Legacy
25 years filled with uffda's & skol's
"I want to talk to you about something, Daughter."
When he called me Daughter, something important or meaningful was to follow.
I sat down across from him. "What's going on?"
"Will you please keep Johnson? I know you probably would take Phil's name, but you are the last one, and you are my legacy."
Tears glinted in his eyes. And anytime Dad cried, I cried.
Without hesitation, I got up and wrapped my arms around him. "Of course I will."
Dad patted my back. "You're my Andrea Girl."
"I will always be your Andrea Girl."
We were kids.
Phil was 22.
I was 19 when we stood before family and friends at Peace Lutheran Church late afternoon on September 4, 1999, exchanging vows.
Obey was omitted because have you met me?
Some doubted our longevity, but here we are 25 years later.
Through every challenge and battle (we've had our fair share), we are still standing.
Together.
And not social-media-pretend-together; we are in this for the long haul, even when the odds are stacked against us. That makes us fight for our little family even harder.
There is no perfect marriage.
We learned early on that we will evolve as people, but will we do it together?
Will we grow together or apart?
Will we allow space for each other to shift and discover?
Even when we were on opposite sides of the growth, we always met one another where we were at that time.
We chose to fight for each other rather than with each other.
That doesn't mean we didn't argue.
Trust me, we did, but the best advice we received from Pastor Paul before our marriage was, "Go to bed angry. It's better than saying something you will regret."
He was right.
What would I say to 19-year-old me? You will go through heavy, dark times. You will question yourself, your marriage, and everything, but you will persevere. You will realize a strength you never imagined. You will claw, bleed, and scream through those challenging times, and you and he will always come together. You will fight together. You will love together. You will grieve together. It's not about 50/50 because that's not realistic. Some days, you will be 80, and he will be 20; other times, you will be 30, and he will be 70. And I can guarantee there will be moments when it is 0/100. However you will have more moments of greatness, triumph, and wonderment. Through all of it, there will be love.
Always love.
I love Phil.
Not only do I love him, I am in love with him.
Deeply. Intoxicatingly. Beautifully.
I love him for his gentle, lovely, witty spirit, his kindness, his respect for me and his son, his guidance and knowledge. Phil does everything for his family; he loves us profoundly. He is supportive and steadfast.
He is safe.
He is home.
He is love.
When I was thinking about my dad's statement regarding legacy, it's more than a name.
I hold two.
Surname. Married name.
Dad and Phil's.
I honor and cherish my dad and ancestors and make them proud with the Johnson name.
I honor and cherish Phil and our little family. Logan will continue with Beck and create his heritage.
Legacy is more than material markers; it's about character; it's how we treat others.
Kindness or harshness.
How did we live?
Compassion or bitterness.
Entitlement or humility.
Both names lead to one legacy, and that is Love.
And that is far greater to leave for future generations than anything else.
Phil and I did that with Logan, and he will continue that legacy because he is love.
Happy 25th anniversary, my humorous, awesome, handsome partner in crime. Thank you for taking on the world with me. I wouldn't want it any other way.
I love you.