The love we have leaves me speechless because much of the love he has shown me has been through his actions, so instead I will leave you with a few anecdotes that told me he was the one. 

Now, my parents did the best they could. They loved me into being. They kept me fed, housed, clothed, and prioritized my education. I know they made a lot of sacrifices for me. Still, being born and raised on the Reservation in the northern plains meant I grew up poor. We went without and there’s a lot I never got to experience. While this is certainly true, I loathe self-pity so I’m not one to dwell on what I did not have. 

When we were dating, my husband decided that we should go to Disneyland. For some, this may seem odd. I am a middle-aged woman, after all. But I had never gone to Disneyland—or anywhere remotely like it. I could not hide my childlike glee at the prospect. And so we went. The little Rez girl in me was on Cloud Nine the entire time. We rode every ride and stayed in the park from the minute it opened until the second it closed. One afternoon during our visit, I stopped and stared in awe at King Arthur’s Carousel in Fantasyland. It was full of young children riding ornately carved, gorgeously painted horses. I wanted to ride it so bad. Ray, my husband, was surprised when I got in line. I was a little embarrassed, but I quietly admitted to him that I had never ridden on a carousel before despite having always wanted to. I selected the most beautiful opalescent unicorn to ride, and when I turned around, I saw my husband sitting on a little horse next to me. Seeing him there, I’d never felt more in love. I didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment, I knew whenever he went, I would follow, and if he asked for my hand, I would graciously accept and never look back. We were the only two people on the entire planet, riding on a magic carousel in Anaheim, California.

Love shows its true face during life’s trials, too. A few months after we were married, my mother’s living situation and health took a tragic turn, and she was moved to a long-term care facility. Her doctors said she required constant medical supervision and that she could never go home. I was so thankful to have Ray by my side. He knew what to do because he had gone through similar crises with his beloved mother. Yet I had to experience the depth of his goodness. 

My mom had an elderly dog, Doug, that she could not take with her. Our lease prevented us from taking the dog, so we set about rehoming him. He was a good boy. Yes, he was a mutt, a real Rez dog, and he was old and forgetful, but he had big, soft, round puppy eyes and he loved getting pets. I’d started bringing him treats. When we took him to the vet, we got the news. We discovered that he was ill, in poor health, and in the opinion of the veterinarian, that he was suffering and would not survive rehoming. She said he had to be put down. I was heartbroken. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do it. We’d just moved my mom into a nursing home, and arrived at the realization that we would have to sell her house for her. It was a lot. 

The veterinarian asked if we would stay with Doug while he was put to sleep, so he wouldn’t be scared. He’d already lost my mom. By then, I was openly weeping. I was so bereft I could barely speak. “Yes,” I cried. They brought in an old quilt for Doug to lay on. He had some difficulty getting around, but as he plopped down on the quilt, his tail was wagging full and free. Ray and Doug had become fast friends and Doug was already attached to him. Before Doug’s vet appointment, Ray had taken him exploring all around the vet clinic. Doug peed on every tree.