65 years ago, on June 7, my in-laws married. He was 20. She was 17. They lived in the same small town most of their married life, raising two boys, working in various occupations, attending church regularly, and doing all of the things that good people like them manage to do. They just lived their lives the way they thought they were supposed to.
These two exemplified commitment. To each other, to their children, to their grandchildren, to their great-grandchildren. To their extended family. To their jobs. To their church. To their friends. To their community.
On June 2, 2017, my sweet mother-in-law passed away. In the more than 36 years that I was her daughter-in-law, we never had a cross word. She was kind. She and I didn’t always look at things the same way, but we never argued. She was an amazing cook. She was devoted to her family. In her last days, what was her advice? “Be good to each other.” “Love each other.” Translated: “Be committed to each other. Take care of each other.”
Two months later, on Aug. 2, my dear father-in-law passed away. No advice to give us, but we know he’d want the same. He was such a charmer, with a personality that drew others to him. He was funny. He loved old westerns on TV and game shows. He loved his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. But most of all he loved his “baby.” He was lost without her. His cancer took him, but his grief made him willing to go.
Their life together was not perfect, and they never would have said it was. But it was good. It was solid. It was real.
It was a life of commitment.
Life As I know it 