Note: This post was originally shared on my “widowhood” blog, “Frances 3.0: Still in Beta”.
It’s not all doom and gloom in my mind. Some days—most days—I think about the happy moments I shared with Paul and I even manage a laugh or a smile in between tears. Today I got to thinking about our trip to Venice, Italy, way back in spring 2004. It was truly one of my most memorable holidays. Ever.
It was before we were married. We were living in Edinburgh, Scotland, and decided to take a mini-break to somewhere. We’d tossed ideas around for locations, and Paul was adamant that Venice would be the most romantic. So we booked our tickets and reserved a room for four nights at the Hotel Graspo de Ua, just around the corner from the Rialto Bridge.
On the day we arrived we wandered around taking in the local squares and getting our bearings. We road along the canals in the vaporettos (water busses) and had pizza at a local café. On day two we went to St. Mark’s Square to feed the pigeons and wandered around the ancient city taking in the sites. We visited the basilica and had gelato on the steps of some lovely building.
Later that evening, after a romantic, candle-lit dinner, we talked about taking a gondola ride. Of course, upon hearing the cost, my frugality took over and we didn’t go. Instead, we wandered around the streets of Venice—up and down one windy path after another—until nearly 11:00 p.m. at which point and we made our way back to the hotel. There, I sat on the edge of the bed removing my shoes when all of the sudden Paul got up from the chair, dropped to his knees in front of me, grabbed my hands, and began to tell me how wonderful I was.
It was at that moment I knew: He was either breaking up with me, or proposing marriage. The moment Paul asked me to marry him I said yes—not a moment of hesitation was needed. I wasn’t expecting a proposal. I mean, I thought that we were heading in the marriage direction, but I didn’t know he was ready to pop the question just yet.
After that moment, I learned the following things:
- The reason that Paul chose to wear his beat up, old jacket on the holiday instead of the new one he’d just purchased: The old one had an inside pocket for him to hide the ring for the moment he found the right spot.
- The reason that Paul wanted to go on a gondola: So that he could propose whilst the boatman sang to us. Paul didn’t want to fight with me about the gondola on the day he proposed, or he’d have insisted that we got on the boat.
- The reason we wandered around all night: After my refusal for the boat ride he wanted to find an alternative romantic location in Venice—only all of the bridges were either covered with litter or unsavory-looking characters.
- The reason he proposed whilst I was on the edge of the bed: He needed to do it before midnight—when it would have been April Fools’ Day. (He didn’t want to risk me thinking it was a joke.)
(And, I learned that he called to get my parents’ blessing/permission beforehand – bonus!)
The following day, we went to Murano where I found a four-leaf clover. I know that you could argue it didn’t give me much good luck—but I feel like a lucky woman despite my circumstances. I was very lucky to have Paul in my life, if only for a short time.
A final note: Paul and I loved to tell the story about how he proposed and whilst I didn’t get the romantic proposal Paul had planned, I got one that makes for a better story without all the sappy clichés!