In retrospect, it seems hard to believe Marcy and I didn’t meet each other sooner.
Even though we grew up halfway across the country from each other (Massachusetts & Wisconsin respectively) we can look back and see how we were circling each other.
My interest in Boston’s sports, history and culture had led me to make several trips out there and to be open to the idea of relocation. We’d interacted with the same people without even realizing it. We nearly crossed paths in the fall of 2006 when I was going to attend a CatholicMatch event there and Marcy also ended up attending.
But I ended up not making the trip and with life’s twists and turns it would be nine years later, after Marcy’s broken engagement and my annulled marriage, that we finally connected.
In late 2016, Marcy was talking to a friend she knew from both church and work and lamenting the difficulties of meeting someone.
The friend immediately decided to make Marcy’s search for someone the intention of her annual St. Andrew’s Novena leading up to Christmas.
In this same timeframe, Marcy brought the same laments to her friend Carol—a CatholicMatch member and a fine catch for any practicing Catholic man. Marcy will candidly admit that this was a time of “whining and complaining.” Carol gave her two pieces of advice—“Go to the gym and get on CatholicMatch.”
Immediately after the New Year, we connected on CatholicMatch.
Marcy was attracted by my Boston sports attire and my profile references to Pat Buchanan’s books and campaigns. I was taken in by her cute face, brown hair and a smile that came with a little bit of a zany look in her eye.
That led to fun correspondence for several days. Marcy’s entire little office group began monitoring the progress of our correspondence. Unbeknownst to me, she would rise from her cubicle to announce “He wrote back!”, and kept everyone updated.
I didn’t have a cheering section, but I was enjoying the correspondence. We were on the same page on most everything. We each longed for the traditions of the Church, while often having lively debates/discussions over many issues in the world of politics. In short, we had the common values to serve as a foundation, and enough differences to keep our conversations interesting and fun.
It was time to get off electronic means of communication.
Marcy initiated the idea of a phone conversation—although in defense of my passivity, I was dealing with some dental work that made talking a challenge and the medication left me a little impaired. When we finally did connect on Skype I could feel a very natural chemistry developing.
I’m a follower of the Oblates of the Virgin Mary, a religious order of priests based in Boston. Marcy noted that the Oblates were having a mini-retreat on the final weekend in January. We decided to meet there. On the Friday night before the retreat, I walked into the Prudential Center, saw her in the Oblate chapel that’s planted amidst the hustle and bustle of the mall and she excitedly waved me over.
That weekend was special. We listened to some great talks, went out to dinner, and walked around Boston. I knew we had something on our first dinner out—I was talking so fast, and ended up spitting towards her, while she had kale stuck in her teeth by the end of the meal, and we still went forward.
Sunday was Marcy’s birthday. I took her to dinner on the North End after our retreat was over and that night we decided to give a long-distance relationship a chance. Being a lover of Hallmark movies, Marcy appreciated the irony of “A Boyfriend For My Birthday” as a spinoff of the actual Hallmark film, “A Boyfriend For Christmas.”
Soon after I was flying back to Boston.
I work as a freelancer, so I was able to stay for a couple weeks without it impacting my work. She arranged for me to stay at St. Benedict’s Abbey—it was only a twenty-minute drive from her house and it’s certainly easy to get to morning Mass when you need only roll out of bed and walk down the hallway.
The highlight of this visit was Rose. That’s Marcy’s mother, 86-years-old at the time. Marcy was taking care of her mom, having bought the house she grew up in, and I was able to spend some time visiting with Rose, talking politics, the right to life and what our thoughts were on this crazy 2016 election cycle that was starting to heat up. Two of her brothers took us out to dinner and we had a terrific time. I flew back to Wisconsin, looking forward to a return in March for Easter.
But the return came a bit sooner than expected, and under less than ideal circumstances. Rose had gone into the hospital for what was supposed to be a relatively routine procedure. But at 86, nothing is routine and she passed away on Holy Thursday from a brain hemorrhage. Although our relationship was still very new, I felt compelled to be there with Marcy and it felt very natural. Admittedly though, meeting her oldest brother at the deathbed of his mother was a little awkward.
The pace of our relationship changed, as Marcy dealt with the loss of her mom.
Even that was in God’s Providence though, as I was still dealing with some problems from my annulled marriage.
So we settled into 2016 and just tried to relax and enjoy ourselves. Each month, one of us was making a visit. The nature of my work made it possible for me to have longer stays, and I became very familiar with Delta’s early morning flight from Milwaukee to Boston.
We continued to get to know each other, to pray the rosary with each other daily and enjoyed fun dates like going to Fenway Park, catching a Bruins game and sitting in the snow for one of the Patriots’ recent Super Bowl victory parades.
And we used Skype every single night. Not just for conversation. We also just watched TV together on it, and enjoyed seeing each other’s reactions as we watched our shows. I’m typically several years behind on what’s popular, so Marcy introduced me to The Office, King of Queens and a whole lot more.
There was still one very special person on my side of the family that Marcy had not met. My grandmother was 92-years-old at the time and Marcy would meet her at Christmas. Much like when I met Rose, Marcy and Grandma connected almost instantly.
Soon after that, in early 2017, I decided it was time to take the leap and move to Massachusetts. As luck would have it, Carol rents an apartment, and was in need of a tenant. I took the place and was ready to bring my stuff out in May. Until the doctor’s report came back.
I had cancer.
By the grace of God, it was caught very early and surgery was scheduled for late July. My relocation was delayed, with Carol graciously holding the apartment for me at a drastically reduced rate. The surgery went fine, the biopsy came back clean and later that fall, the move to New England finally happened.
Even in the same area, we didn’t want to rush anything. We’d been through a lot together and it was nice to just enjoy living fifteen minutes apart and able to see each other most evenings and every weekend. I was able to get settled into the area, make some connections and eventually make new friends and expand my freelance work. Marcy lost her job due to downsizing and used the good severance package to remodel her kitchen before returning to the workforce.
But then this past spring, Grandma’s health, remarkably good all her life, finally took a turn for the worse. I went home to spend time with her. In some of her remaining moments of lucidity, she wondered why I was taking so long to get married. Marcy came out to visit and spend Easter. Grandma passed peacefully in late April.
We were moving this direction already, but the time away from my normal routine gave me the clarity to realize that now was the time to take another leap.
When I returned home to Massachusetts, Marcy and I went ring-shopping.
The element of surprise was mostly gone, with us wanting to get married by the end of the year. The proposal had to come quickly and she knew it. I did my best to manufacture some suspense, imitating scenes from The Office where Jim Halpert feigns getting to one knee before girlfriend Pam Beesly and then starts to tie his shoe instead. But we knew where this was going. On June 8, she came down the stairs, dressed up and ready to go out and I was waiting with the ring.
We’ll be married on December 8, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. It was a long wait to find each other. The three-plus years together brought more than their share of challenges. But we made it this far. And the adventure awaits.
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