My husband, Ronald Edward Fernandez
Part rock star, part 60's "hippy," part airplane pilot, part software
engineer, part father, part inventor, part spiritual guide, part lover,
part husband, part friend and all 6 foot of man is my Ron Fernandez.
Many have asked how we met. My best friend and cottage
neighbor, Betty Ringes, introduced us. They work together in
Ann Arbor at Unival Medical Inc. Ron is their IT Director; Betty
is the Assistant Finance Manager. Both came to my aid last
winter when my computer needed hooked up to the broadband
connection.
Several visits later by Ron and his son, Christopher, sealed the
deal. I would break my computer; he would come fix it. Each
time, I would prepare a sumptuous meal we'd all have together,
and each time he went away, I liked him better.
It was no coincidence Christopher hit it off immediately with
Marilyn and Savannah. The kids turned loose in my 900 square
foot cottage with our Chihuahuas, Poms, and a Pug in the winter
created such a din, but we seemed not to notice. Everyone was
enjoying themselves for the most part.
Then one evening in early spring during one of their visits, I
invited Ron outside to have a look at my initial attempts at
landscaping -- the addition of 20 or so solar globe lamps that
changed colors with the onset of darkness. I remember looking
up at him and saying, ". . . they remind me of YOUR eyes." This
was the first thing I loved about Ron Fernandez and the first
time I knew I could love him.
Soon after that, he sent me an email asking me what I did for fun.
Imagine that! Me having fun again after a very "long, cold, lonely
winter." He seemed to think the two of us might have fun
together; so we started dating. Our first date, we attended
Sunday church services at 1st Baptist in Stockbridge, MI. The
kids and friends and family joined us. I felt well-chaperoned.
Over the summer, he took the kids and I to the movies - mostly
Disney -- I remember the first one was "The Revenge of Kitty
Galore." Increasingly we started spending more time together
alone to see if we were a good fit. He is 61; I am 58. I kept
thinking it was lucky if somewhat unlikely we could turn it
into something long-lasting.
Almost always together with the children, we grew comfortable
and enjoyed a summer/fall courtship. One of my favorite times
together was when he would pack us all into the Ford and take
us on a drive around Ann Arbor to see the magnificent fall colors!
He loved what I loved. He cherished many of the same things
I did. He was a deeply spiritual man. We talked about our
faith often. He astutely speculated in one conversation that
one of the reasons marriages break apart is that they fail to
include the couples' faith in the bonding.
On one of those around town road trips, Ron took all of us to
"The Island" in Ann Arbor where the fall colors wrapped this
magical place in brilliant colors against the waters of the river.
The natural lushness clicked on something magical in each of
us, and we began to think of ourselves as a band of merry
souls, fairies, as Marilyn put it. I broke several lengths of
willow tree branches from the huge trees that surrounded the
pagoda picnic area on The Island, and wove them into
Fairy Crowns for each of us to wear on our walk. Brightly
colored berries served as jewels in the crowns. We kept
them on all the way home, even as we stopped by a local
cemetery to visit Sasha, Ron's old family dog friend he lost
and still mourns. Today, these "crowns" are wilted and dry
and sit out on the back sun-porch as a memory of a delightful
day spent together.
What makes two people love each other? I don't think many
on the planet have figured this out completely, but I know
in my heart it is having more days like we spent together with
the children on The Fairy Island and paying homage to a dear
friend who has passed and having fewer days in darker pursuits
that squelch the heart and soul of a man or woman.
Life is short. We could have waited and more thoroughly
tested our love for one another, but we did not. When I
was younger, I might not have risked in such a way. But
I am older now, and even the writing of these memories are
what I do to help me not forget . . . to remember him and
our first loving as age begins to chip away, bit by bit, at our
faculties and time on this earth together.
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