In Moldova, as in several other ex-USSR countries, there’s a tradition of naming wedding anniversaries after different materials. Five years is called a wooden wedding, 10 years a tin one, 25 years a silver one, and so on. My grandparents proudly tell everyone that they’ve been married for 50 years now, marking their golden wedding anniversary. They enjoy the admiration and respect they receive for this achievement. Indeed, they have lived under the same roof for over 50 years, but it’s hard to imagine two people who have been more distant from each other all their lives. When asked how they’ve stayed together, my grandmother always wonders, “What would people say if we separated?”
Neither my dad (their son) nor I can recall a single moment when they hugged or exchanged kind words when not in public. I often wonder what truly keeps them united and why they don’t live their own lives. It must be difficult for my grandparents to remain together, yet perhaps it’s even harder for them to be alone.
