My Honey: My Care Partner

Frank, 50 at the time, carries a 200-pound rock to grow stronger.

By Teresa Swartz Roberts

Blog Post 59. Copyright 2024

When I first went to Big and Loud therapy for Parkinson’s, my speech therapist suggested that I make a list of 10 phrases that I say every day. I started with “I love you.” My husband and I say that phrase every day. And we mean it every single day. My speech therapist urged me to rearrange the list because I would be starting with cold vocal cords, and I would want to be warmed up when I said “I love you.” I switched to saying “Good morning” first, but I wanted to get to “I love you” as soon as possible.

I’m still saying the ten phrases as part of my self-imposed speech therapy regimen. But I must admit that I don’t practice every single day. My life has changed. My body has changed. My voice has changed. My love has not.

 That is a lie. 

It has changed. Love does change. And that can be a beautiful thing. 

My Honey and I fell in love when we were in college. People are pretty when they’re 19 or 22. Or 25. They have a kind of sameness That goes away in their thirties and makes them look more like themselves, like individuals. Our young bodies go away but they are always in our memories. We keep them inside us and we compare ourselves to them for our entire lives. It’s not really fair. I can’t compete with a 20-year-old me. I was hot.

Some people, such as My Honey, commit to improving their bodies later in life. He became a strong man and power lifter in his 40s. To be more accurate, he became physically strong after deciding on his 39th birthday that he wanted to be strong by his 40th. For My Honey’s 40th birthday, he entered a strong man competition and pulled an antique fire truck up Main Street at the Wilton, Maine Blueberry festival.

When a previously-undiagnosed birth defect was found in his hips, he had to have them replaced. No more training by carrying logs and boulders. No more thousand-pound leg presses. He made a change to Zumba. He became the Zumba King. Seven classes a week.

My Honey did all of these super-human things while being overweight. He would say fat. He was not able to get thin, so he got strong. He is resourceful and nimble in the face of challenges. Frank moved dozens of times in his young life, and he carried a wanderlust into our child-raising years. He promised our son, The Boy, that we would stay put until The Boy could graduate from high school and go off to college. My Honey was always able to make a new home work for him until it didn’t. Our first move as a married couple was for me, and it was not a good choice. He took care of me while I was in the thick of my first real job and helped me as I became a recovering high school teacher.

He encouraged me when I changed careers and became a writer and reporter. I encouraged him as he completed two master’s degrees, and he encouraged me through mine. He and I raised The Boy together, which he will tell you is the most fulfilling thing we’ve ever done. We learned what the vows meant: “for richer or poorer, for better or worse.” We had problems, challenges. We had to choose to be together. Then we got to the “in sickness and in health” part. That’s where we are now.

Our love had to change through each of the stages. We had to decide to be stronger in our marriage. It didn’t just happen.

Now we have to make that choice every day, to love each other.  We are not necessarily caregivers to each other but care partners, and that partnership requires maintenance. We say “I love you” to each other every day because our marriage needs that. We need to be there for each other. And we are.

We need to love each other. And we do.