed that last third of the curve, the gentling down of stress and busyness towards a more relaxed time to rediscover each other again. But it was a life together that I know was enviable. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had it.

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