On June 8th, 2008 I woke up early on a couch bed in my mom’s hotel room.

I walked to the adjacent mall and had my makeup done. I drove to a golf course and got my hair done.

With my mom and sisters holding up the sides, I put on an ivory dress.

I took a thousand pictures and then I walked, holding my father’s arm, down the aisle and held hands with you, my best friend, my fiance.

And then there was a blur of prayers in English and Hebrew, we poured sand into a container and put rings on each others index fingers.

And then, we said some vows and we were married.

We were married.

Around this same time two years ago, you were still a year away from being a doctor, you were still working in clinics as a student, you were still struggling for your good evaluations, worrying about residencies, just trying to make it to the next May. This weekend we went out to dinner and you, a doctor, took phone calls and gave medical advice to parents who called after hours.

I know it sounds silly, but in the past 2 years, I think I got the privilege of watching you go from being an adolescent to being a true grown up. And I love the man you have become just as I loved the young man you were before.

This second year of marriage has been anything but easy. If you ask me, it was tougher than the first year. Yes, we fought with each other less, but I think we fought the world more this year.

I don’t have to remind you that there have been tears, tests, medical bills, and more trials and tribulations than anyone’s marriage deserves in a year, you’ve been there, you’ve felt it all. I hate what this year has been and I hate all that you’ve had to deal with. I sometimes struggle to understand how you’ve stood by me, how you’ve managed to forgive me for things I’ve said, how you’ve offered a shoulder to cry on when it is perpetually damp from my tears.

The only thing that has been consistent through this mess is you. I have accused you of not being supportive enough, but the truth is, you’re doing your best and I know that. Sometimes I need someone to blame, that often unfairly ends up being you. I’m sorry for that. I know that this isn’t the life you signed up for.

When I wake up in the morning and see you asleep next to me, with every square inch of the comforter tucked around you like a cocoon, I feel cold hope. On the days I want to give up, stay home and become a hermit, I see you, I see the life we planned, the one we want and I get up again, and I try harder. You are what has kept me going. You are the strength that everyone compliments me for having. It’s you. It’s all you.

Thank you for loving me in spite of it all. In sickness and in health. In the good times and the really bad ones. For being my friend first, my inspiration, for being my husband. For being you.

I heard a song (okay fine, it was on Glee) a few weeks back and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. At first all I heard was the bitter undertones, but the more I listened, the more I heard little bits of us in it.

One life
with each other…
One life
but we’re not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One life

I know that this one life hasn’t been what you imagined, or planned or hoped for.

But thank you for carrying me through it anyway.

Happy Anniversary.

I love you more than you’ll ever know.

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