Checklist for Love: Dishes, Pizza, and Showing Up

Yesterday (July 19) marks the 22nd anniversary of my marriage to Dan and yes, it's a bit lengthy but I've learned that stories take as long as they take to tell. And I would love to hear your long stories, too.

Every now and then, I share our “meeting story” for a few reasons. One, I love reminiscing and remembering. And two, I’ve walked through many different circles in my life, so chances are that every few years, I’m telling it for the first time to someone new.

Ours is a love story. And like all love stories, it’s one of holding on, letting go, and learning to let things be what they are. A story of loving and losing. Of growing and grieving. Nothing in life moves in a neat, linear fashion. Everything spirals, ebbs, flows, contracts, and expands again. Love is no different.

If we’re lucky, someone comes into our life and challenges us to grow in ways we never imagined. And as we all know, growth rarely happens when things go according to plan. It happens when we’re stretched to the edge, when we’re forced to shift, to compromise, to dig deep, to bend - and sometimes, yes, to break.

Love stories are lived in spirals, cycles, and seasons. Anyone in a long-term, committed relationship knows that the same tender places resurface, again and again, until they’re seen, softened, and slowly healed. Over time, we take turns meeting each other in those tender places, doing the work of uncovering old wounds with fierce love and a whole lot of patience.

The longer we walk together, the more we begin to enjoy the fruit of that softening. Dan and I are in what I’d call the “early fall” season of our marriage. We’re both in midlife now, with more behind us than ahead (though in this longevity-obsessed culture, who really knows?). We’re in the ripening phase - learning what to hold close, what to let go of, and what to just let be.

I want to share a story about what love really means to me.

Many years ago, a friend who was single and seeking love asked me: “If you had a checklist for your person, what would be on it?” I didn’t even have to think. My thoughts immediately went to Dan, and why, through all the years, he has always been my favorite person.

One of my most vivid memories of love and loss involves him.

I was twenty-three. The day before, I had thrown a birthday party for my son Brett, who had just turned three. It was the kind of day you'd expect: toddlers, parents, balloons, and far too much cake. The next day, a Tuesday, was a quiet one. It was the day after Memorial Day, and I spent the morning cleaning up from the party, sun pouring through the windows, music playing. You know those rare days when everything just feels right with the world?

And then, everything changed. In an instant.

That was the day I found out my brother, Rollo, had died by suicide.

After scrambling to make travel plans, I took a red-eye flight out of Vegas and arrived in North Dakota by 6 a.m. the next day.

There are a thousand stories within that one story, but I’ll stay with the plot.

Our family spent the day waiting for my sister Julie to arrive from North Carolina, wandering numbly through the mall, trying to find clothes for Rollo to wear. Never mind that it would be a closed casket and he’d be cremated. We just wanted him to look like himself: wingtip shoes, three-piece vest and all. That was Rollo.

Later that night, when I finally made it to my parents’ house, there was only one thing on my mind: I needed to call Dan. ♥️

This man I’d met six years earlier while sitting in a pediatric chemo chair. We’d gone to one another’s proms and had a short little cancer-infused highschool relationship that was destined to come to an end. But he was never far from my heart in any way that mattered.

I called the last number I had for him, and his mom answered. I don’t remember what I said, only that I told her the news. I’m not sure how many hours passed. but it wasn’t long before Dan was in my hometown, checking into a hotel.

That’s Dan. ♥️

My family’s way of grieving was to keep moving. To “keep the wolf from the door”, as my dad used to say. My parents ran a lawn care service and a stump grinding business, and my mom sold real estate. Even after losing her son, in-between an occasional sale she pushed a lawnmower around other peoples’ yards (this fact still makes my heart ache). We cleaned out Rollo’s apartment, planned the funeral, attempted to reconcile his affairs, and kept the family business running because bills still had to be paid - or so that was the excuse for burying the pain in a lot of really hard work .. an old, inherited pattern that I still have to keep in check.

And Dan was there for all of it. Picking up pizza. Washing dishes. Strapping on the leaf blower and helping out. Sitting beside me at the park or in the screen house as I tried to make sense of what had happened. Just listening to my story "on repeat". I simply couldn't believe what had happened.

That’s Dan.♥️

Over time, we stayed in touch. Eventually, we both ended our respective engagements and, as fate would have it, ended up together. Dan moved to Arizona to be with Brett and me, and the rest, as they say, is history. Our love began in a chemo unit and has been challenged through many life challenges, twists, and turns, and continues to deepen each season that we are together. Within the first year of our marriage, we were flown to New York to be on Good Morning America, then to LA to be on the Wayne Brady Show, and celebrated our honeymoon in Hawaii thanks to the generosity of the Wayne Brady Show. Our marriage began with a bang an intensity that has never really diminished.

July 2003 Good Morning America

Dan’s been with me through nearly all of my most significant losses. I’ve lost most of my immediate family - my other brother Scott, and both of my parents. Thank goodness for my sister Julie! Through it all, Dan has been the one to lift me when my legs have given out. He’s the one doing the dishes, ordering the food, never asking for credit - just quietly “doing the right thing” (Our little inside quote when life calls us to do something hard.)

Dan grounds me. When I’m reaching for the stars, he’s the one reminding me not to lose myself up there. He anchors me in his love and presence. Yes, we have been through our fair share of holding on tight to one another and letting each other go (and grow), but the thread that has never, ever dwindled or faded has been our love for each other. We both know that no matter what comes our way, we can count on each other to show up in every way imaginable and do the right thing.

So, what’s on my checklist?

☑️ Someone who is there - no questions asked, no matter what.

☑️ Someone who shows up when life falls apart.

☑️ Someone who helps you gather the shattered pieces of your soul and accepts you after you put yourself back together. Because you aren't the same "you", they learn to know and love the new versions of you over the course of a lifetime shaped by loss.

That’s Dan. ♥️

As you move through your own seasons and cycles of love and loss, my wish for you is that you have a love like this to sustain you through the difficult times and to allow you to relish in and appreciate the good times all the more.

July 2025 Apostle Islands