Think of it as Yoga for the brain, we are going to stretch a bit.
Turning Thirty Five and Marriage
A few weeks before my thirty fifth birthday, I found myself sitting in Uncle Bob’s garden.
He was watering his tomatoes.
I wasn’t saying much.
He noticed.
“Something on your mind?”
I nodded.
“I turn thirty five in a couple weeks.”
“So?”
“I thought I’d have life figured out by now.”
He laughed.
“If you meet someone who has life figured out at thirty, introduce me. I’d like to ask them a few questions.”
I smiled.
“It’s more than that.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve been thinking about Melissa.”
“The girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“You love her?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“But marriage scares me.”
“What else?”
I looked down.
“Grandma.”
His smile disappeared.
“The doctors don’t sound very optimistic.”
He quietly sat down across from me.
For a minute neither of us spoke.
Finally he said, “Every soul will taste death.”
I looked at him.
“The Qur’an says that. It doesn’t say some souls. It doesn’t say old souls. It says every soul.
“We all get our turn.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“You won’t.”
I looked confused.
“You’ll lose her body someday.”
“You’ll never lose what she put inside you.”
He looked toward the roses.
“Your grandmother taught you kindness. She taught you patience. She taught you family.”
“Death can’t take those away.”
We sat quietly for another minute.
“You know,” he finally said, “the tragedy isn’t that life ends.”
“What is it then?”
“The tragedy is that so many people never truly begin living.”
I stared at him.
“So many people spend their whole lives preparing to live. They’ll travel… someday. ”
“They’ll get married… someday. They’ll have children… someday. They’ll start the business… someday.”
“Then someday runs out.”
I nodded.
“Your Lucky… You know, a few years ago, thirty-five was considered middle age. Most people never lived much past seventy, if they made it that far. People in their twenties were in a hurry to get married because life seemed short. By the time they reached their sixties, they had one eye on the calendar and the other on the clock.”
“You know… I’ve made plenty of mistakes.”
He laughed. “So have I. Much bigger than yours…”
“Don’t be afraid of making mistakes. Be afraid of never living.”
He leaned toward me. “If you’re sure about the girl…”
“I think I am.”
“No.” He smiled. “I didn’t ask if you think. “I asked if you’re sure.”
I thought about it. “I am.”
“Then marry her.”
“So simple?”
“Pretty much.”
“What if something goes wrong?”
He shrugged.
“Something always goes wrong.”
“What if we struggle?”
“You probably will.”
“What if I fail?”
“You probably will.”
“What if I make the wrong decision?”
“You’ll make hundreds of wrong decisions.”
He smiled.
“But if you’ve found someone worth building a life with, don’t waste years waiting for perfect.”
“You know what I’ve never heard an old man say?”
“What?”
“I wish I had loved less. ‘I wish I had never married the woman I truly loved. ‘I wish I had never had my children.”
He shook his head.
“What I hear is… ‘I waited too long. I was too afraid. I thought I had more time.
He looked me straight in the eyes.
“If you don’t do it… You’ll regret it.”
He changed the subject so quickly it caught me off guard.
“Bring her around more.”
“What?”
“Bring Melissa around.”
“She needs to spend time with the family.”
“Why?”
He laughed.
“Because she’s going to have to like us.”
“Or not.”
“But the sooner everybody figures that out, the better.”
We both laughed.
Then he became serious again.
“And there is another reason.”
“What’s that?”
“A second opinion.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re in love, you’re looking through one pair of eyes.”
“Your family has ten more. They may notice things you don’t.”
“Sometimes they’ll see red flags. Sometimes they’ll see wonderful things.”
“Either way, listen.”
“Here’s another trick. Watch how she treats people.”
“The waiter. The cashier. The janitor.”
“The elderly lady who walks too slowly.”
“The person who can’t do anything for her. That’s the real interview.”
“Why?”
“Because people are usually nicest to those they need.”
“The measure of character is how they treat the people they don’t.”
He smiled.
“Look at your grandmother. She’s kind to everyone.”
“Me…” He chuckled. “You have to earn my trust.”
“But once you have it, you’ve got it.”
He picked up the watering can.
“In this family we try to treat everyone with respect.”
“The rich. The poor. The waiter. The CEO.”
“The person cleaning the bathroom. “People are people.”
He watered another tomato plant.
“You can fake manners for a dinner. You can’t fake character for a lifetime.”
The sun was beginning to set.
I stood up.
“You know, Uncle…”
“What?”
“I came here worried about turning thirty five.”
“And?”
“I think I’m leaving excited.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
“Because life doesn’t really begin when you turn thirty.”
“When does it begin?”
“The day you stop waiting for permission to live.”
As I started walking toward my truck, Uncle Bob called out.
“Oh… one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“When you finally ask her…”
“What?”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“I probably will.”
“I know.” He laughed. “That’s why you came to see me.”
