Guest Post: Love And Marriage During A Pandemic

Louise and Peter, May 2020

by Louise Rush

First, a little background: my partner, Peter, and I have been together for eight years. We’ve lived together for five. In the early stages of our relationship, we talked about marriage, where it would take place, perhaps a romantic proposal. I guess all of the normal “new love” sorts of things. But once we moved in together, we moved on to different discussions. We talked about whether or not marriage was really for us. We are both divorced, but still believe in (and love) much of the symbolism of marriage, the “this is my person” feeling of it all. But Peter’s divorce firmly cemented in his mind that he’s not really a marriage guy. He shows his commitment to me every day. We have a home to spend our lives in. He’s a planner, so he plans for our future and works hard to make sure we have a good life. Although I had once looked forward to the “grand gesture” of a big, romantic proposal, I do understand and respect his views. Our life is really good, and I never doubt his love. In a relationship where we are not terribly alike in many ways, there’s some stuff you just need to let slide, and marriage was one of those for me. He loves me – we’re good. 

And then came the pandemic. I don’t know that anyone really expected this to go as it has, and we’ve each handled it in our own way. As New York slowly shut down, we began working from home. Not going anywhere. Just the two of us and our dogs, 24/7. My college-age kids, who came home to study online, decided that they were more comfortable in their dad’s bigger house. Peter is a pragmatic soul, so we now have a new retaining wall, a renovated vegetable garden, new plantings, a new cherry tree. The living room has been worked on, next is new flooring. This is how he copes with the stress. But me? I sat on my couch, ate ice cream, watched each Cuomo briefing like it was my next fix of heroin, and quietly FREAKED. OUT. I like routine and familiarity. I like readily available chicken and toilet paper. This is anarchy and chaos! 

So I would watch New York State’s Governor present a series of charts each day: net hospitalizations, net new intubations, etc. He talked about the curve, and flattening it. He talked about the new death toll. And every day that the curve didn’t flatten was so difficult. I would watch healthcare professionals, often in tears, talk about hundreds dying every day without their loved ones near. For a long time, our daily death toll in New York was close to eight hundred per day. That number was incomprehensible to me. Eight hundred people a day with no family around them. And every time I freaked out, Peter was there with my shoes in his hand, telling me “Come on, we’re going for a walk,” telling me it would all be okay sometime soon, telling me I can live without chicken. So I found chicken substitutes. I found toilet paper substitutes (you’d be surprised!) I found a place where I was almost comfortable emotionally. Everyone talks about the new normal, and I started living it. I think that COVID-19 has stripped us all down to thinking about our necessities and it’s different for every one of us. For Peter, it’s creating something good in a world where there’s a lot of sad right now. For me it’s finding a routine and a comfort zone. We were making it work.

And then (it might have been on the tenth day of eight hundred deaths per day) I fell down a new fear hole. All I could think was “If one of us gets this thing and winds up in the hospital, we have no rights. I won’t see him. No one will tell me if he’s okay or not ok… or dying. I won’t know. I won’t be the one making decisions for him. And he won’t be the one making decisions for me.” And it terrified me. And I think that every one of the eight hundred that died that day thought that they would never get this virus, it wouldn’t happen to them, they’d be okay. They’d be safe.

Peter, blissfully unaware of my fear hole, returned that evening from his basement office to find me just PUDDLE crying and trying to explain why. So he hugs me, kisses me on the forehead, tells me we’ll be fine, and goes out to do some life-affirming work on the garden. And then he returns ten minutes later and takes my hands and says, “Babe, I love you – let’s get married.” I had to laugh! Don’t talk romance to this guy but bring a pragmatic, fixable issue to the table and that man is all in! 

So we set about navigating a wedding in the Age of Corona. Our local town hall was closed to the public, so we filled out forms online, got all of our paperwork together, made an appointment, traveled to the doors of the town hall and telephoned the town clerk, who came to the door in a mask and gloves. We passed our paperwork through a small opening. We waited outside until it was processed. And then we went home with our marriage license and a promise that the judge would call us to set up another appointment. That didn’t happen (apparently the judge was on vacation?) That didn’t deter us. We were on a roll. We scanned Thumbtack for an officiant. I found a stand-up comedian/minister who was willing to come to our backyard (not in the house) and marry us. Yay!

And sooooo… our wedding day arrived. It’s May! It’s springtime! And it is snowing. OF COURSE IT IS SNOWING. It’s blustery and super cold (which prompted me to ask Peter if hell really HAS frozen over). We were married outside, in masks, standing six feet apart from our officiant. One of my sons filmed the ten minute ceremony on his phone. My dearest friend and her husband stood many feet away as our witnesses. Not what I would have considered a dream wedding six months ago but, honestly, it was fun, and weird, and such a sign of the times. 

I realize now that I don’t need flowery proposals and big parties and much hoopla. What I need is someone who sees me in distress and says “I got you.” Someone who sometimes finds ways to put his own needs on the backburner for the wellbeing and security of his partner. The pandemic has peeled away layers of not-so-important stuff to show us each our important stuff: the people we need, the luxuries that we can do without, the frivolous vs the non-frivolous. My wedding was perfect because it was boiled down to what I really need: someone who I know will stand by me – in sickness and in health.