Lessons from Mom and Dad — The Greatest Love Story Ever Told
“The best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.” — John Wooden
Coffee Talk
A few months back, my best friend and I snagged a corner booth at a local cafe. We nursed a couple of green teas as an army of clouds began to besiege the city.
The two of us brought each other up to speed on the happenings in and around our lives; some trivial, some not so much.
The normally comfortable silence between us was filled with a nervous angst I couldn’t quite place. My friend looked uneasy as he sat twirling his thumbs.
“Will you be my best man?” he finally piped up.
That’s what he couldn’t say? I thought.
“I’d be honored,” I told him.
Since that rainy morning, I’ve spent weeks drafting a speech for his wedding night. I’ve seen enough best man speeches go south to know those heartfelt prose can’t be left to the improv gods.
I’ve thought a lot about our 25-year friendship and the man he’s become since our paths first crossed in a raucous school cafeteria. I still marvel at how a once shy and uncertain boy grew into a person of unshakeable character and kindness.
I like to think, however presumptuous, I may have lent a hand in that evolution.
In many ways, his partnership with his soon-to-be wife reminds me of the one between my parents; a 40-year friendship that has become what I believe to be the greatest love story ever told.
Learning Love is Not Enough
Many years ago after a breakup, I met my father for dinner one evening. He was in New York for work and asked if we could grab a bite to eat before he left for California the following day.
We always met on Theater Row on 46th Street. My dad loved the simple, no frills Italian restaurants that lined the street. The irreverent wait staff and uninspired risotto somehow made us feel right at home.
After a few years of sitting huddled over a checkered table cloth nibbling stale bread, I realized I was getting to know my father for the first time. It turned out moving away from home had brought me closer to being the son I always longed to be. I could no longer run from my frailties or his inability to inquire about them.
At 25 years old, there was finally nowhere for either of us to hide.
It was that bareness that allowed me to open up about the failure of my 3-year relationship. I was searching for answers, desperately trying to figure out how two people could love one another so much and still fail to share it in communion.
“But I love you,” I cried in a last attempt to make her stay.
“I love you too,” she said. “But it’s not enough anymore.”
It took me nearly 5 years to understand what she meant, and even longer to appreciate she was right.
In time, I learned love alone can’t hold two people together. It needs help. If love is the light than friendship is the path. And nobody knew that better than my father.
Friendship First
“You know, Nick,” my father said. “As you get older in life, intimacy and appearance become less important. What does matter is the friendship you have with someone and your mother has always been my best friend,” he told me.
His advice was poignant, even groundbreaking. Most of the guidance he’d offered to that point was not insignificant but rarely about matters of the heart.
But perhaps the greatest lesson he’s entrusted has been devoid of prose and full of action.
His 40-year marriage to my mom is a masterpiece; a canvas rife with colors both bright and dark, lines that run straight and crooked, all guided by strokes of hard work, sacrifice, and respect for one another.
And though there is no handbook for the perfect marriage, I’ve managed to mentally jot down a cheat sheet of what makes theirs work…
Stop Me if You’re Heard this One…
They laugh together. A lot. Sometimes the humor is strange, or even at the light-hearted expense of the other. But it reminds them life is short, partnerships shorter, and neither worth taking too seriously.
No Empty Hands
Whether ambling aimlessly on the beach or crossing a busy street, they practice what young couples once preached; they still hold hands. Showing affection, however seemingly insignificant, is still an act of love.
My parents taught me that reaching for your partner’s hand is more symbolic than anything else. It’s a way of acknowledging no matter how the road bends or narrows they forge ahead together.
Practicing a Lost Art
The most important part of their relationship has sadly become a lost art among most. I’m talking about authentic listening.
My parents always hear the other out, even when they disagree. They listen with an intent to understand however foreign the opposing point of view may be.
Their relationship is strong enough where their desire to show a reverence for the other’s presence transcends their individual need to be right. When each person is heard fully and deeply, respect outshines the need for consensus.
Meeting in the Middle
In all the marriages I’ve seen truly thrive, one of the cornerstones has been allowing each person to live their lives independently; a union founded on the belief that in order for two people to shine together they must ultimately flourish on their own.
Friendships, interests, and even long walks need not always be shared. In fact, it’s often better if they aren’t. Those moments of solitude give way to a deepening of one’s own understanding of self, which allows those very discoveries to be shared together.
Globetrotting
If I took a globe and spun it around before randomly stopping it with my index finger, there’d be a better than average chance my folks had their passport stamped there.
Giving yourself over to the customs, cuisine, and culture of another land is one of the most rewarding experiences imaginable. Whether gazing up at an endless Montana sky or walking the Great Wall, each adventure deepens one’s understanding of the world. And when that understanding is cultivated alongside your “number one,” all the lessons, joys, and setbacks of those times become shared stories enriched over time.
My parents have a mental scrapbook of rich experiences they’ve stumbled through together. They reminisce about the places they’ve seen and the people whose paths they crossed with a youthful glow that inspires them to do it again and again.
Two Can Be Better
Years ago, when stammering through an explanation on why I needed to be alone, I told my girlfriend I needed to “figure things out.” She responded without judgment but instead with an inquiry that still stumps me to this day.
“Why can’t we figure things out together?” she asked.
My parents’ relationship has been the embodiment of that question. Only they’ve had the courage not to sidestep the answer. Their marriage is proof that you can.
But what makes their partnership so special is at its root is a genuine friendship. There is a commitment to consistently bringing out the best in one another, and an inherent belief that the best partners also make the best of friends.
