SHARON RANDALL

Love is a splendid, unrivaled, joyous gift

Why do people get married? Most of us, I hope, would say that we married for love.

Love is no guarantee that a marriage will last. But without it, the chances for happiness -- let alone for fun -- are pretty much slim to none.

I married twice for love.

My first husband was a teacher and a coach. It was a good marriage that grew better and stronger over time. It lasted 30 years, until he died of cancer.

It gave me three children who will always be the crowning achievements of my life.

It also gave me a gift I never wanted: For four years, I was a health-care advocate, spiritual cheerleader and end-of-life caregiver for someone I could not imagine living without.

Getting married is like being a parent. It's best not to know at the start all it might require.

I was pretty sure I didn't want to get married again. I missed my husband but never really felt lonely. I had a full life, three great children, family and friends, and a job that I loved.

I traveled, published a book and read more in two years than I had since college. I learned to make my own decisions and spend my own money. And I began to figure out who I was, now that I was no longer who I had been for most of my life.

Then one day, my editor and good friend found the nerve to tell me he had carried a torch for me for a while and thought I should give him chance.

So I did. Five years later, I married him. Yes, for love.

I loved, not only him, but the way others loved him. My children. My friends. My cat. His family. Even my sister, who told me if I didn't marry him, she would.

I never thought about future grandchildren, or what kind of grandpa he might make. Neither his kids nor mine showed any signs of reproducing. But after we were married, grandchildren started coming out of the woodwork. We now have six, ages 7 months to 7 years.

They all adore Papa Mark. And why not? He's one of them. He plays video games, watches cartoons, builds Legos with them for hours. He takes them out for ice cream and knows all their favorite flavors.

Henry, who's 6, said, "Nana, are you older than Papa Mark?"

"Just a bit," I said. "Why?"

"I knew it!" he said. "Papa Mark is such a kid!"

If I show up alone at their door, they give me hugs, then ask, "Where's Papa Mark?"

They like me, too. But I'm a mama person. I feed them, kiss on them and tell them to quit doing whatever they're doing before it breaks their necks.

Papa Mark is all fun, and no one likes fun more than Wiley.

Wiley is 4. He suffers no fools.

Papa Mark and I recently spent a month in California, visiting Wiley and all our family. My husband had to go home to Las Vegas before I did. The next day, Wiley stood at the fridge, staring at a photo of himself with Papa Mark.

"Nana," he said, pressing his finger on the photo, "can you take me to see Papa Mark?"

"Sorry, buddy," I said, nuzzling the back of his neck, "he'll come see you again soon."

"Oh," Wiley sighed. "I just really, really want to see him."

The following week, I flew home and spent the evening watching my husband's eyes light up as I told him things the kids had said about him.

And if that wasn't enough to make him want to move back to California, there was this: The next day, as Wiley dressed for preschool, he asked his mom if he could take the photo of him and Papa Mark off the fridge.

Why? Because he wanted to share it for "Show and Tell."

There is no sweeter gift than the love of a child. It's a blessing not just for the one who is loved, but for the entire family: For Wiley's parents. For his brother, sister and cousins. For the grandpa he is named for and will never know. And for his Nana, who is glad she married someone her grandchildren adore.

I married, yes, for love. And for a little boy named Wiley.

Sharon Randall can be reached at P.O. Box 777394, Henderson, Nev. 89077, or on her website:

sharonrandall.com

Family on 09/20/2017

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