this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on April 29, 1999.
My mother, in a fit of passion, once told me that she wanted to get an annulment. Now, this is a serious matter, as fits of passion are my mother’s characteristic state. ”Mommy, you can’t get that,” says I in a dry tone. ”You have three children and daddy’s a good father, as far as I’m concerned.” I had to move the phone a few inches from my ear after I said that. Apart from the fact that they have been separated for over 10 years, I asked her to give me a reason she wanted an annulment. And there spewed forth a torrent of words and phrases, none of which I understood. Let me correct that, I understood everything, but none of it made sense. I am not the most sensible person in the world. I once put balls of cotton inside my nostrils just to see what would happen.
But I do possess enough sense to know the difference between right and wrong. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is wrong. So what if they’ve been separated for more than half my life? So what if I hardly ever remember them getting along for more than 10 minutes? So what if, in the two times that they’d tried to live together again under the same roof. I’d emotionally hold my breath, wondering what might go wrong? They’re married, for Pete’s sake. This is the fact. ”Oh, she’s an idealist. She doesn’t live in the real world. The emotional load of her parents’ separation has caused some major damage to her brain,” some of you reading this might say. Sorry to disillusion you, but I’m as stable as stable can be. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be opening myself to such criticism as I’ve done now. I am a realist. I have had to be–my parents are neither rich nor happily married.
However, being a realist and being cynical are not identical states. I am a realist, and that is why I believe in the importance and the indissolubility of marriage. I have heard all the crap saying that marriage is based on love, and therefore, if there is no more love, then the marriage is useless, so better to let go and love again. I say again, this is crap. People seem to think that love is based on that high, giddy feeling–you know, things that go bump in the heart whenever the person is around. Or the feeling–you know, things that go bump in the heart whenever the person is around. Or the feeling that makes you want to spend your time with someone–in fact, your whole life–and makes you feel happy and protective and important and wanted. And if this feeling is not there, then that’s the beginning of the end of love. There was a quote once in Reader’s Digest that said, ”A true friend is someone who is with you when he’d rather be anywhere else.” If this is friendship, then what more love?
Love is not a mere feeling, and people aren’t like dummies to be brought to life when ”love” takes hold of them. Heck, no. Love does not take hold of you; you take hold of love. In other words, if you begin to love someone, it’s because you wanted to. This is what I’m driving at: love is because someone wills it. That’s why it’s so nice sometimes to look at old married couples. You get the feeling that the love they have is something that has been worked at. I mean, for sure they didn’t have a peachy time every moment of their lives. So, please spare me the argument that if there’s no more love, there’s nothing you can do about it. There is. I think most of the unhappiness in the world today is from this illusory perception of what love is.
Let us kindly do ourselves the favor of distinguishing between mere attraction and real, honest-to-goodness, no-holds-barred love. It is not hypocrisy, nor being automatons. I hardly think our mothers were being hypocritical when they just had to make that effort to understand us and care for us, even when we turned out to be the most despicable and rebellious of all children. And, like all mothers will tell you, love takes effort–which is not something that robots are familiar with, things coming so easy for them. And when you love someone, through and through, it might enter your mind to give your whole self to that someone. In other words, if you love that someone, warts and all–whether it’s a good or bad hair day for him, whether he snorts when he laughs or not, whether he understands modern art or not (which, incidentally, might be something you adore), then it might be a good time to get married. Why? Because that, my dear friends, is what marriage is for.
Marriage is forever, and no amount of changing the law will change that primary fact. It comes from the agreement of two people to bind themselves to each other totally. At that moment, because of both their consent, they bind themselves to each other exclusively and for eternity. It’s not a belief of a bygone era, nor a medieval notion. This is what marriage is, and no passage of time or change in society can alter that. You create a bond with that someone you marry, and that bond is total, until ”death do you part,” and because you’ve already given yourself, that bond becomes independent of whether you still want to keep that bond or not. It’s there.
So, because at that point in time, both of you decided to give today all of your future, you can’t break it, nor take it back, since it’s not yours anymore to take back. Even if both spouses agree to break the bond, the truth is, it can’t be broken. You get married, that’s it. Kaput. Forever. It’s not a death sentence, you know, nor life imprisonment. If this kind of commitment were impossible, then fewer people would get married, society would break down, and we’d all be left living with the roaches. But it’s not impossible. It’s the most probable and logical of all things. If it’s not logical to someone, then either that someone does not have all the facts and has not thought about it much or he’s a selfish coward.
We’re humans, let’s not sell ourselves short. To use someone is not love. To say that one loves someone yet is only out for one’s own welfare and pleasure is a lie. And, to marry someone without thinking of forever is a farce. Moreover, to marry someone and think of forever, then change one’s mind somewhere in the middle is a cop-out, a slinking away into the Netherlands of one’s own pleasure and amusement. That’s what it is. Which is why I can’t understand this new divorce bill being passed. You may change your dictionary, and in doing so, change the name of something.
But you can’t change reality. For instance, you may want to start calling the red, globed, tree-growing fruit ”dog” instead of the usual ”apple,” but you can’t change the reality of that apple itself. Likewise, you can change your definition of marriage, but what marriage really is–you can’t change that. If your marriage poses a serious threat to life and limb, solutions for that are present, but marriage stays the same. All you’ll be doing, by changing your definition, is to make a fool of yourself. I know of so many failed marriages these days, my parents not being the least of them, and I’d like to say that I think it would be a whole lot better to remove that phrase ”failed marriage” because marriage itself does not fail. I think what fails are the people who have forgotten or do not really know what marriage or what love is.
Of course, if one chooses not to love, then it’s a whole different story, but it’s no one else’s fault but the person himself or herself. It’s the failure of the person. Legal annulment won’t change that. Divorce won’t change that. Remarriage won’t change that. When one has broken out, copped out of the institution of marriage, of the basic unit of the family, remarriage won’t make a new institution or a new basic unit because the original one is still there. Fine, remarriage makes families proliferate, but that does nothing to build up society, because a good society is more than the quantity of people. It’s the unity of the thing, which is why the unity of marriage is important.
My mother posed a rhetorical question during that same conversation, ”Am I supposed to sacrifice my own happiness, my whole life for my children?” I thought. ”Well, frankly, yes.” It’s not a selfish answer. It’s not even an imprudent answer. It’s the only answer, and I think that children of broken families will agree with me. I don’t suppose it’s too much to ask one’s parents to fulfill their duties and responsibilities, according to their commitment. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother very much. And I know my mother. That is why I love her all the more. I know her, scabs and perfume and all. At times she did things that made me hate her. But all the time, I knew that I loved her.
